How Does This Come Out of You?

“How does this come out of you?”
This question was put to me by a friend who had bought my latest book, In the Wild Places. After reading it,
she then called me and asked if she could come by and buy my other three books
to read. Of course I invited her over and when she arrived, she held the first
book up and asked me that pivotal question: “How does this come out of you?”
Half a year later, I am still wrestling with the answer.

Though I cannot say for
sure, I think what she was asking was how do all these deep questions,
thoughts, and writing come out of someone she didn’t know in that way. We
danced and performed together in countless tap shows over the years but rarely
got into such topics of conversation so I could easily dismiss this as a
singular case if she was the only one to have asked such a question but she’s
not. I’ve had this question asked of me in many different ways over the years.

As we live our lives,
we naturally grow and change and become different people as we explore new
parts of ourselves. We don’t always stop and look at the ways we are changing
much less ask if this is the healthiest way to be. At our Quaker yearly meeting
this year, I took a workshop on Teaching Adults. Part of our time together was
spent looking at our teaching style. There were four types and while two of them
described me in part, one being goal oriented and the other the dynamic leader,
two others described me extraordinarily well. One used words such as playful,
funny, enthusiastic, lively, creative, and engaging. The other was tender
hearted, a comforter, accepting of all, sensitive, caring, and a good listener.
They are both me – both parts of me that have been in my soul since before the
day I was born. I was a character as a young child and very caring and sympathetic. But over the years as I grew up,
the sensitive side overtook the playful side. I got hurt and it was painful.
Then, as I went through a deeply transformative period in my mid-twenties (two
books in at this point), that inner class clown was at last free to come out
and throw a party. I learned to be funny. I learned the gift of play. I learned
to enjoy things with the child-like innocence I believe we all need to have. I
learned to laugh again with all of my soul. People liked it and I was overjoyed
to find that beautiful part of me I had let go for so long. I let her have
center stage and my writing became something I did at home.

For quite some time I have
been happy this way. That is, until my friend asked her question and I realized
there was a whole part of me most of my friends don’t know very well as they
have only known me for the last few years and they see the funny side first.
Whereas I used to only tease and be funny after I became comfortable around
someone, now it’s the other way around. As most of my friends have only know me
for a couple of years or less, they might only know that more sensitive side of
me if they are particularly astute because it’s not one I share quickly. It can
take a long time. I fully realize this is ironic for a published author to
confess – that people who know her face-to-face don’t realize what is so
publicly shared. But they don’t. It’s safer to share it in print and it is
safer still to share such writing in a form that is time protected. You don’t
know when a poem was written that I’ve included in a book but you usually have
a much better idea what someone is thinking in person or on a blog such as
this. It is a far riskier way to share oneself and for the last few years, I
usually haven’t.

But now that funny side
is getting me into trouble. Times when I say something just to be funny is
taken seriously when they don’t realize I’m only joking. Oops. I’ve realized I
need to be far more careful in ways I let the class clown play. She needs the
balance of the tender hearted woman I so fiercely protect. They have to learn
to live together in tandem. They have to be integrated. The serious, quiet side
I treasure so highly, the person I am when I’m home alone or talking with a
close friend, needs to get out and provide some ballast to the class clown and
that class clown needs to teach that sympathetic side how to laugh at herself.

There are multiple
sides to every person and we all have private and public parts of ourselves.
For example, I’m sure I’ll always be more serious when I’m alone, but unless
those parts are integrated, we are taking away the gift of who we truly are
from those who need our genuine presence. My prayer for myself is that I can
learn well how to integrate all the parts of myself so the only reason someone
will ask, “How does this come
out of you?” will be because I
look younger than I really am and there is nothing I want to do about that.