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Brave

Brave

Chicken: The International Language

October 15, 2015

 

san isidro meghan genge

Courage is found in unlikely places. ~ J.R.R. Tolkien

When I was working on my Bachelor of Education, I was lucky enough to do one of my teaching placements at an International School in Singapore. It was my first (and only) time in Asia. I remember getting off of the plane and feeling like I had landed on Mars. The heat was astonishing, and that coupled with the jet lag made everything feel even more foreign than it truly was.

I was also lucky because I got to stay with a very old friend. She and her boyfriend made sure that I had a wonderful experience. But – perhaps sadly – one of my most vivid memories is a strange one.

They decided that we needed to go to Chinatown for dinner. They both had obviously been there many times, so they left me to decide on what to eat while they both bought their favourites. Honestly? It was one of the scariest moments of my life. There were dead cooked things hanging everywhere, stalls were filled with piles of – what? I didn’t know. Different colours, different smells, different languages all tangled around me and I felt the beginnings of a panic attack. I had no idea what to do.

Then, there in the middle of the crazy, stood a very small Chinese man. He looked up at me, smiled, and said, “chicken rice?” I could have hugged him. It turns out he spoke very little other english, but boy did know enough to take care of frightened tourists.

I think about that man a lot. To me, he was an angel. Others would have passed right by him as they excitedly chose something from one of the stalls. Flying on my own to Singapore? Easy. Choosing a mystery meat to eat? Terrifying.

I thought about this again yesterday when we were in San Isidro. A man we know recommended a place for us to go for lunch. It turned out to be inside a covered market. The noise, the smells, the smallness of the space, all felt very overwhelming, but we stayed. We were definitely the only non-locals in the place. We were all staring up at the menu when a man came over – smiled – and looked at me and said, “pollo y vegetales?” Translation: chicken and vegetables? Turns out he didn’t speak very much english either, but again, he knew just what to say.

And he sure made me grin: I’ve come a long way, but it’s nice to know that the angels are still looking after me.

Bravery. Something you may think is easy, I may find terrifying. It doesn’t make my brave any less brave. Getting on a plane, taking a chance, creating the thing, getting out of bed, loving, leaving, staying, dancing, speaking, taking the leap, facing the spider – it all matters, because it’s all brave.

I have learned that if you step into your bravery, the angels appear.

Even if it is just to offer you some chicken.

xo

 

 

 

Brave, Unfurl, writing

How Big is Your Brave?

April 22, 2014

Maybe there’s a way out of the cage where you live/ Maybe one of these days you can let the light in/ Show me how big your brave is – Sara Bareilles

 

elephant in the sky meghan gengeSeven years. That is how long it has been since I finished the first draft of Unfurl. Seven years. Some people would say that my entire skeleton has regenerated in that time.

Why has it taken so long?

Because I listened to what ‘they’ told me about needing an agent and a traditional publisher. Because I lost a little more momentum with every rejection letter I received. Because I spent a month researching what other people felt was the best self-publishing platform. Because because because.

It’s been seven years because I was afraid.

The Who-Do-You-Think-You-Are gremlins set up a tea party in my head and invited their good friends: Not-Good-Enough and Not-Really-A-Writer. There was also a healthy side order of me not wanting to ‘out’ myself as a spiritual writer (Who-Do-You-Think-You-Are’ also hosted this party). This will be hilarious to anyone who has read one word of my blog during this time.

And then one day the fear of never publishing this book was bigger than the fear tea party. So I got brave and just took the leap.

If you could have seen my brave that day, it was the size of an elephant – a big one – and it had a wolf and a dragon and a black jaguar and a red fox and a couple of angels, a tribe, and a few ancestors beside it.  I was a whole team of brave.

I still don’t know exactly how it is going to go, but I do know that no matter what else happens, I have published my book. It’s out in the world. That is something I can always be proud of. That, and how brave I was to do it.

So tell me: what is your dream? What has been waiting to come through you?

How big is your brave?

xo

 

Becoming Visible, Brave, emerge, fear

Afraid of My Light

October 8, 2013

“It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us.” – Marianne Williamson

towardthelightmeghangenge

My green-eyed monster reared its ugly head today. Instead of seething in a soup of jealousy, I got very still, closed my eyes, and asked it what it wanted.  It turned out that inside of my head was a small green gremlin, jumping up and down shouting, “See me too! See me too!”

When I sat with it and cuddled it and tried to understand it, it disappeared. In its place was a very small soul. Looking out at me through tangled hair, it was huddled in a dark corner. The message coming from it was very different. The message coming from it was, “It’s not safe to be seen.”

No matter how long I sat there and tried to visualise it uncurling and coming out of hiding, it wouldn’t budge. This is a very deep, very old piece – possibly even older than I am – and like approaching a frightened animal, I know I need to take it slowly. I need to move a little closer to it every day; gain its trust before it will allow me in.

I share this today because the more I get to know myself and the more time I spend with other women, the more I understand that we are desperately afraid of ourselves. We are afraid to want. Afraid to be big. Afraid to be loud. Afraid to take up space. Afraid to be seen.

We are afraid of our light.

But we want those things just as much. We want to be seen. We want to stretch out to our edges. We want to be lit up from the inside so that we can shine that light outwards.

And the world needs that light. So badly.

So I told that little soul that I would be back. Every day. And together we would figure it out  – until we both felt safe being seen. I committed to this because I know that every time one of us heals – even just a little – we shine a little brighter, and that light can help others do the same.

What will it take to shine your light?

xo