Swallowing the Moon
I’ll never forget the way she said it.
I asked her why she was getting on a plane to attend a book signing of someone she admired, but wasn’t necessarily a devotee of her work/writing.
She said, “I’d go anywhere to see a woman celebrate herself.”
I remember thinking that I’d love to be that person. The person who would go anywhere to witness someone’s joy come to life. Joy that they had made happen.
And later that year, I realized I found myself BEING that person and saying these words from the stage.
“We are all witness today to a woman’s dream coming true. That’s something I would travel across the world to see any day.”
It wasn’t across the world, but it was across the border.
And it happened again a couple of weeks ago.
I was mid-program launch, and my calendar was uncomfortably stuffed, so I had declined an invitation to one of my beloved client’s anniversary party in NYC. It just didn’t seem viable, and I put it out of my mind, though my heart kept pulling at me.
I kept hearing the refrain, “When was the last time you saw someone who looked like they had swallowed the moon?”
You see, many years ago, I came across this quote in an exquisite and well-circulated article about the collective grief around Prince's death. And why time seemed to stand still. Caroline McHugh spoke these haunting words:
“[There] are individuals who managed to figure out the unique gift that the universe gave them when they incarnated, and they put that in the service of their goals…
And when we see these people, we invariably call them larger than life. Life is large, but most of us don’t take up nearly the space the universe intended for us. We take up this wee space ‘round our toes, which is why when you see somebody in the full flow of their humanity, it’s remarkable. They’re at least a foot bigger in every direction than normal human beings, and they shine, they gleam, they glow. It’s like they swallowed the moon.”
Yes. It IS like that. It most certainly is.
At first, when I heard that refrain, I didn’t rise to the invitation. Because the truth is, it’s something I see over Zoom almost weekly, behind the closed doors of my group sessions and individual client calls. And when I see it, I name it. I do this so that everyone else on the call can acknowledge the moment and bask in the glowing splendour. Just as you would a shooting star. It’s something to behold when you get to witness it for yourself, but to get to witness it with others? Well. There’s something practically holy about that.
But it’s been some time since I’d seen it in person. Close enough to feel the glow on my cheeks.
And I’m not telling tales out of school, but THIS particular sunbeam of a client struggles some with celebration, so the fact that she even ALLOWED this anniversary shindig to happen? Whew.
So, I grabbed my man, headed off for the swiftest 22 hours in NYC ever, donned some shoes that hadn’t seen the light of day in over two years, stepped into a shine-reflecting sequins jumpsuit, and showed up to bask.
Not across the world, mind you, but across the threshold of my capacity.
Because there she was, in the fullness of her brilliance.
Shining, gleaming, glowing.
Seemingly larger than life, and surrounded by the best-in-class folks she had gathered in her now-robust five year old community. And I could talk about HOW she had gathered them…with clear vision and leadership and integrity and the strongest heart ever. The very things I had seen expand within her over the years of our closed door Zoom calls.
But I wasn’t there for the HOW. I was there for the gleam.
I was there for the declarative celebration in every passed hors d’oeuvres that signaled:
“Pause and savour this moment with me, will you?”
And she was, and it was glorious.
You know by now that the Imposter Complex and its relentless requirement for perfection and certainty tries to keep us from celebrating our accomplishments, because what has been done is “not enough.” Or it could have been done better, faster, or more…something.
And so many of us have been conditioned to believe that celebrating our own accomplishments is far too much. Far too audacious.
And who are you to be larger than life, anyways?
Listen, I won’t lie.
Taking up the space the universe has carved out for you is not for the faint of heart. It takes tenacity and resilience and a reverence for ourselves that transcends the wee space around our toes. It takes boundaries and a willingness to rewrite the stories that were originally written to limit you and others like you. It takes support and a clarity of vision and a relentless fidelity to the promises you have made…to yourself as much as to others. It takes discernment and care and a trust in your ability to wield power in generative ways, even if you haven’t seen it modeled well before. It takes audacity.
And it’s not for all of us.
But it is for some of us. (And if you suspect it might be for you, we should talk.)
So when you look like you’ve swallowed the moon? Your job IS to shine and gleam and glow, so that we can be reminded of all that is possible within us too.
As it turns out, I’ll go anywhere to see that in person.
And I just may be there with shine-reflecting sequins on.
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