Photo by: Lisa L Peters © 2014
As a child, my mother ran me through an endless mill of lessons and activities. Each time she expected me to commit myself fully, embracing the latest endeavor as if my every breath depended on it. She wanted me to live up to my potential as a definitive prodigy....one challenge at a time.
I never did. I'd be super excited and throw myself into each new thing for a minute. But inevitably I'd hit a wall. I was really good at most things with minimal effort. But I wasn't great. I got frustrated. I got disappointed. And I panicked at the prospect of having to settle on that one thing at the expense of all of the other shiny, sparkly things that beckoned for my attention.
Her response to this was the worst possible one. She yelled. She admonished. And she threatened to take away my toys if I didn't focus on them at her speed, in her time and way. And then, when I didn't fall in line, she followed through.
There are some people in this world who are lucky enough to find their bliss early in life; certain enough to know without a doubt. Decisive enough to declare with no hesitation, "This is exactly who and what I'm meant to be."
I am not one of those people. And I maintain that that's a good thing.
Out of sheer frustration - and after I didn't respond to threats, insults, or punishments - my mother sent me to a therapist who specialized in lost, wandering souls like me. I was 14. Yet this man, who'd been hired to knock some sense into me, warned me that my life would be a colossal failure if I didn't pick something, stick to it, and never look back. "You," he explained, "are like a pinwheel. You have too many points. So when the wind blows, and it will, instead of being able to firmly stand your ground, you'll just spin out of control."
Instead of discouraging me, his analogy was motivating. I imagined myself full of possibilities, energized by the wind, whirling, gathering knowledge and experience and inspiration and ideas. I always felt deeply that my bliss would find me. But not until I was ready. And not in a singular way. I would not decide on just one thing; I would allow life to transport me to my calling when it was evident. When it was time.
There are so many highly accomplished and celebrated people who didn't decide what they would be in the world until later in life. Until they'd amassed a treasure trove of eclectic skills and a solid awareness of who they truly were as individuals - without labels or vocations. Without those indelible tattoos hoisted upon their foreheads by bosses or families or followers. They took their time with their indecision. They surrendered to the certainty of uncertainty until their paths unfolded and they were absolutely comfortable with where they belonged. They didn't allow themselves to be defined by premature choices. And they refused to wear lives that did not fit.
The road I travel isn't an easy one. It's not predictable. It's not safe. But it's unbelievably fulfilling when you can finally stand in the middle of any room, spin with aplomb, and declare yourself without doubt, without hesitation, with complete confidence that each point on your pinwheel is intact and uncompromised and serving it's intended purpose.
"I am a storyteller. And this is exactly who and what I'm meant to be!"