She's Got That Sparkle!!



I was talking to my pops as I normally do on a fine Saturday morning, and I told him about how I became familiar with those who live life with PASSION.  And I tried honestly to find a word that completely describes these types of folks but couldn't find any word that quite captures the essence.  I will refer to them as Passionistas.

How does a person become a Passionista?  The answer is I don't know completely.  I do know however, when I was first introduced to the underground society ANNND when I first pledged.

I remember the first time I met someone whose energy was completely on fire.  That's really the only way I could describe her.  She was my 4th grade teacher, Mrs. Dorn.  She had to be in her late forties at the time which is clearly grandma territory to a kid.  BUT she didn't look a day over 27 with her flamboyant, ultra bright colored dresses and screaming red lipstick.  She wore high heels and pranced around the room like a character straight out of Disney.  I remember begging my mother to get to school extra early just so I could wait for her presence.  I was hypnotized.  Only her title disclosed she was a teacher but I always thought she wasn't from this world.  It was very obvious to me that she possessed "other abilities" like knowing the inner workings of magic potions and spells.  School just couldn't come soon enough, because deep within the walls of the classroom I was learning the framework of the hidden arts.  This was the first time in life where I think I worked around the clock for someone just because I couldn't help but do so.  I would clean, sweep, organize...anything to be in the midst of the "great one". 

It was there I wrote my first lines of poetry while listening to classical music.  I would use 10 different colors of glitter to design the cover for my very first novel.  I also learned about the heroic adventures of Perseus and the wonderful characters that dwell within Greek Mythology.  Who was she really?   I always thought I would find an answer.  But you see at this time in my life, I didn't have a voice to ask.  I mean sure I was a writer.  Words streamed together was my first language.  But I didn't know how to talk.  I would just do my work and turn it in with the rest, never raising a hand or talking out loud in class.  I didn't know my opinion really mattered that much.  And then it happened.  She called on me in class and I got the wrong answer.  I WAS MORTIFIED!

And I remember her words, "Shakira, don't make a mountain out of a molehill".  Well, that sounded great and all but I was totally embarrassed, one by hearing the sound of my own meek voice and two by not knowing what the hell a molehill was?  So she did what any great teacher would do.  She enrolled me in the school wide oratorical contest.  That's right, she picked the MUTE in her class to speak on behalf of the magnet school. And to add insult to injury, she picked a god-awful long poem for me to recite.  It was titled, "What shall I tell my children who are black"?  INTERESTING.  For at this point in time, I knew about as much about Black History as South Park's Cartman knows about etiquette...not much. 

I was supposed to deliver a poem about Black people in front of the whole SCHOOL?  But what if I forget half of it?  What if everyone begins to laugh at me?  What if the kids start asking more questions about my race?  Didn't she know that my mom checked white in order to get me in the magnet?  Everyone and their mom always asked questions about my race but I didn't know what that was. I remember telling the other kids that I was Creole because my parents told me to say that.  But ummmm yeah, in the 4th grade, who knows what that is?  I couldn't explain it.  Maybe I was a completely different species.  Why couldn't my parents have just said I was Black or White or something that all other kids understood.  Let's face it.  The whole situation was a perfect SET UP for a complete disaster. 

I attempted to cry my way out of it for a whole week.  And it was an UTTER FAIL.  This was Mrs. Dorn after all.  The fairy who had decided for better or worse to use her magical powers AGAINST me.  Not only did I feel betrayed but I was completely lost.  How could this be? It was I who served as her right hand apprentice.  Why wouldn't she show me favor?

The day before the contest I remember having my first and only PANIC ATTACK.  Then the thoughts of defeat just came rolling in one by one.  Maybe I could fake my own death or better I could run away or I could...

The morning of the contest I was actually relaxed because I had completely exhausted myself the two weeks before with non-stop crying and pleading.  I decided that the whole thing was one BIG JOKE.  The mute speaking in front of the school.  I think I was on the side of being delusional.  I thought no one would be paying attention.  I'll go up, say a few words, they'll give me a sympathy applause and I'll be on my merry way.  And so I remember taking the stage with a "La-Dee-Da" attitude.  And then it happened...I heard myself for the very first time.

In the midst of the recital, I could actually hear how I sounded and all the tones bounced around the auditorium, the low notes, the high notes and everyone was listening.  The poem itself created the perfect backdrop with its melodic words about heart break and gut wrenching exclusion.  I was just a kid.  But it started to flow because the words felt utterly TRUE.  Why was the beautiful color black demonized?  Why were things that were different criticised?  In my mind I replaced the title with What Shall I Tell the Mute who Doesn't Speak?  I knew that pain far too well...being quiet, being different, and being creative. 

Check out the poem:
http://www.sojournersplace.com/2009/07/what-shall-i-tell-my-children-who-are.html

When the poem was finished.  Crowds of parents, students and teachers all ran to the front of the stage to start asking me questions.  "What is the name of the poem again"?  "Who is the author of that poem"?  "What made you choose this poem?"  All of a sudden the mute was an authority figure on a subject that I hardly knew about a month ahead of time.  It was overwhelming to say the least.  WHO WAS I?  I won first place.  The mute won first place in a speaking contest. 

And just as you expect for a magic fairy to do...Mrs. Dorn gets through the crowd and tells me, "Don't forget this moment".  How could I?  She had conspired against me from the very beginning.  How did she do it?  Maybe she snuck a few drops of her magic potion in my juice when I wasn't looking. :)  And for that I'm eternally grateful.  Sometimes those who are seemingly against us are actually working in our favor.  Next time you are ever so fortunate to meet one of these types, as CRAZY as they may be.  Listen to the Passionistas!  Watch them!  Study them!  It is this secret society who give us the "other advice" on how to become more in this lifetime.  And if you listen long enough you may be lucky enough to hear them whisper your formula for greatness.  Whatever it is, it will equate to "Dare Great & Mighty Things!"

Shak
100.

Taking the Jump

I’m speaking to a professional group of writers this Saturday about “jumping” out and pursuing their goals. All of my other speaking engagements have been with kids so this will be interesting. Kids tend to still believe they can become whatever is possible or impossible in life. But adults are a different breed; they have learned the rules of the “real world” which declare that pursuing dreams is a most hazardous occupation. Out of the group of writers, many write consistently, and a few are published, but most haven’t “put themselves out there”. I don’t know all that it takes to be considered a “talented professional” writer. However, in my experience, the most talented people are usually never discovered because they just sit and wait for something to happen to them.



And it’s understandable to take the “sit and wait” approach because it isn’t scary, it’s comfortable. Being a writer, unlike being a teacher, psychiatrist or doctor doesn’t have a prescribed path. Who wants to go from 0 to 1 and jump towards a goal whole-heartedly when there is no safety net? Personally, I know that one day I want to fully develop my own creative company, period. But like the writers, I’m preparing for the jump. For me, the contest was somewhat of a test run. Could I plunge towards a goal with no guarantee and put myself out there? But in order to become a “jumper”, I think it’s like anything else it takes practice. It’s like a dude who gets all the women; he’s had years of becoming immune to rejection by constantly putting himself on the line. And so, he’s able to navigate the most treacherous waters of women; and he ends up being with the woman he wants to be with not the woman who he can just “get”.


What’s even scarier about pursuing dreams is people start to hold you accountable for your actions right out the gate. Not to mention, when you fall short there are folks waiting to point out that you haven’t succeeded. And it isn’t no doubt that you’re going to fall it’s just how many times. Because while you’re still learning your bound to make mistakes on an unchartered path. It’s hilarious motivational gurus will say success is falling down 7 times and getting up 8. But who wants to fall in the first place? It HURTS when you fall down and every time is harder to get up. So why would anyone in their right mind want to jump out and pursue their goals? Furthermore why would anyone set a dream goal beyond their immediate reach?


To me it’s simple it’s called LIVING. Flowers bloom, birds jump the nest, trees bear fruit…it’s natural evolution to produce more and to want to grow. So even though folks who “jump” may suffer more initially; they have the satisfaction of truly living life. Besides, nothing to me is as painful as staying still, that’s a lose/lose, there’s no chance for success.

Shak
100.