Passing Time

Ghandi said, "Be the change you want to see in the world." A popular phrase, oft quoted, and with good reason.

Today, I read this quote on FaceBook: "Be the gift you bring."

The gift you bring. Hmmm ... what are my gifts? I've been thinking about this a bit lately, as I have been reading Carol Tuttle's Dressing Your Truth: Discover Your Personal Beauty Profile. In my retirement from university, I have used color/fashion/typing as a pleasant distraction when I don't feel like 'doing.'

In this book, Carol talks about 4 distinct energy types, and how we each lead with one main type. Type 1 is the animated, bright woman. Type 2 is the soft, subtle woman. Type 3 is the rich, dynamic woman. And type 4 is the bold, striking woman. (The same categories apply to men, and these energies can be seen nearly from birth.)

She says we will know our type innately. I read the book, and I am not so sure I know my type. Or, I think I am sure, and then find some detail that seems contradictory. The cool thing I like in thinking about these types is that she is adamant we honor the gift(s) we bring according to type, to show that to the world. The symmetry and authenticity of that pleases me!

So I think on my gifts, hard to find beneath the blanket of fibro fog and a very changed lifestyle. I know I can be helpful, sweet and thoughtful. I can be dynamic for awhile. I can be bossy, and sometimes struggle with delivering direct messages if I perceive they will not be received well. I can research stuff on the computer for quite awhile ... I don't like projects, but I love being choir director and being in shows in musical theater. Are those things projects of a kind?

Sitting in my bathrobe the first hour I am up giving advice to women on fashion and color, and sometimes, to my great pleasure, even talking life - Is that a gift?

This morning, an unplanned hour, still in my bathrobe, letting darling son use my computer. I read a few more bits of the Tuttle book as he uploads pics from his latest trip - to Alaska - and we talk sporadically and he shows me pics and the time goes easily, even if I am a tad anxious to get back to my FB friends before showering. (I told you it was a pleasant distraction - oops, I mean diversion?)

Listening to my two sons as they talk easily of said trip and look together at the now uploaded pics. What a priceless gift to be witness to these conversations.

Finally showering, as same darling son has asked me to give him a ride to a couple of places. More talk, a rarity with this son. Alaska may have changed him. Our conversation is changing me ever so slightly. I feel the joy only a mother can feel when a child shares part of his heart. Our conversation is more adult and open than ever.

I think I am a type 4. The type 4 gift is simply our presence, just being there. Seems what I have been doing this morning.

But then there is a part of me that wants to fly, and laugh, and just be more myself. To just be. More. Something has been hiding or unknowingly put aside on a shelf. What is it?

Personality gets squashed, morphed, affected. A comment, a word, an event. It doesn't take much to put us on the path. Expectations of those around us. I remember when I was first married, my husband's brother commented, "S sort of just says what she thinks, doesn't she?" Well, first, I would never say anything if I thought it would intentionally hurt someone. I expect people to know I mean well. I've lived long enough now to know that is not always the case ... I am also learning not to lose any sleep over it. Still, at the time, the comment surprised me. No one had ever commented on it before.

The past few days, I have been letting myself be 'more' in my interactions. Well, more and less. More of myself, less afraid or hesitant to speak up and have fun, and sometimes even saying less, listening more. Just being. And that feels good. What does it mean in terms of my type and how I should dress? I'm not sure.

But I do know that as I re-read this post, there is latent judgment, judgment I am trying to put in it's proper place. The judging that sitting in my bathrobe for an hour is somehow 'wrong.' Judging that fashion is not a truly worthwhile endeavor, even as a hobby.

I sense my decisions shouldn't be about judgment, but should - no could - be based on conscious decisions I make about what I want my days to look and feel like. And that's a bit of what happened this morning. I chose to sit by my son as he uploaded his pics, not knowing beforehand that would lead to conversation, but grateful for it. I chose to give him a ride without much notice and let whatever the rest of the day could look like wait.

These judgments lead me back to my childhood. I loved to dance and sing - wanted to be an actress - but then high school happened and I was smart and everyone said go into engineering, you'll make lots of money. So I started on that path, and switched to the 'safe' degree of history after a year because it gave me options - and I hated engineering. I repeated that pattern as the kids got into school. I had just finished my first community theater show after a 12 year break, had even started commercial work, and what did I do? Woke up one morning and signed up for grad school. Guess some habits die hard.

Where did these messages come from? Maybe from having a dysfunctional type 4 stepfather, who grounded me if I got Bs on my report card. School and good grades were my safety net. Or maybe from having a later single working mother, who did her best, but I knew college would be very difficult to pay for if I didn't have the grades to get scholarships. Oh ye of little faith! Turns out the government ended up paying for every dime as my birth father had been killed in the military.

There were other messages, too. Don't be too happy or excited for your accomplishments, it will sound like bragging. No matter how much you might know, there is nothing like common sense. The last one was my own message to myself, I always envied people with common sense. I felt I had so little, though people seemed to put me in positions of authority.

Play down compliments on your appearance. That one came from several events, not the least of which was inappropriate comments from a teenage boy when I was just a young girl. Thank goodness it never went further than that. My extended family told me he wasn't quite right in the head. Sheesh. (That last bit was really hard to write. I don't say that for sympathy, though goodness knows what women go through growing up can be life altering. Only to use it as a an example in teaching.)

So we're not alone in this, are we ladies? And maybe knowing one's energy type is just another box for me. But I'm not going to apologize for the idea of it, especially about being aware of one's gifts to the world. I'd like to use it as a reference point for growth and added quality to my life.