True North

Sage’s pictures this week tell the story – “Be Yourself”.  And I’m so glad at the tender age of seven, she gets this.  Life is hard but it can be so much harder when you are trying to fit into someone else’s version of who they think you should be (parents, spouse, partner, boyfriend, girlfriend) – or whose definition you’ve bought into at some level so that you might even believe it too.  Everyone has ideas about what is best for us, but truly, each of us has a deep inner-knowing, a compass for true North, that is the only guide we really need to find ourselves and be ourselves.  Granted, being true to ourselves isn’t always easy, but it’s infinitely easier than trying to fit into “too-small, can’t breath, can’t feel, tired of hiding” roles that are not truly us.

“Be yourself” was in full-force last week-end when mom and I took Sage shopping for a dress for the father-daughter dance coming up in early February.  From our shopping experience for last year’s dance, I was fairly certain my mom and I would be in for a highly entertaining afternoon. To begin with, Sage’s taste and my and my mom’s taste are very, very different.  The stuff Sage gets excited about is lacy, sheer, with cheap fabric and no evidence of being well made . . . “Wal-Mart Special” is what my mom and I whisper to each other.  Sage overhears us and says, “I don’t care. I’m trying it.”  I reply, “Sage, I’m not spending $50 on that awful dress – it’s wretched!”  She just shakes her head, throws me an “I’m tryin’ it . . . .” and heads toward the dressing room.  Suddenly she stops and turns, with a matter-of-fact look on her face, eyebrows raised. “You know, sometimes you just have to try something on.  It might not look good on the hanger. But once it’s on, well, you just never know.”  And with a quick spin back toward the dressing room, she’s off.

(Last year's winner)

My mom and I look at each other and try to keep our laughter in but we are bursting.  Oh my gosh, this girl is confident. And funny. And smart – too smart.  “Where’d she come from???” I ask my mom.  We follow her to the dressing room and she informs us that she’d like to try them all on, one at a time, by herself.  That she will come out in each one and show us.  A future teacher in the making (or a doctor or a veterinarian or all three when she’s feeling really ambitious), she clearly has the “Children – pay attention – this is what we are going to do” thing down.  My mom takes a seat and I wait outside the door to help her if, and when, she needs it.

She has about ten dresses to try on – only two of which I might actually consider buying.  She puts the ugliest one on first – a 100% polyester number with pink, peach, and orange stripes and a bright orange plastic belt that doesn’t hit in a flattering spot.  She comes out and mom and I wait . . . Sage says, “I don’t think this one is dressy enough for the dance.  Cute for everyday, but definitely not dressy enough.”  “Not dressy enough to take the garbage out in” is my thought but she came to a “no” all by herself, thank goodness.  I know there will be plenty of vetoes ahead so I just respond with a neutral “Yeah, I think you’re right” and we move on.

Well, like Goldilocks, one dress was too big, one was too small, another too itchy.  About half way through, she came out in a number that was very tight over her middle.  She looked down and commented, “My tummy looks big!”  Part of the deal with these damn dresses today is that many are cut for a woman’s body and the dresses are often much too “grown-up” for seven year olds.  Without breasts, a real waist, or any hips to speak of, this dress did make her tummy look big.  But only because she is still a little girl.  With a little girl’s body.  Who shouldn’t have to worry about her tummy even looking big.  I hug her and tell her, “You are just right.  It’s the cut of the dress – not very well made and not with your adorable figure in mind.”  Another easy no.  

In this first go-round, we ended up with only one potential purchase – black and white chevron stripes up top and a royal blue attached skirt that was knee-length in front and long in back.  She tells us, “This – this one . . . is totally my style!” She beams at us and swishes around a bit.  We try to match her enthusiasm because we are happy for her, but we’re not as sold - we make eye contact above her head and shrug our shoulders.  “O.K.,” I tell her.  “It’s a possibility.  But let’s look at a couple other stores before we decide.”

The next store has even fewer options but my mom finds one with a white, sleeveless top in rayon material and a black, flowy knee-length skirt with a skinny patent leather belt.  And we all say, “It’s a maybe. Try it.  You never know how something will look on . . ." echoing Sage's earlier wisdom.  Alas, when she puts this dress on, my mom and I rave, “That’s it!”  (Any woman can appreciate this aha moment when you just know something you’ve tried on is right – like the sky opens up and God smiles down . . . )  I exclaim, “Sage, you look like a teenager!”  She raises her eyebrows at me and says with a hand on her hip, “I think I look twenty.”  Seven going on twenty it is and my mom and I are rolling once again. 

Be yourself is the only way to be.  To live life most fully.  To live out loud in the way only each of us can.  Sage wrote a song not too long ago called “In My Style”.    She is already so much her own individual and I will nurture and foster that in her every day for the rest of my life – even if she thinks I think her style is “BAD” (which I never said!!!) . . . All I want for my kids is for them to be fully who they are, to share their gifts with the world, and to fully inhabit their worlds with conviction, intention, and authenticity.  Truly, I want this for everyone.  May we all find our true North and follow that star.  And in so doing, be led exactly where we need to go.  All the while, contributing to our own and each other’s highest good.

What is your true North?  What does being yourself look like for you?  
Feel like? What do you need to be doing more of to truly be yourself? 

How can you support those you love to be more of themselves (perhaps letting go of your expectations for them and seeing them for who they really are - and not who you want or need them to be)?