Showing Up Whole

Dear Karen,

A few nights ago I dreamed about my book launch party and reading. It is coming up this week on Thursday. Then on Saturday I have another event in a different city, a radio interview on Monday, a reading the next Saturday, and after that I can’t really remember, but I know it rolls forward from there. To say I am nervous is an understatement. In my conscious mind I picture the room in Flyleaf Books packed full, and me standing at the podium, looking out onto the crowd and saying, “I’m scared shitless,” much the way David Crosby did at Woodstock. My alternate, and equally frightening, conscious imagining is that no one will show up at all.

In my dream the room was packed, filled with people I knew and did not know, people there to support me and cheer me on, people who had read the book and loved it, people who hadn’t read the book but planned to buy it. The room was filled with a huge collective energy and all of it was focused toward me. And I showed up, but only half of me. My torso, from my belly-button up was there, and because I had no legs to arrive on, I arrived floating upside down on the ceiling. The half of me that had shown up hung there at the podium (my mouth was conveniently microphone level) and I said, “Clearly I have screwed up.”

I woke up laughing. The dream was so absurd. And if I really could cut myself in half and hang from the ceiling, I’d probably earn more money than I ever could at writing.

I’m not sure that I buy that every dream has a deeper meaning. Maybe so. Maybe not. But this dream has certainly stuck with me. It’s message is clear. Show up whole. Don’t bring just half of you to these events. Bring all of of you. For me this means bringing along my excitement, my character and story, my joy at being a writer and getting to visit other worlds through fiction, but also bringing along my vulnerability.

A friend said the perfect thing to me recently in response to my expressed desire to go hide under the bed until no one is looking at me anymore. She said, “Let them love you, Nancy.” It makes me tear up every time I think of it. Letting people love me is the hardest thing I will ever do, and the most rewarding, besides loving them in return. Or maybe without the return.

So, yes, I am off to the world of promotion. I am going to stand before podiums and speak words I have written. I will let you know how it goes. I will show up whole. It is how I want to do everything. Show up whole for readings. Show up whole for friendship. Show up whole for writing. Show up whole for cooking and walking and filling the bird feeder. Show up whole for love.

Thank you for listening. Thank you for receiving me just as I am. Your friendship is a glittering jewel.

Much love,

Nancy