Do you worry about being too weird? The original sense of the word was more positive than today.
[blockquote align=”center” cite=”http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wyrd”]Wyrd is an Old English noun, a feminine one, from the verb weorthan, meaning “to come to pass, to become.”[/blockquote]These days I’m called to become my full-on weird self. The one that is unique. The one who will say and do things that others don’t.
That’s why I’m in a course called PlayingBig, to learn from lovely, wise, big-playing Tara Mohr. We’re learning to leap, to take risks.
My leap is sharing a deep personal story, a spoken word song about Spark. It’s about how my pure joy for singing got buried under layers of protective ‘armor,’ and then revealed again.
The juiciest singing for me is in the moment, soulful, in service to that which travels through me and my heart. I often feel called to sing at random moments. I want to be a person who does that, who sings openly to express joy, and not just in the usual performance places. But spontaneous singing is wild. Unexpected. Weird.
As I leap into more weird, I’m leaving my protected, perfect, hiding self behind. It’s only natural that I will make some social mistakes.
After some recent experimentation I woke with this Lizard brain loop in my head:
“You’re difficult, a pain in the ass, imposing your voice on others, asking for special favors, don’t know when to shut up.”
Then I received an angelic, whole-body hug, and waves of love:
“You’re learning. It’s ok. Better to take a leap and risk a social gaffe than never to leap at all.”
[framed_box bgColor=”#FEFFB4″]I’ve lived by some black-and-white rules.
Brilliance thwarted, closed off, contained, hiding.
Brilliance full-on, shining, burning bright, no holds barred.
What lies between?
What is the right time and place to share our gifts? We can’t find out unless we try.