Monday, June 29, 2009
Ain't This My Movie?
I've realized lately how responsible my blog and even FB are for wearing down my resistance to taking chances, and making it harder to hide. The more I share of who I am, the better my writing seems to become.
Whenever I post something highly personal, I find myself thinking about the people I know reading it, not people I don't know. There's a big difference between being social with people you like and admire... and sharing your deeper feelings with them. I've also learned when to keep my mouth shut. But that's another post.
Just before our trip to Tokyo this month, I had the nicest (and timeliest) dinner with a good friend, and it was a lifeline, a rope of clarity tossed into the confusion-chasm... an epiphany, a wake-up call, a yodel into the cacophony of self-doubt (ok, that was fun). And I realized that I had forgotten that I matter. I actually matter. Amidst all the careful choices, social expectations, and chaos and din of baggage and hoopla, I forgot that I matter. It's a choice. Because I can instead choose to see my own value even when surrounded by those who don't see it.
How did I fall into that bad habit?
I realized it's almost second nature for me to assume the role of "the foreigner" in social situations, even with some of our friends. I'm so used to it. I'm going along socially and everything is hunky dory and then I hit a speed-bump, and I remember... oh yeah... I don't quite fit in, not really. I become the observer instead of the participant. You may be thinking, ok, he's talking about "the gay thing" again, and you'd be wrong, because that's just as often not a factor.
I can't be specific obviously. But I can be suscinct. The older I get, the more I learn that people do not want to know what makes you different. They only want to know what makes you the same (yes there are exceptions). But generally, that mysterious quality they might be drawn to is merely the thing they long to cultivate and collect... it's known to them, not foreign. They want to know how you might embody that for them.
So it's all the way I'm seeing it. That's the problem. No one told me I could choose to enjoy my individuality more, rather than seeing it only as a dividing line. Perhaps like everyone else, I'm paying too much attention to the differences. I can enjoy being the raspberries in a salad full of vegetables. . . just another ingredient really.
After that dinner with my good friend, I went away to Japan determined to see my world differently. I made no changes other than trying to remember that I matter. And there were these nice moments where I got this very confirmation; I let myself enjoy being myself. As my friend mused... it's my play and my cast of characters... I don't need to give the lead part to every person with a title or station in life that is more established or accepted than my own.
Or as Bette sings: "Ain't this my sun? Ain't this my moon? Ain't this my song? Ain't this my movie?" Yeah. It is. It's easy to get lost in the chaos (the very chaos some seem to envy). Maybe that's why I'm a writer. It's the one place where I don't edit, censor or silence myself. I think I'll post this before I change my mind. And maybe by posting it, someone out there will read it and think to themselves ...I can do that too... for a sustainable moment, I can enjoy being 100% unadulterated me, and the more of these moments I string together, the more self-realized I'll be. The more I do it, the more permission I give the world to value me.
~Shephard
Whenever I post something highly personal, I find myself thinking about the people I know reading it, not people I don't know. There's a big difference between being social with people you like and admire... and sharing your deeper feelings with them. I've also learned when to keep my mouth shut. But that's another post.
Just before our trip to Tokyo this month, I had the nicest (and timeliest) dinner with a good friend, and it was a lifeline, a rope of clarity tossed into the confusion-chasm... an epiphany, a wake-up call, a yodel into the cacophony of self-doubt (ok, that was fun). And I realized that I had forgotten that I matter. I actually matter. Amidst all the careful choices, social expectations, and chaos and din of baggage and hoopla, I forgot that I matter. It's a choice. Because I can instead choose to see my own value even when surrounded by those who don't see it.
How did I fall into that bad habit?I realized it's almost second nature for me to assume the role of "the foreigner" in social situations, even with some of our friends. I'm so used to it. I'm going along socially and everything is hunky dory and then I hit a speed-bump, and I remember... oh yeah... I don't quite fit in, not really. I become the observer instead of the participant. You may be thinking, ok, he's talking about "the gay thing" again, and you'd be wrong, because that's just as often not a factor.
I can't be specific obviously. But I can be suscinct. The older I get, the more I learn that people do not want to know what makes you different. They only want to know what makes you the same (yes there are exceptions). But generally, that mysterious quality they might be drawn to is merely the thing they long to cultivate and collect... it's known to them, not foreign. They want to know how you might embody that for them.
So it's all the way I'm seeing it. That's the problem. No one told me I could choose to enjoy my individuality more, rather than seeing it only as a dividing line. Perhaps like everyone else, I'm paying too much attention to the differences. I can enjoy being the raspberries in a salad full of vegetables. . . just another ingredient really.
After that dinner with my good friend, I went away to Japan determined to see my world differently. I made no changes other than trying to remember that I matter. And there were these nice moments where I got this very confirmation; I let myself enjoy being myself. As my friend mused... it's my play and my cast of characters... I don't need to give the lead part to every person with a title or station in life that is more established or accepted than my own.
Or as Bette sings: "Ain't this my sun? Ain't this my moon? Ain't this my song? Ain't this my movie?" Yeah. It is. It's easy to get lost in the chaos (the very chaos some seem to envy). Maybe that's why I'm a writer. It's the one place where I don't edit, censor or silence myself. I think I'll post this before I change my mind. And maybe by posting it, someone out there will read it and think to themselves ...I can do that too... for a sustainable moment, I can enjoy being 100% unadulterated me, and the more of these moments I string together, the more self-realized I'll be. The more I do it, the more permission I give the world to value me.
~Shephard
Labels: Of Mice and Mondays
posted by Shephard @ 
