Ever since my friend put me on to the video I posted last week entitled “Never Ever Give Up” (you can find it here) I can’t stop thinking about the power of belief to change a life, and about the impact teachers can have on their students. Going back to the video, I think that man’s yoga teacher could have given him an exercise as simple as “jump on one foot” and it would have made all the difference in the world. Why? Because the belief in the student’s ability to transform was there long before the set of exercises was given out. The teacher believed when the student could not, and isn’t that a remarkable thing? Isn’t that what it’s all about, not just between teacher and student, but between us all as believing mirrors for one another?
I love when students begin to practice yoga with me. I hear all kinds of fanciful stories about how out of shape they are, how they lack flexibility, and how they can’t do this, that and the other thing, especially because they’re so old. I’m going to let you in on a little secret: While I smile and nod graciously, truly understanding the importance of being heard and validated, I don’t buy any of it. In my mind, I think, “Let’s just see about that.” And I don’t mean that in a patronizing way. I just wonder how much of the belief system we each hold on to is based on fact and how much is adopted story. I work exclusively with women and, in this world, we are told constantly how it’s over for us once we move past the age of 25 (or is it younger now? It seems younger to me.) We’re done. We have nothing to offer. We’re sliding downhill into frailty and dementia. And I say: BULLSHIT! Again, let’s just see about that.
And, my word, I have seen. I have seen a 70 year old woman who, after 2 years of practice, flipped ass-over-tea-kettle and hopped up into a wall-supported handstand. I have seen a 66 year old woman commit to a regular yoga practice for 2 years, when she has struggled to commit to any kind of physical exercise her whole life. I have seen a woman who, in the beginning, could not sit still and close her eyes in meditation, become one of the most still and focused students in class. I have seen. On the first day, I have looked into your eyes and while you speak to me of what you lack, I see all the potential that exists. And the day that you begin to see it for yourself is the day that you begin to hold yourself up. What a glorious day!
This isn’t about how I’m some kind of grand yoga teacher. I’m not. I’m just some average chick running classes from her home. This is about the life-changing effects of believing in one another. It’s about having the courage to dive with one another beneath the skin and into the soul of the matter, and once you reach the soul, there’s nothing that can’t happen. In the place of the soul, “can’t” doesn’t exist.
For me, it happened with the written word. Words are magic for me and capturing what is in my head and getting it just right down on the paper is a bliss unimaginable. But my storytelling capacity wasn’t exactly nurtured by the nuns in nursery school. Nope. I had to do and redo and redo again my paragraphs so my letters fit perfectly inside the lines. Forget about the quality of the story, it was the pretty handwriting that counted. Silliness. When I was 10 years old, I met the man who would change my writing life forever.
Mr. LaPlume was fresh out of teacher’s college, with glasses and a shock of flaming orange hair. He was young, vibrant and full of life, and he did that one thing that would turn everything “writing” on its head: He told my parents that I had something when it came to words; I had a gift for writing. I had never heard that before. For years I had only heard about what was “wrong”, never about what was right or what could be. Mr. LaPlume believed in my talent and I believed in Mr. LaPlume. If he thought my writing was good, maybe, just maybe, it was. To this day, when the scary writer’s thoughts enter my mind and I worry that I will run out of things to say, Mr. LaPlume’s shiny face enters my mind and I think, “Mr. LaPlume believed in me. I can do this.” Some things never leave…thank god!
So, who believes in you? Who is the shining star who said that one perfect thing at just the right time to help you take that leap of faith? Who is the person who has stood by you time and again, and encouraged you and celebrated with you, with pom poms, whenever you overcame yourself and DID IT, whatever “it” is? Who holds the faith in you when you’re feeling too fragile to hold it for yourself? If, for some reason, no one comes to mind, I’ll tell you this:
I believe in who you are and in what you can do, and there’s a whole army of good people standing behind me who believe in you too. Just reach out into the ether and you’ll know we’re there. Then…do it, whatever “it” is. We’ll be there, pom poms in hand, smiling right along with you. Some angels aren’t meant to be seen, but they’re still there.
Have a blessed day!
Tabitha
ps. Mr. LaPlume, if you’re out there…THANK YOU. You helped to change my life.
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Emerging…Regardless
Posted in Art, Commentary, inspiration, Writing, tagged deevona, deviant art, liquid gold, poetry, the writing process, writing rejection on April 3, 2013 | 2 Comments »
It was a year ago, April 1, that I made the difficult decision to drop one day of work at the office and to, instead, devote that day to my writing. The plan was very clear: create pieces, enter them into contests and work to get them published. I can say with pride that, but for a few days here and there, Wednesdays have become my writing days. My loved ones have made the transition with me (Thank you so much!) and now support the time I spend locked away in my room. While I may have “lost” a day’s pay at the office, I gained an extra teaching day and have managed to essentially fill my weekday classes; therefore, nothing, really, was lost. After a relatively short time, I got to spend more time in my life getting paid to do what I love. Amen.
Today another one of my pieces was rejected. That makes for a 100% rejection rate. One year later, not one single piece that I consciously put out into the world has been accepted by an outside source. And still I write on. I remember sitting with my teacher in a private session as I began the process. She was questioning how I thought I would manage any rejection of my work. I recall saying, with absolute calm and certainty, that I would be okay. I knew that, just because some judge in a contest did not choose my work, did not mean my work was crap. There are all sorts of reasons for a rejection and, so long as no one was nasty to me, I would be just fine. One year later I can honestly say that all really is well.
The whole experience has been very interesting and has provided me with a number of learning experiences. I was approached by an online publication to submit poetry on a regular basis. In questioning one of their policies, I discovered I was not particularly fond of their philosophy nor their style of communication. That experience allowed me the wonderful opportunity to tell a publication that their product was not a good match for my work–I got to reject them…and it was fun. I have also learned that the whole process of submission destroys a bit of something for me. Adding an element of competition to my creative life gets me feeling like a crab in a bucket filled with other crabs dragging each other down as they try to reach the top. That’s not why I started doing this. I started because I needed to, because, without feeding my relationship with the written word, I go a bit nuts and nobody likes that much. I do it for the sheer joy of creating word-pictures, and for the challenge of taking the complex mess that’s in my head and straightening it out with words. I do it because I love it, but the competition was killing that so, I’m glad it’s gone. I feel no further need to compete. I have my glorious little blog-home and, for now, that’s perfectly good enough.
If I could say something to the writers out there it would be this: Don’t let anything get in the way of your love affair with words. Don’t let the rejections stop you. Don’t let silence stop you. Don’t let others’ opinions stop you. If you need to write, write. If you love it, commit to it as you would a loving relationship. Fight for it. Nurture it. Romance it. Just don’t let it go. If you need to write, write, no matter what. And if you need to share your voice with the world, start a blog, leave notes on public benches, slip a poem inside a book in the library, just do something. You don’t need the outside sources to make your voice be heard. The establishment writers once relied upon is gone. If you need to share, self-publish, baby. Go all the way! ;)
In honour of my one year anniversary, and of all the things I’ve learned thus far, I offer the very first poem I created back in April, 2012.
Many blessings, much love, and all the support in the world for your creative ventures,
Tabitha
Emergent “I”
Silent listening
to water to wind.
Sun
stamp –presses down
on
my
skin. I
soften outwards
– a tender pool of waves.
Wind-whisked water, warmed by sun,
nourishes the earth.
That
is my soul.
At the depths,
wind finds a crack and enters, filling me
with pulse.
Dropping to open, I
ripple out
– liquid gold.
Liquid Gold by Deevona
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