23
You Are That Girl
Apparently there is nothing that cannot happen today.
—Mark Twain
Recently, I attended an art workshop with Elaine. I like going to art workshops because they help me get my hands on my own life, help me exhale, and help me chase my intuition.
During part of the workshop we were invited to roam around the room and pick up objects to include in the art piece we were creating. Objects that spoke to us. Objects we were intuitively drawn to. Objects that told our story even if we didn’t know the story yet.
Elaine saw a large peacock feather she immediately loved. She circled it a few times, even reached for it. But she didn’t pick it up.
Four of us were sharing a long rectangular table, and when we all returned to the table with our supplies to begin working on our art piece, we were inspecting each other’s found objects. As our hands moved, our mouths began to move, and Elaine confessed there was a gorgeous peacock feather she really wanted, but she didn’t grab it.
“Why?” we all asked.
“I guess because I didn’t think I deserved it,” she said before she had time to edit her answer.
We all stopped what we were doing and looked up at her.
And before any of us said anything to her, Elaine said, “I should go get the feather, huh?”
“Yep,” we all said in unison.
And she did. It was gorgeous and bigger than many of the other objects on the table. When I saw it, I could see why it felt presumptuous to her to take it and use it. Like perhaps it was a waste. Or, as she said, it was too special and too lovely to be deserved.
What’s funny is that the feather made sense to me there on the table in front of Elaine. It was tall, like she is. Wild and beautiful, but also delicate and fragile. All like her.
I could see why she was immediately and intuitively drawn to it, and I could also see why she couldn’t take it right away. It represented the “she” she hopes to be, but couldn’t quite believe she already is.
I guess we can all think of a woman we know who is “that girl.” The one who deserves the peacock feather and, of course, knows it. Not in a gratuitous way. Just in an I-know-who-I-am-and-what-I-like sort of way. The woman who has a clear sense of her own personal aesthetic, who is self-possessed.
So many of us know who “that girl” is and we are convinced that we are not her.
What’s funny is I think of Elaine as “that girl” in so many ways. She’s a stage or two ahead of me in life, and she is successful in so many ways. She has clear thoughts and opinions and knows her own voice. She trusts her instincts and she usually follows them. Which is why it was interesting to me that when it was time to pick up the peacock feather, she didn’t . . . or couldn’t.
What this tells me is that—likely—somewhere inside even the most centered of us all is a place where we are uncertain, adolescent, not quite sure what the rules are and how they apply to us. We perceive someone else to be holding the whistle and, if we move toward something we are assuredly not supposed to have, the whistle will be blown.
Elaine gave me permission to tell the peacock feather story to participants at an art workshop I was hosting. I said that when it was their turn to go find objects and they found something that took their breath away there on the table, I told them they very well might also hear a little voice inside their head saying, “Don’t you dare pick that up. It’s too much. It’s too nice. It would be presumptuous to think you should use that. Pick something less dramatic. Pick something smaller. Pick something simpler. Pick something more practical. Who do you think you are?”
I told them to talk right back to that voice and say, “Who do I think I am? I am that girl.”
Because you are . . . you are that girl. Even if you don’t think you are. Even if your mother has spent your lifetime convincing you that you aren’t. Even if you had teachers or coaches or mentors or friends or partners or church leaders or colleagues who spent time and energy trying to convince you that you would never, in the history of ever, be worthy of the peacock feather.
And I’m so sorry. I’m sorry they knocked you down. I’m sorry they assumed it was OK to come after you and damage you in those ways. I’m sorry they did violence to your soul. I’m sorry they never really saw you.
I hope you have a giant screaming tribe in your actual, real life. People who are just nuts about you and tell you all the time that you are gold. But if by chance you don’t, I will stop right here and tell you what I know to be true: You are that girl.
At some point in life—maybe even today—you’re going to metaphorically walk by a table of objects and you’re going to see the most beautiful peacock feather and you’re going to reach for it and then that voice inside you is going to slap your hand and say to you, “How dare you? Who do you think you are!” and you’re going to recoil.
And then you’re going to regret it.
Because something inside of you, something true and intuitive that was stamped on your soul the day you were created, knows what you love and knows what you want and sees such specific beauty in that peacock feather. But the voices of scarcity and shame and judgment—the Soul Bullies—were on the prowl, and wouldn’t let you come alive in that moment.
And every time we let the Soul Bullies win, every time we believe we are not and will never be THAT GIRL, we give a bit of our self over to being silenced.
So I’m saying it one more time: You are that girl.
You can paint your kitchen a wild color.
You can wear that statement necklace.
You can go back to school.
You can apply for your dream job.
You can be a mother.
You can sing.
You can dance.
You can wear a bikini.
You can rock red lipstick.
You can become a runner.
You can let your hair go curly.
You can get a tattoo.
You can go back to work.
You can call yourself creative.
You can call yourself beautiful.
You can call yourself strong.
You are that girl.
Pick up the peacock feather, for crying out loud. In doing so, you are honoring the sacred space inside you that no one can get their hands on, no one can wreck. You are joining the song God already sings over you, and you are celebrating who you are becoming.
Do you know what it means to celebrate? The word literally means to “assemble to honor.” The same Latin word, celebrare, also means to “practice often.” Every time you allow yourself to expand and become, every time you allow yourself to return to the garden of your own soul, you are assembling to honor. Let’s do that for ourselves and for each other. Let’s assemble to honor and let’s practice often. Let’s join the chorus of creation, which is our worship.
Reflection & Expression
I do not deserve __________.
For Your Brazen Board
Read “Still I Rise” by Maya Angelou. Pick out a word or phrase or line from that poem.