Feathers

I have plenty of people who want to see me fail.  I have come to realize, especially after stepping into this role as a principal, that sometimes people will develop some pretty strong feelings and opinions towards your life, your successes, and your choices--for reasons that I bet even they would struggle to explain.  I am not foolish to the notion that plenty of folks secretly applaud my failures with greater fervor than any support they offer towards my successes.   Sadly, I have learned that the better I do for myself, the meaner people become.  It's sad, but it's true. I'm sure many of you can relate.  I am certain I am not alone in my discovery of one of the uglier sides of human-kind.

I will say this, though, in response to those who take any kind of pleasure in my failures. First and foremost, and as Michael Jordan once put it, it is because I have failed over and over, that I succeed. People who know success are no stranger to failures.  What sets them aside is that when life bucks them off in 4 seconds, they get the hell back on that bull and ride for 5 seconds the next time.  Eventually--they take it the full 7. I am not afraid or ashamed of any failure I have experienced in my life. I understand the role of failure in a successful life. First, I get that it's inevitable. I'm going to fall on my face--over and over-- and then I'm going to get back up, wipe the dirt off my chin, and do it again. You know--the best fighters don't walk into any championship fight without scars.  Hell no. They walk in with scars all over their body--and it's because of that elevated gash on their left cheek that they understand when to duck, slide, lean in, and strike.  They didn't get that from a video--they got that from getting hit--over and over again. I am not afraid of my failures--I am afraid of the day I don't get back up.  And that day is not here.

Something else these folks may want to know about me...I am motivated heavily by doubters.  There is something internally thrilling about proving people wrong. I've done it my whole life.  Of course, I'm only human, so when people sling mud at me, my first instinct is to disappear inside myself and take it to heart...but I have learned my next move is almost always to move into action.  Here's what happens....they show up with a knife in hand ready to slash my tires--then end up putting fuel in my car instead.  I hit the gas pedal...and they earn their reflection in my rear-view mirror.

Lastly, I will say this.  Whatever motivates us to tear people down--to interfere with their path in life, and develop opinions that are often and most-likely uniformed...I offer this challenge:  take 90% of the energy you pour into the pain you work so hard to inflict on others and place that energy into your own life.  You cannot build your own wings from the feathers you have plucked from others...they must grow from within you.  

I am not ashamed of the life I lead and I should not be anything but proud of the successes I have found along the way...and so, despite how some have tried to make me feel, I will not apologize for the woman I am today. So long as my values are not compromised and my ambitions never outweigh my sense of what is right and fair in this world, then I will continue to move forward in my life without giving in to those who want me so desperately to give up.  This blog will probably never change the sad reality that mean-spirited people will always hoist themselves up on the nearest roadblock, taunting and criticizing your every move--but it will also not change my steadfast commitment to the life I am determined to lead.  

Those folks can have a few of my feathers--I've got a solid set of wings. 

  

It's Been a While

I haven't blogged in a while. Admittedly, one reason I haven't is because I forgot my login name and password...and actually I couldn't remember what website I was blogging through. That last line makes me sound like I have the capacity of a chipmunk.  But to be fair, I haven't blogged since December and forgot login information because life has been a little...crazy.  I have also come to learn that my writing comes in waves.  If you are a creative soul like me, you will understand this blog (well hopefully, this is my attempt to explain creative release). For those of us who have a talent, or passion, or creative energy, you understand that it manifests and materializes in uniquely personal ways. For me, I have learned that my writing is what heals me and that it demands release at very particular times. Sometimes when life feels like it's crashing down, I can hardly muster the energy to deal with the day to day...much less feed any creative passion that's tucked away inside of me. But I am always aware that there are tiny specks of blue desperate to seep through the black and grey.  For me, it's when dark begins to subside that I suddenly cannot hold back my words. They start pouring over the threshold of my soul with the thunderous power of a waterfall.  It is, for me, when I can materialize my struggles, bring meaning to the challenges that have held me hostage that the words burst out of my heart's cage. It's not really ever in the heat of the moment, but in the quiet aftermath that my soul cries for writing. I suppose, it is for me, how I begin the process of coping with my struggles and moving forward with my life.  So, my creative counterparts, I know you get this...if you are a dancer, singer, painter, whatever it may be...the urge is not always there...but your passion is so connected to the inner you, to your soul, that it becomes an extension of you in very particular moments. Perhaps, like me,  it is your coping mechanism.  Somedays you can't sing...and somedays it's all you can do to make it through.  Some days your feet are too tired and then there are days that if you do not dance, your feel like you will burst out of your own body.  In the last six months I have not had the energy to write...but lately, it's as if I'm craving it.  Or, I suppose, my soul is craving it.

I used to curse at my writing gift. I mean, really it would have been much more useful if I had a talent that could actually score me some dough or popularity points.  I would have appreciated being more athletic...okay, the word more implies I was athletic at all, let me rephrase that...I would have appreciated being athletic. Maybe even amazingly good at math, like Rain Man.  Hell,  I would have traded this talent for a good set of pipes to beat box.

I used to think this was such a useless talent...

Now I know God granted me a connection to words because this is how I navigate my world. This is how I make sense of life's senselessness.  Words heal me. Words make souls tangible, emotions visible...they restore beauty in ugliness, establish hope in darkness, lift broken souls, inspire love, motivate, rejuvenate,  and replenish.

I don't know just how long this wave will last, but I do know tonight I feel myself standing at the mouth of that waterfall and the words are ready to spill over.  I also know somewhere out there tonight a broken girl is dancing alone to steady beat, and a songwriter is immortalizing his broken heart with every strum of his guitar. There is an artist lashing out on the blank canvas with deep red rues.  Dance. Sing. Write. Whatever it may be, embrace it and let it pull you through...I know that's what my words do for me.