magic and privileged spaces.

I like to observe people. Many refer to this activity as people watching, but for me it's deeper than that. I think what I like most about seeing people interact (or not interact) is the effect that one person can have on so many. I'm always struck by those individuals who seem to light up a room, who can make everyone around them feel special in one way or another--who know how to engage in an almost magical way. I say magic because honestly it can look like a spell is being cast on the crowd. Whatever this person is made of is unique and specific to him or her, but almost always people remember the way that person made them feel.

What I like most about connectors (that's what I call them) is that they don't have to be loud or gregarious or quintessentially cool. The thing that draws others to them is that they are completely themselves. People aren't always used to that I don't think--this ability to let social norms go and just be comfortable despite how those around you are conforming. It's particularly hard to do when an environment is toxic or not conducive to growth. To stand up and stand out when so much is trying to tear you down is no easy feat, but I've seen people do it so beautifully.

I think that sometimes we believe we don't have the ability to enact change unless we are in a position of power, but this is simply not true. One of my absolute favorite people in the world is an employee of the Greyhound bus services. Every time I head home, he is checking the tickets and luggage of the typical, weary New York  traveler. We are not a always pleasant bunch, worn and rugged from the constant bustle of the city and tending towards a healthy dose of cynicism. But this guy--he is relentlessly positive. He is not particularly noticeable at first, there's nothing necessarily striking in his features. He is quiet, very humble in his presentation and incredibly polite. But here's the thing--he notices everyone. I mean this guy takes the time out to talk to every single passenger, even if it's just for a moment, even if it's just a simple hello. He genuinely cares about the people he is encountering and the people can feel it. For me, he has become the comfort in going home, sending me off with a warm smile and caring hand. He doesn't know my name and I don't know his, but I can honestly say I have been changed by knowing him.

When you get to experience this type of person in this type of place, it is a little oasis in the difficult terrain that is everyday life. I call these people and these places privileged spaces. In counseling we refer to the relationship between the client and therapist as privileged and confidential, meaning that the client is coming into a space in which she can feel completely free to be herself--no judgment, no fear of condemnation, and no relational danger. The space is safe, and because of this, the client has room to heal.

I think that when people have the ability to make other people feel safe and warm and welcome, they are creating an every day privileged space. For just a moment they are letting others know that it's OK to come as they are, it's OK to be where they're at. They are changing the nature of the environment completely, changing the terrain.

Here's the thing--connection is a team sport, but it's made up of many players, and we've all seen how one player can change the game. In the smallest way, in the tiniest moment, the game can be won.

I want to be a game changer.

I want to be a connector.

I want my life to reflect the sacred ground of the privileged spaces.

Because life can be cruel and rocky and full of pitfalls.

And we are not alone.

We have people around us, whether we like it or not.

We hold the magic.

So, are you using it?

Are you sharing it?

Are you taking the time to reflect the good inside of you despite what terrain you are in?

I'm trying, person by person.

It doesn't take much.

Be thoughtful.

Be purposeful.

And most importantly, be yourself.

Look for the privileged spaces.

Thank those who have gone before you,

and then live it out yourself.

free to create, creating freely.

There are days I wish I didn't exist. Don't get me wrong, I place a high value on life and consider it to be an extraordinary gift. And yet, this knowledge does not take away from the fact that we are often asked to bear things that we simply cannot, so much so that we sometimes reconsider living. Call it depression or call it suppression--either way, we shove the feelings down and grimly wade our way through the muddy waters of another day.

I think for me, I've always experienced things so strongly, so acutely. I can't bear to feel the sting of loneliness or insecurity. I hate to see the vulnerability of others. It's not that I lack compassion. I just can't manage to sustain eye contact with the hurting places, the deep spaces that are dark and full of fear.

I worry if I go there, I won't be able to come back out.

Recently, I was asked what type of box I would place my fears in--what it would look like, feel like. How I would secure it and make sure those fears couldn't get out, how I would ensure my own safety. I realized my box would be clear. I would want to know at all times where exactly my fears were lurking. But the more I thought about how I would lock that box up, the more I came to the conclusion that it was not the fears I was afraid of.

It was myself.

That I couldn't trust myself.

Couldn't keep myself safe.

That I would maybe even let the fears get out and get to me.

Or that perhaps, I was the scariest thing in the room.

That my clear, safe box was actually a mirror.

And that my fears were simply a reflection of my worst self--

that I was afraid of my darkness.

my shadow.

You see, it is not the things outside of me that scare me most--it's what's inside, what's at the core. That I won't be able to stand up and stand out, that I won't be able to stay. That I will live in cowardice and crawl into the corners of my soul, wrapping myself in the trappings of insignificance so that I cannot be found to be a fraud.

So you see,

I am also afraid of my light.

I am afraid that I can't keep it going.

I am afraid that when all is said and done, the furious beating of my fragile heart will cease to exist all together.

It is a terrifying thing to live with the thought that you may not have lived at all.

So what do we do, when what we fear most is our own self destruction?

Because the only person that can stop us is ourselves--

And we are our own Achilles heels.

We know which pieces of us are tender and prone to bleeding.

We know our dark.

But we also know our light.

So what if we fought back with not who we see in the mirror, but who we have the potential to be?

What if we believed that we were strong and capable, though flawed and fragile?

What if we believed we could be afraid and still be strong?

What if we believed that it was OK to face our fears and fail?

Because the failure did not indicate a battle lost,

but a battle fought?

Before the war is won?

What if all of our little battles were leading up to something great, and the losses were just minor in the grand scheme of the overall victory?

Is it possible that we aren't really losing at all?

But that we are gaining just a little more light in the fight?

That even though the outcome was not what we hoped for that we still won something that can never be diminished? 

Here's what I'm learning: when we are free to create we create freely.

Our fear of ourselves tarnishes our gifts.

It makes us doubt ourselves and place ourselves inside of a box.

A box that beckons to us with seductive words of false security, a box that kills our dreams and leaves us safe but dead inside.

SO, who's stifling your soul these days?

Well?

Is it you?

Are you the one responsible?

Have you let fear win over creativity?

If so, it's time to GET OUTTA THAT BOX.

And go forth in battle--

for the war has yet to be won.