Dear Sofia,
It’s been a while since I’ve written.
Here’s my excuse: I’ve been writing you a long Sofia Story. A difficult one. A 220 page one where I share with you some hard things about my life that I didn’t know how to tell you.
I finished it in November, truth be told. And I’ve been hiding out ever since. Part of the hiding is that I divulge “stuff” that I’m not actually sure I want people to know. And when I say people I mean, maybe, or especially, you.
I sooooo understand the urge to push the dark parts of our lives under the proverbial rug and keep it hidden there.
Just the other night a friend was telling me about some struggles she and her husband are facing. Then she laughed and said, “But don’t tell anyone. I want people to still think we’re perfect.”
We all do.
I do.
This is the whole idea of wanting to stay in our comfort zone, which is, by definition, very comfortable.
Like this morning: I was cold and I had allergies and I didn’t want to go outside. I was comfortable with my tea, in my pajamas, inside our house. But I went outside and I walked around the lake, and I saw this sunrise (see picture.) The most insane explosion of sun I think I’ve ever seen.
The comfort zone is not where the magic happens.
All the best things in my life have happened when I have stepped outside of this comfort zone despite every voice in my head telling me that it was a very very very bad idea.
And, by the way, knowing this doesn’t make it any easier.
Like later this morning: I wanted to send out my new website that explicitly delineates all the “yoga-y” stuff that I’ve been up to. And I’m scared. What if people think I’m new agey, what if they think I’m weird, what if they don’t take me seriously in the other work I do?
I ask your father, “What if your friend’s wife sent you an e-mail like this with this kind of website?”
He thought about it, then said, “I’d think ‘Oh, she’s into the same crazy shit my wife is into’.”
For the last month, in nearly every yoga class I have taught, I have brought up some version of the Toltec teaching I learned when I was in Guatemala: “God allowed me today to make a real face.”
Three classes a week for four weeks, the same idea.
It doesn’t take a genius to see that I’ve been trying to talk myself into it--over and over again.
And I think back to a couple of months ago when you were telling me about a fight that you and your best friend had gotten into. You explained that you were playing a pretend game where your friend was the principal and you were a teacher and your friend’s siblings were the students. At some point in the game she’d gotten upset and had said that she hadn’t wanted to be the principal. “Why didn’t you tell me?” you’d asked. But she didn’t know. “So then state, out loud, who you want to be?” Apparently, you kept insisting she state it out loud, but the more you did the more upset she got, and the more upset she got the more frustrated you got.
So I suggested that maybe you needed to back off, that she didn’t know who she wanted to be.
And you said, “No, she knew what she wanted, she was just afraid to say it.”
“Well, sometimes you have to give people time,” I continued.
“She needs to learn to speak up about what she wants.” You said.
“But maybe right at that moment she was scared.” I said.
“This was not a now lesson, mommy, this was a life lesson.”
Right.
This is a lesson I clearly didn’t get when I was eight years old. If a friend or parent asked me the question, “Who do you want to be?” my answer was silence, like your friend, but my actions were obvious: “Who do you want me to be?”
It’s subtle the way we do this to ourselves, even when we think we are not doing it.
The way we try to be what other people want, which ends up being what we think other people want. Which in turn makes them be what they think, you want, which you didn’t want at all.
It’s a giant loop of distortion.
I hear the voice of my friend who told me once, “When you are truly you, I get to truly be me.”
Then I hear your voice echoing in my ear. “State out loud who you want to be?”
I am a writer and a writing teacher and I teach yoga, and I lead ceremonies and I can help heal people.
This is who I want to be even if it does invoke all the labels I’ve been running scared from.
I dreamt of the goddess Saraswati last night. (While we’re in full disclosure sharing mode, yes, I dream of goddesses.) She is the goddess of creativity and writing and poetry and music and art.
In the dream I am surprised and I say to her. “I was trying to dream about Laksmi.”
She is the goddess of fortune and money.
And in the dream Saraswati smiles and says, “God allowed you today to make a real face.”
However your life turns out, whomever you choose to be, I hope that you continue to state your truth, loud and clear. I hope that every day you take off the masks that we will all unwittingly impose on you. I hope you step out of your comfort zone and you experience the fear of being your truest self.
And then, I hope, beyond hope, that you feel the magic.
Love,
Mom
