I come from a family of reserved people. “Don’t make waves, don’t cause any conflict, stay in the background”—these were the messages I internalized growing up. On top of that, our family genetics probably reinforced this way of being. When I was in first grade, the teacher chose me to be the Christmas Angel in the school Christmas play. I was shocked to be chosen. I was certain Mrs. Anderson would pick Anne Webster for the part. Anne sat behind me in class. She was always the first to raise her hand and give all the right answers—the star pupil. (When I think of Anne Webster now, the image that comes to mind is of an adult sitting at the little desk behind me, while the rest of us in the class are children.) But I was secretly thrilled to be chosen. The only problem was, I was too afraid to sit in the place of honor by myself in front of all those people. I had to decline the offer. But Mrs. Anderson wouldn’t let me off the hook. She asked Margie Edwards, my best friend, to sit next to me for moral support. But I was the angel in the fancy costume, the main attraction, and I will never forget it. I am forever grateful to Mrs. Anderson for that opportunity to be the star of the show when I was six years old.
A friend once told me that the worst fear of my personality type—which according to the Enneagram system, is the nine—is of standing in front of a group of people and feeling they know everything about me. I know that is a fear a lot of people share—public speaking is said rank highest on the list of people’s greatest fears—but for some of us, the fear of revealing ourselves is something we try to avoid at all costs. I have heard well-known public speakers talk about their fears as they are up there commanding the stage, smiling, telling jokes, and looking quite comfortably in their element. They have no idea…
I’ve left behind much of my fear of exposure through years of living. I grew up, went to graduate school, became a psychotherapist, raised a family. Still, writing a book and putting it out there for all to see has been challenging. And this is not just any book—it’s not a ‘how-to’ step-by-step guide or a scholarly, informational book , or even a work of fiction. No. I decided to write a book containing personal stories from my life with thoughts and ideas that people could challenge. Where is Margie Edwards when I need her? Even with lots of support, ultimately, we are alone when we express ourselves and speak our truth.
As a very young child, when my mom would introduce me to one of her friends, I would look at them without speaking. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” they would ask. There was just nothing to say. I observed everything, taking it all in. There was no need to speak. Even now, I want to feel that what I have to say is worth saying. If I have nothing important to say, I’m not going to say anything. When I wrote Simply Sacred, I finally felt I had something to say that was important enough to risk being vulnerable. As hard as it was to put out there, the risk of not doing so was greater than the risk of being exposed.
So that’s my story. But what is the truth? Can we really hide anything from anybody anyway? We are all transparent. We may pretend not to see things about ourselves and others, but like the emperor in the story, “The Emperor’s New Clothes,” who paraded through the streets with nothing but imaginary clothing, we are all naked, exposed. In the story, the people all pretended not to notice the emperor’s lack of clothing. It was a child who told the truth. “The emperor has no clothes at all!” the child cried out. We are all wearing only the imaginary clothing of our stories. It takes being innocent like a child to break through the stories we tell ourselves, and to see the truth. There is no place to hide. But there is no need to hide.
I traveled to India many times to find something that was deeper than the story of my life—a truth that isn’t affected by the story. Am I still that six-year-old child who was afraid to be the Christmas Angel? Or am I the present moment, arising fresh and new? Are we tied to the past, limited by our stories? Or are we the field of all possibilities, here and now? In next week’s blog, I will share what Stuart Mooney, my spiritual mentor, had to say on this topic during a recent discussion. Stay tuned…
Consider This: Are you your story, or are you the content of your experience at this moment?
