I need to admit, I’ve been
abashed: as in confused and apologetic, instead of bold and shameless. I want
to live my life out loud but I’ve been doing it very quietly. You might not
have noticed.
When I was about 10, I looked
up ‘Tracy’ in a ‘name your baby book’ where they list the meanings and origins of
popular names. I discovered that Tracy means ‘bold and courageous’. This did
not please me. I wanted my name to mean ‘beautiful star-child’ or ‘divine light’.
There was nothing sexy or romantic about ‘bold and courageous’. But could my
mother have had a better wish for her daughter? I think not!
I’ve been a good girl who
followed all the rules, spoken and unspoken, without question. I wanted to be
beautiful, I didn’t want to make mistakes, and I wanted people to like me. I
was, and still am, a capital-P Pleaser, dammit!
But at least now I am questioning.
Paying attention. Sometimes it takes me a while, but when I notice that I am in
a box, I can take a look around and decide if I like it, or if I want to kick
the side down and get the heck out of Dodge.
Sometimes it’s dark outside
of Dodge, inky-black, and I can’t even see the first step. And there is dragon on
my shoulder who hisses in my ear, ‘be afraid, don’t move, stay safe’. And it’s
hard to make a dragon, even a little one, shut up.
So I’m in this box, staying
safe, but not protecting my inner light, but preventing it from shining. Does
this sound like ‘beautiful star-child of Divine light?’ Um, no.
Turns out, you can’t BE ‘beautiful
star-child of Divine light’ without being ‘bold and courageous’ first.
So I’ve named the dragon
Feona, and I was happy to discover that if you give her a marshmallow to toast,
she stops hissing, at least long enough to eat it.
I’m off to the grocery to
stock up on marshmallows, and then watch out for flying cardboard. And maybe
get some sunglasses, it’s about to get very bright.
Thanks, mom, for everything. And darling
daughter, your name means, “universal, whole, complete.’ My wish for yo
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