While in the company of writers, the stars aligned and shed light on my self

Once in a great while-- a very great while, I'll experience a life-transforming event. Back in the '80s Codependent No More fell off the shelf in Barnes and Noble, I picked it up and had to take two days off from work to read and process it. When I encountered Eckhart Tolle's A New Earth, I stayed in pajamas until I'd read it all the way through and taken notes.

Well this weekend, some creaky old door within my psyche flew wide open. It started when I was featured as visiting author at Alice Osborn's Wonderland Book Club to discuss Salt in the Sugar Bowl. Participants opened up about their own understanding of and experiences with issues of abandonment, the vulnerability associated with being authentic, tendencies to hide, self-protect and project.

Right after that session of honest reflection and sharing, I drove westward to Asheville to attend the North Carolina Writers Conference. Things got deeper when author Lee Smith stepped onto the podium as the keynote speaker. As far as I can tell, Lee Smith is about as authentic as they come. Her words, her accent, the rich and random stories that seem to percolate from her very being reveal, to me, a life fully lived and processed-- which she generously shares in almost raison d'être fashion. That was Friday night.

On Saturday, an itch--an irritation like an emotional pimple erupted. I had vague conversations about  "being an artist" with writers Danny Johnson, Crystal Simone Smith, Grace O'Casio, Rowena Mason, Alice Osborn, Maureen Sherbondy and Robin Muira, respectively. It was vague because I was unearthing and coming to grips with a self-defeating tendency I'd unknowingly cultivated-- that of public self-protection. I thank them all for their (unknowing) parts in clarifying something for me: Art cannot and should not occupy the same space as avoidance, pretense and toxic shame. 

I believe I have spent decades creating and presenting a self-protected aspect of myself. Parts of my story, my history, are dark and shadowy. These parts have made me gritty (and sometimes coarse). There are other aspects that are tender, optimistic and resilient. But all parts crave expression and acceptance. However, issues of trust, abandonment, fear of rejection and judgment have caused a general apprehension about the safety of being authentically who I am in light of all the places I have been.

I needed the company of artists at this point in my journey to reveal to me that artists can't hide. The general population may have the luxury of digesting societal norms and existing safely within their margins. But retreating to the safety zones might just do the artist in. In the end, our work, or at least my part of this work, is to have the courage to look under rocks and venture into the shadowy corners. Artists share and push themselves toward greater levels of honesty. We wrestle with and reveal aspects of experiences because they need to come out-- no matter how light or frivolous or dark. I don't believe the artist can concern herself with the perceptions of others, or burden herself with keeping up a persona. Such a tendency, I've learned, will consume the energy needed to turn over the boulders and hold them up long enough to capture what we've seen.

Crippling care? To coddle or butt out?

My Lord! This is the season of hacking and stiffness, death and bugs. Recently I'm realizing how my energy effects others. When I worry, I come with a whole set of automatic behaviors. I ask a lot of questions. "Are you drinking enough water?" "Did you exercise today?" "Do you think you're ready to go out?" Are you taking care of yourself? I might bring vitamins and tea. I suggest some stretches. I hover and gauge how my "patient" is progressing. It feels like caring. But sometimes its effect can be annoying.

Jeeze. Why?

I stopped to consider this phenomenon after I picked up a "tone" from a couple of people I deemed to be in need of some TLC, some intervention attention. So I journaled and meditated and journaled some more. Then it hit me. There are a host of individuals who don't enjoy associating themselves with weakness, sickness or loss. While some like to revel in the attention that comes with being under the weather, others (myself included) do better with the personal space needed to be stronger, to grab one's bootstraps and plug along. Plugging along, for many, is the best medicine. Constant reminders of being in a weakened state can keep you focused on that weakened state.

With this insight. I backed off and stopped focusing on the "condition." I stopped asking all those questions and resumed treating individuals like whole people. Instantly, the tone changed. The energy got lighter and more pleasant.

So, yes, some people do enjoy the coddling. But be mindful of who you're dealing with and act accordingly. Sometimes care can be crippling.