This post is going to feel like a sidetrack but I find myself seeing how it all comes together.

My book “Airing Out the Fairy Tale” is not just about airing out my personal fairy tale of getting married and intending to “live happily ever after”.  It’s about the things we ignore in our lives. It’s about speaking up, saying our truth which is known anyway. When I came to Rosen Method, I learned the body doesn’t lie, and I know now neither does the energy.  We know when someone is upset, angry or in love; we can’t hide.

When I was in my Rosen training, someone mentioned Marion Rosen, the founder of Rosen Method, walked up to a woman and said, “I don’t like you.”  Those surrounding were shocked, but both Marion and the woman were relieved because it was the truth and both women knew it.  Maybe it allowed a shift. I don’t know but I appreciate the honesty of it.

I’m wondering how it would be to open up to a world where we first allow ourselves to feel what we feel and then speak it with kindness and intention for better understanding and communication.  Wouldn’t something new blow through? Certainly there would be a breath of relief as the energy of holding released.

On a similar note, while reading Jia Tolentino’s review of Ocean Vuong’s new book, On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous, I found myself feeling I have nothing to say.  I don’t have the immigrant experience. I haven’t experienced violence, poverty, fear, lack, but then I came to the end of the article.

“But while Vuong’s story seems exceptional, much of his experience is not unusual. “I always insist with a little mischievousness that I’m writing something very normal, very common,” Vuong has said. “In fact, perhaps the middle class story is the exotic, is the rare, privileged gem that very few people get to experience.” The world’s refugee population is at its highest on record: sixty-eight million people, one percent of the global population, have been forcibly displaced.”

Can I even absorb that currently one percent of the global population have been forcibly displaced? I know I have a life of privilege. Where and how do I reconcile the two?

At my brother’s memorial, I said we had the perfect childhood, my brother and I, and I believe we did.  One man heard that and said to his wife, “A perfect childhood. Imagine that.” Maybe I do have something to say and share.

We each have a story to tell, a story to share, and today is a day to reach to another, and say, “I have something to say; I have something to share.”

The cover of the New Yorker this week shows a couple in bed, and on each bedside table is a tower of books.  It’s titled “Bedtime Stories”.

Let’s read books, of course, but may we also honor our own story.  We all have joys and sorrows, hurt and pain, and maybe in sharing our perception and reception of the world, we can begin to twine as one. May this be so.

Part of a mobile gifted years ago from my son

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