I remember writing “Pearls, Legs Crossed, and the Savage” it was a tricky piece because I was consumed in fear while writing it. For a couple of reasons. First, I was being subjective with my emotions and second it was bringing up a past issue that I didn’t want to talk openly about. So fear kicked on as a protective mechanism. It kept me ‘safe’ as a child.
(Some background on “Pearls, Legs Crossed and the Savage”: It was written in response to the reaction to Miley Cyrus’s performance at the 2013 VMA. I was reading some feedback on Yahoo and the words ‘slut’ and it’s derivatives were being used to describe this 22 year old. I couldn’t believe it. I thought it shameful and was embarrassed as a woman. It brought to surface varying emotions that I wanted to explore.)Writing that piece was bigger than me and I knew it. I dove into what surfaced and watched myself become consumed. I was riding a mixture of excitement and fear. The writing could create isolation from many people. Seeing that I wanted ‘likes’ added to the mix I was already experiencing. Maybe that’s one of the stems of fear – wanting to be accepted. Making art that ‘fits’ within norms – not art!
Saying the ‘right’ things to belong – nope…no intimacy…no belonging. During this entire experience I was self-aware. I knew I was breaking through something and had to keep pushing. I just didn’t know where I was going. The fog in my head was thick but not blinding. The fear at an all time high but not immobilizing. I ‘knew’ what I had to do and did the ‘right’ action, irregardless of need for approval, and over the crazy emotions. Hitting that electronic ‘publish’ button was one of the hardest and best things I’ve done. I was willing to bomb. Right after the post went live I felt a surge of power flood me, and I sat smiling. I found the moment. Armed with this self-assurance I was able to cope with the negative reactions.
Now I’m able to remove the external noise and focus on the craft discerning purely for the betterment of the piece. This is freedom. “Pearls…” will be one of my favorites because of what it helped me accomplish internally. My intuition is no longer just a faint whisper. This is huge for me having lived through a barrage of self-criticism. Feeling the guidance surge through my heart only came from the moments of showing myself I’m worthy.I’ve recently discovered there are two types of fear. There’s the fear of not wanting to embarrass myself, trying to achieve something challenging. It seems derived from an external stimulus. Something from the world is causing me discomfort and fear comes in to protect. Then there’s the fear of not wanting to fail myself. It’s purely from an internal drive. This one is by far more magnificent and I think the seat of empowerment. If I sense that I’m holding myself back through a mental framework; any idea that I’m not good enough, not worthy of success; the desire to push through it is tremendous. The need to protect my soul is deep now and I’ve become driven to trudge forward and damn anything standing in my way. The need to NOT go back is a profound driver.
Fear is an interesting emotion to observe. It’s designed to keep you from getting to the other side. Once I pushed through I had a new experience for my body to access. The feelings that would shatter me started to dissipate and capability slowly surfaced.Empowerment is an interesting beast. I’ve noticed what actions fuels power. Fear has to be conquered with ‘doing’ not by thinking. In getting used to the differences between fear and power I’m able to rapidly switch from the negativity. For my personality this has been a challenge. I’m not aggressive by nature and these actions feel that way to me. Another false idea. Standing up for myself has been sheer will and Honesty my guide. Self-awareness is necessary to cultivate. Yes it’s the wine within yourself. Sip it, savor it, get drunk from this place. Let it consume your senses. I guarantee that when developed the ego sits and fear falls. Empowerment is the seat for the soul and self-awareness allows her to speak.