Monday, March 31, 2008

I Speak, therefore, I Am.

Firstly, I would like to credit the founding practitioner/M.D. of Healthaftertrauma.com, for unintentionally prompting the subject matter of this month's post. Like all humans, and as many others have related, 'if I were consistently able to follow my own advice, I'd be somewhere else right now', which is why it means so much more and is especially gratifying when someone approaches and says that something they thought of as a result of what was said changed their life, or outlook, whether at the end of a presentation, or exceptionally, when they take the time or are able to see or find you at a later time to report the positive impact or results.

Another friend quoted, 'We teach what we need to learn', which is also true. I remain in humble admiration of the well-established ones whose names most of us have heard when they say they continue to do what they do long after fortune has made it unnecessary for them to 'work' because of what they are always learning from their students and audiences. It is these intentions I hope those that are so moved will aspire to as well.

Another admired presenter, founder of Magneticpersuasion.com, and the person who inspired this blog, of 'Mrfire.com', as well as other close and respected contacts, have reinforced: it is the 'introverts' of us who are often best suited. Why? Well, my personal story aside, more interesting for now is what these individuals have confirmed in their own unique and eloquent ways: it often comes across that we speak because we can't remain silent, having been left with the resolution after significant struggle, that our stories and what we have experienced give rise to an obligation and passion that not communicated is counter to personal growth and progess. The stirrings we can't ignore morph into our respective purposes, different for each of us, though similar in many ways. Anything less defies and diminishes not only ourselves; it also snuffs out what the communication of each of our stories would potentially cause to come to fruition for others.

It is this last thought, rather than what we think of ourselves, that oftentimes prompts us to that 'tipping point'. When we do it well, those we reach and touch also can more easily become invested in whatever what we say resonates in them, from the same origin, different for each: at some point, it becomes evident that not acting or following through is not an option in contrast to what is possible when we go forward. The fear of the unknown pales and overrides in comparison to the 'status quo', or lack of growth. The motivation is often not for self; it is rather for someone we know, or haven't met yet who, had we not taken these earlier steps, could perhaps not as easily have found what the waves of such efforts brought to them, if at all.

It's sometimes hard to swallow: if we're not growing we are dying. Children are growing by the minute, yet their spirits can be killed or permanently altered while they are still small. The truth is, in our society, most are profoundly negatively altered in some way. More of us were those children once, and that legacy continues. We can choose to lower the numbers, or go on with things as they are.

In our later years, those children will be our caregivers. As we realize how fleeting the best years of our lives are, more joy is available in looking into the eyes of a child and seeing a spirit fully engaged, validated, and ready to claim their birthright: the ability to leave the world a better place. An alternative is a soul with limited physical capacity at the mercy of a child who grew up into what there is too much of around us today, all the more devastating if that child is ours. They belong to us all, to make up for the lack of 'perfection' that surrounds them. Children are here to teach us: what we 'forgot', shaped by a flawed and tainted environment at best. To be able to communicate this is a gift, not to be ignored, in honor of and to encourage the huge souls and spirits of still-small hearts and priceless voices.