Tell It Slant

Read.

A few weeks ago I had the opportunity to read some of my work at an event called Tell It Slant in Portland. What made this event special was that I got read alongside my mother, who in her 7th decade has gracefully, and successfully, become a poetess.

The theme for the evening was 'Bloodlines', and both of us brought work concerning ourselves, and our mothers. We had a wonderful time, and were truly surprised by the positive response we received, not just about our writing, but about us, the way we were with one another, and the way we write about each other. It was validating, and a good reminder of the value of family.

Do not stop being astonished by your parents, they may surprise you yet.

I Am Not A Mother,

But.

I am not a mother but,

I am a teacher, mentor, caretaker and friend.

I am the babysitter, nanny, and perpetual auntie.

I am a helper to mothers. 

I have walked the floor with them until you get home, helped them with their homework, gone to their soccer games, and put them to bed when they were young.

When they grew up, I took them to coffee, reminded them to have dinner with you, and help them put you into context.

I am not a mother, but,

I have dedicated a life to the raising of other peoples children.

I am not a mother, but,

I am one of the first believers in your child.

I will be among the first to challenge them; a person for whom they will rise to any bar they set.

I will help them to shine on their own.

I am not a mother but,

before you speak,

consider.

There is a role in this world for the helper of mothers, the caretakers of children, 

and forces beyond our control. 

Paralyzing Fears

Doubt.

There are moments in course of our lives that feel like standing on the edge of a diving board. While the obvious is true, that the only real course of action is to move forward, fear, self loathing, and doubt can stick us in place. I see this in dancers, especially very young children, that have figured out the world's expectation of correctness and fear failing to the point of becoming unable to move.  They stand, motionless, rooted to the round beneath them, unable or willing to speak or interact in any way.  Adults, they quit.  They stop trying, they skip an activity, or they leave the class never to return.  From both groups I receive a lot of this plaintive cry, "This is hard for me."  I used to think that this was all about work ethic, that having to try, repeatedly, and the energy and commitment that required was deterrent enough.  Now I believe that is has more to do with fear than anything else.  Fear of failure, fear of looking stupid, fear of judgment, fear of not rising to the level of our own expectations or hopes, whatever the specific fear, the impacts on success can be devastating.

These days, I find myself at the edge of the diving board, toes curled over, looking into the water not even sure what it is exactly that I am afraid of, but peering into the water with apprehension. I wish for the adult in me to tell the small child that everything will be okay. I wish for the rational part of my brain to win the argument in a landslide. I stay at the edge of the board. And then this, a single line of text from my mother:

"Wherever you have dreamed of going I have camped there and left wood for you."

And I jump.

Like what you are reading?  Then support the Kickstarter for my book Girl Gone Wild- On Being a Woman in the Wilderness.  Thanks!

http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/1731666363/girl-gone-wild-a-guide-to-being-a-woman-outside?ref=city

Photograph Courtesy of:
http://www.123rf.com/photo_3906409_underwater-view-of-swimmers-on-diving-boards.html