My Mama never taught me anything about power. Not in the way Superwoman’s mother may have sat her down and said: “babygirl, this is how you use that power in your body and in your mind; how you become powerful; how you become superwoman”.
If my Mama had said those words I surely would have remembered them because they would have been etched on all the parts of me. Because for a girl who only ever dreamed of saving others, I was pretty powerless. I had tiny hands that couldn’t scoop up a lot of things all at once and tiny feet that couldn’t keep up with the big steps of others. Yet when my hands grabbed onto something or someone the grip was real, strong and tight. I held onto things and people like they were made to be held, and I, born to do the holding.
But I was never powerful. The little hope that remained pressed against my chest as a little girl that I was a secret superhero was blown away like flimsy stardust when the messages started coming in from the outside. You know, when the world begins to whisper in your ear about all the things that make you not quite enough or worthy. They were brutal and cruel. The whispers of what it meant to be powerful and the assigned cages that came with it. You had to be a particular person or do a particular job or be born into a particular family in order to be graced with an authority that determined how people treated you and how easily the worldly path would be laid out beneath you.
Unconsciously, I tucked my small hands into my pockets and stopped grabbing things. But we all go through life in order to learn and realise what it means to live. What it means to sort out the gold from the dross.
On Monday I missed a meeting.
I thought about the people that would have been sitting behind computer screens slicing through multiple time zones and geographical layers of space to be in one spot for a time, for this meeting. It struck me how powerful they appeared, these nameless and faceless people I was going to talk with for the first time. It made me think of the fallacy we share amongst ourselves – that power is something that is always in the hands of other people, never in ours, never in our hot, sweaty, clasping hands.
When I got to the office, I picked up my red pen and started crossing off days on my calender. There was something soothing about that act. The feel of the red ink sinking into the page, staining it beautiful made me warm inside. It surprisingly made me feel powerful. I have deadlines hanging over my head. There was trepidation and excitement that days are moving along and the question still remains:
What will you do with your wild and precious self ?
Chances are you don’t feel powerful either. Maybe you are caught in the nets of something poisonously draining like a toxic relationship. Or maybe you wake up every morning to go sit at a desk in an old, gray office working a job that pulls you in and withdrawn deep into yourself. And maybe you just don’t feel powerful, period. Whichever it is, I am thinking of you. And Im thinking of us, workers and lovers. People and humans.
We always have something to offer because of who we are. The way the particles that form our individual self come together is on its own an epic thing. And this is the priceless thing that nobody but each of us owns. You can patent it and take it to the bank baby. You own it. In every way that ownership is real and flesh. Tangible and there, sitting on your very skin. Because for as long as you are you, you will have something that no other human being has. This is the power we should be talking about. An authenticity that never blows its own horn to get others out of the way. Instead it reaches out invisbile arms and pulls others to itself. It draws others in by simply being. It sits in the chest, yours and mine, a bright burning knowing that it is absolutely fine to be us.
This is not a come as you are philosophy, it is a true grit becoming the best version of you there could ever be.
We like to think of power as so many things that have nothing to do with us, things that live in camps outside of ourselves. Money. Wealth. Privilege and position. But real power is how you sit within yourself. How you hold the reins of who you are and learn to connect all the parts of you in a tapestry that makes beautiful, not only your life but the lives of those around you. When you possess your soul – knowing where it has been and where it is going- and when you can hold together your core, you settle deeper and stand firmer. You create and give from that place that is not shaken by the winds of the world.
I think this is the stuff we need to be taking into our work, into our every day. The power that is much more than we think and realise.