Tuesday, 12 April 2011
Stop looking over the fence
Usually I've thought through a myriad of things, such as what the weather is doing and how it will affect a) driving conditions b) frizziness of hair c) choice of clothes - i.e. vest or no vest basically - that most mornings I'm exhausted before I've put one foot on the floor. I don't know how on earth I got through a day when I was raising a child on my own; I'm guessing age and steely determination not to (be seen to) fail had a lot to do with it.
Anyway, the Note. Basically said that I'm Great - which they generally do. Which is nice and that, but I know that about a gazillion other people are also receiving Notes at the same time, saying the same thing - so cynical old me normally scoffs and says "yeah right, thanks" and plods onwards into a new day not really giving the Note another thought.
But today was different. It was a long one. And if I'd been getting ready for work (especially if hair-frizziness was also in the equation) I wouldn't have had time to read it properly whilst holding the diffuser attachment, a mug of coffee and a toasty bagel at the same time. But it's school holidays and so I was in bed with a nice cup of tea and a good book ("The Secret History" - Donna Tartt) and it came through. In fact it felt so important that I read it three times in the end. And I've saved it in my Words of Encouragement Folder.
It's like everyone's given seeds that are capable of growing into the garden of their dreams, but no one's been told they even have them. Then, when they see their neighbor's garden growing, whether it's because their neighbor actually found their seeds or accidentally spilled them, there's a rush to see what's happening.
There are seeds that grow into private gardens. Seeds that grow into best sellers. And seeds that grow into happy families.
It's quite a riot, and often good fun, but Debs, would you believe that one of the biggest impediments one has to discovering their own seeds, these days, is their fascination with the gardens of others?
It was the final few words: "one of the biggest impediments one has to discovering their own seeds, these days, is their fascination with the gardens of others" that I kept being drawn back to and I realised how right and sensible and apt it all was. This is ALL I'VE EVER DONE.... believed not in myself but that I'm never going to be as good as the next person.... the last person, hell, even the person standing right next to me. And there's a very simple reason why I've always felt like that and it's about time I let it go beause the only person it's damaging is... well, me.
A common comment on School Reports used to be "Deborah does not have courage in her own convictions" or "Deborah lacks self-belief", and I always wondered how I'd get it. When I'd get it. I assumed I'd have it when I was a grown-up, but no. It never came. I have a great idea, I buzz with it, I HAVE to tell someone but if I don't get the encouragement my buzzy idea needs to flourish then I'm afraid it kind of withers and dies. I don't ever, EVER have the courage to think "It IS a fab idea, and I WILL make it work" I just assume that everyone else knows better. They know far more than I can ever hope to, so they must be right. I'll just shut up and hope it goes away.
OR I'll just write about it and that way it's out of my head.
That's how the writing started all those years ago. The paper listened. Actually the dog did too, but I never felt as attuned with a collie-cross as I did with a Petite typewriter or a ball-point pen.
I have to learn that although it might look as though the neighbours know precisely which seed to sow where and that their garden looks positively majestic from where I'm standing on a tuft of sad-looking weed, that it doesn't mean that what my garden has to offer isn't just as fascinating to another neighbour. Fascinating in a different way, but just as delightful.
Have A Message from the Universe sent to YOU every morning. Go on, sometimes I positively squeal with delight for a minute a morning - and that's got to be a good thing, right?