I Can Still Be True: My Daughter, My Teacher, My Why
Last spring, we went on a family outing to a local mini-mountain, a place where just for a few hours we could be together in nature away from the unknowns of the new-pandemic world. My daughter Eva, then three and a half, brought with her an empty plastic vitamin bottle full of water and a house-paint-brush. She insisted on bringing these things with her in the carseat and with her out of the car and up the mountain. The practical mother in me considered convincing her to leave these things at home. The artist in me resisted the urge to simplify for my convenience and allowed her to bring them.
My goal was to find some peace and perspective in the panoramic view of the Pioneer Valley, the Western Massachusetts sprawl of farmland, small towns and universities that we call home. Eva’s goal was to find a place to paint. She chose a slate bench where she set up shop: her paintbrush, her “paint” - the water she had brought with her. She started to paint the bench in bold strokes. Her enjoyment and enthusiasm were palpable. Soon, in a flash of inspiration, she knocked over her water by accident. Her water was her paint. What would she do? We were far from any water source where I could quickly offer a refill.
She looked at me startled. My instinct was to search for the words to fix and console. Instead, I paused. Pausing is my favorite way to parent. To resist the fierce urge to fix and instead give her the space to come up with her own conclusions, her own feelings, her own experience. And to be there, right by her side, holding space for those emotions and that experience. Assuming that’s what she needed, that is.
Turns out, she didn’t need any of that. Instead she cut through the clutter of everything my adult mind brought to the experience with five words that have since been tattooed on my heart.
She looked me right in the eyes and said, “I can still be true.”
I can still be true.
I. Can. Still. Be. True.
Five words fully-loaded with individuality, persistence, possibility, authenticity, self-awareness and TRUTH.
Who is this guru disguised as a three year old? How does she have access to such wisdom? Her goal, it turns out, was not to paint everything in sight. Her goal was simply, beautifully, poetically, “To be true.” In her three years, she still remembers SO MUCH about what it is to live. In my forty four years, even though I am on a quest to remember all these things, still, I forget again and again and again.
And so, inspired by my sweet girl, who invites me to a higher way of living and being almost daily, that is my intention too.
“I can still be true.”
That is my intention, my mantra, my lens through which I will now put everything in my life. To show up as my full true self, to find ways to be true no matter what the setback, circumstance or audience. And to share that truth with my children, my family and friends, my clients, the world.