The Golden Rule

The Golden Rule tells us: "Love others as yourself."

Every belief system, every ancient teaching, every piece of wisdom we hold onto—somehow, they all point to this.

It sounds simple. It sounds like the answer to everything.

But what if we’ve misunderstood it?

What if we don’t even know how to love ourselves?

And if we don’t know how to love ourselves—how the hell are we supposed to love anyone else?

Where to begin is a big question, but If we just take a look at the world around us.

We see that a seed holds all it needs to become a tree—and it grows perfectly as designed.

A caterpillar already holds the complete butterfly—only transforming when the time is right.

Nothing in Creation lacks what it needs to fulfil its purpose.

And yet, here we are.

Chasing. Striving. Reaching outside ourselves, convinced that we are missing something.

But just as the seed and the caterpillar, we already have everything we are looking for.

That’s why we desire it.

Not because it exists outside of us.

But because it is waiting to be uncovered within us.

Yet instead of uncovering it, we demand it.

Instead of becoming, we take.

This is how we've got love wrong.

Like a wall, I had to run face-first into this.

And when I did, I realised something deeply uncomfortable:

The way we are being taught to practice love today is not love at all.

It’s a performance. A justification. And by trying to love ourselves first we've been handed a shield called self-love—one we use to protect ourselves from the deeper work of becoming something greater than we are.

We call it self-love when we cut people off for not meeting our expectations.

We call it self-love when we avoid hard truths in the name of “accepting ourselves.”

We prioritise our desires over our responsibilities to others.

And yet—love is not, and has never been, about taking.

Its very essence is about giving.

But not in a way that depletes us.

Not from self-sacrifice or martyrdom.

But in a way that acknowledges something deeper.

For a long time, I thought self-love meant proving I was enough.

Now, I know it means facing the parts of me where I believe I am not enough.

Because the truth is, we do not struggle to love ourselves.

We struggle to face ourselves.

Real love, real self-love? It isn’t indulgence. It isn’t telling ourselves we are perfect just as we are.

It is looking at the parts of ourselves we would rather avoid—and choosing to hold them with compassion anyway.

It is standing in front of the mirror—not with affirmations or forced positivity—but with the willingness to see ourselves fully.

To accept the flaws.

To take responsibility.

To let go of the stories we tell ourselves to stay comfortable.

Because only when we love the unlovable parts of ourselves do we stop expecting others to do it for us.

And that shift, is the shift from need to empathy.

Ask yourself this:

When do we find someone’s need attractive?

It’s a hard question, isn’t it?

Because need is repelling.

Not because we lack empathy.

But because something deep inside us knows that love is meant to be given, not taken.

And yet, we are a world of people saying,

"What about me?"

"That’s not good for me."

"You need to see me as I want to be seen."

We make self-love about taking.

We make love itself about taking.

And then we wonder why we feel more disconnected than ever.

But love doesn’t work that way.

If we want love, we must become love.

If we want to be understood, we must seek to understand.

If we want to be treated with kindness, we must cultivate kindness within ourselves.

Because we do not treat others how we want to be treated.

We treat others how we treat ourselves.

Self-love was never supposed to be about feeding our own needs.

It was always supposed to be about overcoming them.

And from that place—from the place of self-awareness, self-responsibility, and true inner transformation—love stops being something we chase.

It becomes something we give.

It becomes something we are.

Because in the end, the Golden Rule is not a lesson.

It is something we become. Bradley J Cleary