After reading an email from Nerissa Neilds, a singer-songwriter/coach in our Joy Diet class, I looked at her whimsical website, listened to her music, and even went searching for her song lyrics. I was entranced by her artistry and her authenticity. She’s also the mom of a 7 week old and a 2 year old.
In one song a father sings about his daughter, who is growing up. This line got me:
I don’t want to hear your story
I can’t bear to know your world
I thought of my children, trying to make it as artists in New York City. And an old story erupted in my head—if only I had been more creative and whimsical and lighthearted when my kids were younger, they’d be happier now. The new twist to the story is that I should have been more like Nerissa. But, the story goes, I was a tense, crabby trial lawyer. I wish I could have a do-over, knowing what I know now. I should have shown them how to be happy. I should have been a better mother.
This is an old, very painful story—probably the most painful one I carry. It fuels deep sadness in me. Everything in my Joy Diet had to wait while I got back to the Truth.
How can I change this to another story that might work better? I can show my children a more joyful, lighthearted version of me now. I can’t do this when I perseverate on my “I should have been a better mother” story. I can help other mothers and children now, but only when I leave my past (and my painful untrue interpretations of it) behind me, and live what I know now.
Here’s the truth: my children are happy and they both recall having a very happy childhood. They might not have tried to live in New York City, or live artistic lives, if they hadn’t been exposed to my inextinguishable determination, which was part of my lawyer identity. Maybe they’d be miserable accountants if I’d been more creative. Without their exact past, including me as I was, they wouldn’t be who they are now. Their childhood was the perfect foundation for them.
After writing this and crying some, I re-read Nerissa’s lyrics. I realized that I’d focused on and interpreted lyrics in a way that created pain for me, and missed these words, the beautiful ending of the song:
She turns and says “I can see you
And I always knew there’d be a road back to here.”
Beautiful, my little Glory
You’ll always be my baby girl
Won’t you let me hear your story
Beautiful, my little glory
You’ll always be my baby girl
I am following your story
I am leaving you the world.
Who would I be without my story? Thanks, Nerissa, for helping me back to the Truth in such a beautiful way.
P.S. In the above video, Nerissa is playing guitar and the other woman is her singing partner and sister, Katryna. They are singing “Give Me A Clean Heart,” written by Nerissa. A perfect kick-off to a week of Creativity.
0 responses so far ↓
1 Cam // Oct 21, 2008 at 5:03 pm
Hi Terry, I just had to share this story. I had been having trouble staying quiet for 15 minutes because I thought it would be really hard but today I made a conscientious decision to make to the end of 15 minutes just noticing thoughts. Then I noticed that I enjoyed some of my thoughts and I wondered if feeling enjoyment was ok or if I should pull myself out of feeling the enjoyment of those thoughts (fantasizing?) in order to come back to stillness.
As I was walking a young gentleman walking on the street smiled at me, told me he thought I was beautiful and wished me a good day. It was really sweet that this would occur as I was in the middle of my stillness. I declined his offer to give me a ride (maybe he thought I was in the middle of some other kind of street walking) but nevertheless, I derived a smile from it.
Back to my question, is it ok to feel pleasure from the thoughts during stillness? Or what about feeling bad?
2 hatt // Oct 22, 2008 at 7:33 am
Nerissa, that was so joyous and grace filled. I am starting my morning blessed!
When I was a little girl my mom, Mary, had regrets about the mother she was to me. I always told her that I choose her for my mom and as I had the whole family, because of the lessons I’d learn. I admit I said it partially to drive her crazy, but mostly cause it was true.
Yesterday, I realized that I could live from fear and diminishment or from courage and full on presence. Then I laughed, realizing I was doing that either/or dance again. My mantra for today is both/and. Thanks for the grace.
3 Nerissa // Oct 23, 2008 at 11:10 am
Thank you, Terry for posting this! I am really touched and moved.
I was struggling this morning with a painful story about myself: that I am bossy and overbearing. I found in my Truth Taking that I can change the story: I have a big personality, and can use it (and have used it) to help people and to make aspects of my life easier. It’s not bad or good; it’s just who I am. The next piece to tackle is being OK with people not liking me, or fearing that people won’t like me.
4 Terry DeMeo // Oct 23, 2008 at 11:48 am
Cam asks a fabulous question: she had some enjoyable thoughts during her time of stillness, and wondered what to do with them, and if its okay to feel pleasure or to feel “bad” during stillness. Here’s what I think–feeling our feelings is always okay. Avoiding our feelings creates tons of problems in our lives. So feel them, acknowledge them, and let them go during this “doing nothing” time. And then just put that nice, fun, enjoyable thought on hold too–the nice thing about putting a pleasurable thought on hold is that you can always go back to it later, and you’ll want to go back to it later!
I’d love to know what everyone else thinks about this.
Nerissa, I can so relate to your post. I’m 5’10″ tall, my voice is naturally loud, especially when I get animated, I have strong opinions and I’ve have been accused of being bossy and overbearing my whole life. And, I’ve spent so much time and energy trying to contain it and hide it and deny it and change it, just to be liked.
The Truth, of course, is that if we show the world the watered down, constrained version of us, the I’m-afraid-I-won’t-be-liked version, we become small and inauthentic. And it’s not the real us that’s being liked, anyway. No one sees the real us. Ultimately, to be okay with not being liked, we have to like ourselves–the big, bossy, overbearing, noisy, real us. And the irony? We’re so much more likable when we are authentic.
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