Don’t be afraid to stand alone.
Don’t be afraid to belong to yourself.
Tell the truth. Tell the truth. Tell the truth.
*
I was given an assignment from a program I was part of 35 years ago because we are celebrating 40 years of thriving. We were each asked what moment during our time in the program stands out as having changed us the most.
At first, I thought about how I was changed by a few of the other students. And what I saw through them. The alchemy of their growth.
But then I said, “Dig deeper, Jill. What transformed you, truly? What shook you?”
I kept giving up on the question. It was too long ago. I kept telling myself I couldn’t remember. Then I recalled a tender moment of movement in my body when I was asked to do something that really scared me and I wasn’t afraid of it.
Still, this left me cold. I knew this wasn’t it.
*
Don’t be afraid to stand alone.
Don’t be afraid to belong to yourself.
Tell the truth. Tell the truth. Tell the truth.
*
These are the words I told my nieces today as I sat with them. I told them that this is life lesson that they will have to work with again and again but to do their very best to stick with it. To not be concerned with what others are thinking, saying, doing…
*
Slowly, the answer came.
I was only 14 years old and I was so afraid to have the conversation I was about to have. But I knew I had to have it.
Ron expected greatness from all of us. And that was both inspiring and terrifying. It forged a sacred world inside of you that was a holy place always filled with the unexpected, with expectation, and promise delivered.
He pulled out our own vision, a collective vision and he embraced the fullness of explosive creativity, setting boundaries where they were deeply necessary and offering doorways when we needed room to grow.
I never allowed myself to get too close to him for fear that I would lose him, always grappling personally with historical loss and doing what I could to “manage it” or keep it at bay. This was a particularly volatile year in my personal world, and I had a deep knowing: I needed to talk to him.
*
Don’t be afraid to stand alone.
Don’t be afraid to belong to yourself.
Tell the truth. Tell the truth. Tell the truth.
*
The image embedded in my memory is a little foggy, but its felt deeply in my body. I stood 4’9” tall and he seemed to tower over me. I don’t remember if we were standing or sitting, but I remember the towering.
I told Ron that I needed to leave the program.
This was a huge risk to take because it was an audition-only program and if I wanted to come back, I would have to audition again, (if he would permit it).
I knew I had to leave. Inside me, no one knew, but I would break, if I didn’t leave.
And that is what I did.
*
Two years later, I re-auditioned for entry in preparation for my senior year.
I was called back. I did the call back. And I was accepted back into the program.
*
I often wondered if Ron was hurt when I left, but what I held far more important was that what he saw in front of him was a young girl taking a huge risk to follow what she knew was right. What was unselfish. What was true and courageous. And the truth is, he saw her.
*
That was the moment of real alchemy. No part of me wanted to let this man down. But somehow, every part of me knew that it was far more important to listen to the voice inside of me that was calling out to be heard through pain no matter the cost.
This moment of knowing I belong to myself has risen up at highly inconvenient times and has taught me the value of my own integrity, my principles, and how I have come to know my own worthiness.
*
Lately, I have been visited by a Blue Heron where I live which is along a river with a waterfall. He and I must be becoming “friends” because the other day he stayed close and let me watch him have his breakfast. It was astonishing.
I looked for him on my next walk and found him way down in the heart of the falls. This is where I have found him every few days. It’s a powerful image and an even more potent metaphor. There he is, standing with legs as skinny as twigs amidst a waterfall that is raging through and past in his midst. And there he stands.
Here is what he is teaching me:
To remain steadfast no matter how hard the river rages. To remain committed amidst any perceived struggle. That I am truly unshakable in my soul. To recommit myself each time I want to give up on anything. To know the river will do what the river will do and that I have a right to stand, to be here, wholly and completely because no matter what, I will always belong to myself.
35 years ago, I had a mentor who towered over me and gave me the opportunity to stand tall like the heron and claim my right to belong.
To myself. To the world.
To the truth.
May it always be so.
6.18.20
Jill Bacharach
