I woke up on Monday morning and realized it was October 10th. That date may be meaningless to you, but to me it brought up two seemingly unrelated points that I knew I had to take time away from working on my book to share with you.
October 10, 2010. 10/10/10. This Monday, October 10, 2016, was six years to the day from a day that will live in infamy.
That was the day I stepped out of the shower and — wham! — slipped and dislocated my knee. That scored me an ambulance ride to the ER.
Four days later, my cat died. Yeah, it was pretty much the worst week ever.
(Turns out he chewed through an extension cord. That cat loved chewing things, so at least he went quick, doing something he loved.)
But going through this crappy week, and its crappy aftermath (surgery, months of painful recuperation) led me to the greatest love of my life.
Bad Luck, Good Luck
Do you know the Chinese proverb about the farmer and his son? They had a beloved stallion who helped them till the fields, and one day the horse ran away. Their neighbors said, “Oh, what bad luck!”
The farmer replied, “Good luck, bad luck: who knows?”
A few days later the horse came back, leading a beautiful white mare. When the neighbors found out, they cried, “Not only has your horse returned, but now you have a second horse! What good luck!”
The farmer replied, “Good luck, bad luck: who knows?”
Later that same week the farmer’s son was riding the white mare, and she threw him to the ground and he broke his leg very badly.
The neighbors said, “Your son is crippled! What bad luck!”
The farmer replied, “Good luck, bad luck: who knows?”
Shortly after this, soldiers from the national army marched through the village, drafting all able-bodied young men and boys. But they did not take the farmer’s son, because he had a broken leg.
The neighbors said, “Your son was spared! What good luck!”
You can guess what the farmer said.
A Bad Luck Week, Good Luck Week?
My week from hell was a lot like that. My injury, the loss of my cat, having to have major surgery and spend months in recuperation were all very bad luck.
But they were also what made me finally realize that the man I’d been seeing (and whom I’d kicked to the curb twice, I might add) was not only a keeper, he was my keeper. Because MM (my husband) leaned in closer, and made it clear that I could count on him, that he would be there for me when times got rough.
I had been so focused on finding the kind of guy I’m most drawn to — out there, taking action, a mover and shaker making change in the world — that I hadn’t been paying attention to what was really good for me.
I’d been looking for the male version of who I wanted to be, not who would make the best teammate for a team that included me.
Honestly, two me’s would not make a good team! We’d be constantly butting heads and competing with each other — competing to be better, competing for the spotlight and attention. Competing for our thing — whatever it might be — to be the focus.
In fact, I’d been in that relationship many times before! My first marriage, and more than one of my long-term relationships that followed, were with men who competed with me. No wonder it didn’t work out!
But this guy, the man I originally referred to, privately, as Shy Guy (because he was), and later as Medicine Man when he came back into my life as a healing balm after another relationship ended — this guy not only didn’t compete with me, it seemed to make him inordinately happy to help me shine.
Even before he took on the role of emergency room supporter on the day of the knee dislocation, and rehab nurse after the surgery, I realized that this man made my life go better in every way.
He wasn’t just a Medicine Man, he was a Miracle Man!
If you’ve ever wondered why I sometimes refer to him as MM, this is why.
What had I been thinking of when I broke it off with him (twice!) and tried (thankfully unsuccessfully) to find a girlfriend to set him up with??
Deal Breakers
To be fair, it wasn’t that I was a complete idiot. He didn’t show much of himself to me. He was so shy and quiet around me that trying to carry on a conversation over dinner was like trying to drag a wet queen-sized mattress up a hill by myself! It took a long time for him to open up so I could see who he was.
What little I saw at first felt like a deal-breaker, honestly. For example, my husband has a really goofy, 10-year-old boy sense of humor. I’m attracted to dry, quick-wittedness, but he’s more into puns and fart jokes.
There was no way I could imagine myself being with that for the rest of my life.
But you know what? His goofy humor grew on me! It started to infect me and loosen me up. His goofiness helped me to allow myself to be goofy — something I’d basically kept off-limits since adolescence.
Girls are supposed to be beautiful, not clownish. And ugh, I bought right into that sexist message. My goal was always to play the princess or the queen, not the jester.
But thanks to MM, I’ve rediscovered my goofy, clownish side. Allowing yourself to be goofy is a helluva lot more fun than always trying to be the beautiful, perfect princess. There’s so much more room in the clown role than in the role of the ingenue, or even the femme fatale.
My husband, in other words, has helped me allow myself to be imperfect.
And yes, it also took me a long time to appreciate that what I needed was not the male version of who I wanted to be, but the best teammate for a team that included me.
Shadow Artist
I am reminded of years ago, when a woman I was close friends with at the time met her boyfriend. He played guitar and wrote songs, and one time I was at a small party at her apartment and he pulled out his guitar and serenaded us.
WOW! I wanted a boyfriend who would write original songs and serenade me like that! How romantic!
Not long after that I did end up dating a guy who was a skilled guitar player (though not a singer/songwriter). He got me to start playing guitar myself. And some years later I dated another musician who, in fact, wrote songs for me to sing.
These two relationships played a big part in my becoming a musician myself. And ultimately, long after both of these men were out of the picture, I realized that maybe what I’d been longing for all along was not a musician boyfriend so much as to reclaim my musician self.
I’d decided at age 15 that I sucked at music, that other people were the musicians, not me, so instead of pursuing music myself I became to what Julia Cameron refers to in The Artist’s Way (aff) as a “shadow artist,” longing for a partner to fill the music-shaped hole in my life.
Cameron writes:
Shadow artists are gravitating to their rightful tribe but cannot yet claim their birthright. Very often audacity, not talent, makes one person an artist and another a shadow artist–hiding in the shadows, afraid to step out and expose the dream to the light, fearful that it will disintegrate to the touch.
But I don’t need a boyfriend or husband to fill the music-shaped hole — I get to do it myself! Because (and this is important) I don’t have to be a brilliant musician, or a professional musician, or a signed-with-a-label musician to be a musician.
THAT is what allowed me to step fully into the identity of Musician. No, I don’t make my living from my music (not even close!) I don’t write songs very often, and sometimes I go for weeks without making music at all.
But I still get to own that I am a musician, because I love making music. It is something I do, and who I am.
And of course it’s the same for you. If you want to make music, or write a book, or make enough paintings to fill an exhibit space, or anything else, you get to do it.
You get to claim that birthright, even if you suck at it!
For the HOW around that, along with the WHY, be sure to grab a copy of my book, The Creative Sandbox Way, when it comes out on November 15th!
Surround Yourself with Champions
To sum up this rambly essay (which reminds me that my first year in college I wrote an essay in the style of Montaigne, and I literally composed the last few paragraphs on my electric typewriter [this was before personal computers!] before running to hand it in just barely on time, and I got an A! Which, I’m sure, is only because Montaigne was pretty rambly), I have to say, that it helps a lot to have people in your life who can champion you. MM does this for me. Not once has he complained about my being hyper-focused on getting my book done.
Instead, he pitches in to make sure both our lives run as smoothly as possible. I do the same when the roles are reversed.
Keep your eyes open for potential champions in your life, and when you find them, keep them close and treat them well.
And pay attention to how the bad luck episodes in your life aren’t always all bad.
And pay attention, also, to where you might be playing the “shadow artist” role.
Now I am going back to scanning artwork and laying out my book!
