Yang Girly Girl

High Flight

 

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds - and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of - wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air.
Up, up the long delirious, burning blue,
I’ve topped the windswept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or even eagle flew -
And, while with silent lifting mind I’ve trod
The high un-trespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand and touched the face of God.

——John Patrick Magee

 

 

That’s my favorite poem. Intellects would chastise me for calling it poetry because it’s not T.S. Eliot, E.E. Cummings, Sylvia Plath, Neruda, Frost, Chekhov, et al, it’s still my favorite. Those others enamor me, they’re quotable, they’re controversial, and they invite criticism and discussion. “High Flight” doesn’t do any of these things.   

 

I love the words because they make me FEEL good. To me, poetry is an extension of an emotion, a view into someone’s binocular.  Upon focus, it validates your reality, perhaps even becomes it.

It doesn’t matter that I vicariously live through every pilot on the face of this earth.  I wish I could see what they see; feel what they feel; fly like they fly.   I wish I could slip the surly bonds sometimes.

 

When things get crazy in getting real, I remember this poem. 

 

John Magee wrote it three months before he collided with another plane in mid-air and vaporized his tumbling mirth.  How appropriate that he died dancing on laughter silvered wings.    It’s a good thing he touched the face of God a time or two, just for networking in the afterlife.  He fell upward.

 

By now, you’re thinking I’m a bit whacked.  I am, but, is that relevant?

 

In searching for what lies beneath the polish, there is only one way to go, and it isn’t by covering it up with more layers.

 

Falling upward is another term for facing FAILURE; FAILURE, with a big “F.”

 

The acronym regarding the past events of my life goes something like this:

 

F  ear

A nger

I  ncompetence

L oss

U selessness

R emorse

E mptiness

 

Ah, yes, failure is the quintessential companion, the perfect accoutrement to opening a bottle of fine wine, something I’ve yet to discover. 

 

I prefer ” Goats do Roam,” (for those with an undergraduate degree or higher, this is a play on words for the region where French wine often comes from, ‘Cotes du Rhone’) or the cherry-infused, oak fermented, peppered, pungent, velvet smooth finish of two buck Chuck at Trader Joes. 

 

I do have discriminating tastes, as you know.

 

I’m not advocating drinking as the great panacea for facing failure, but it does make you feel better, at least for a while.  It’s my favorite anesthesia, and the most ephemeral.  I think that’s a good thing.

 

What lies beneath the polish is the only path to authenticity, because it’s the only part of you that really matters.

 

Here’s a test:

 

1. Do you say what you’re really thinking, without regard to how it’s going to be received?

 

2. Do you air your flaws, and not place judgment on them?

 

3. Do you roll your eyes and walk away? Do you listen to the trivial pursuit of despondency, from people who hope to take you to a dark place that will erase your bright smile, your congenial demeanor, or your genuine enthusiasm? You know people like this.   They can’t stand that you’re not as miserable as they are.

 

4. Do you do the thing that feels right, that feels good?

 

If you’ve answered “no” to all of the above, then you’re as whacked as me, but there is hope, because AWARENESS is the first step toward falling upward.

 

Don’t do the thing that feels like guilt. It is the one emotion that drives us like no other.  It takes us to a labyrinth, a place that goes NO WHERE, and eventually you DO have to face the Minotaur.

 

Last year, I had my astrological chart done by an intelligent, competent, experienced astrologer.  Okay, she’s a friend of mine and she seemed to know what she was doing.  Besides, it was free.

 

I admit, it was remarkably uncanny.  Based on the “chart”, the numbers, the “data” (and there truly is a statistical methodology in this ilk), the results were not discretionary, but specifically accurate. 

 

I wanted to know more.

 

“What does it say about my future?”

 

“It says that next year will be the most pivotal year of your life.”

 

I had visions of grandeur.  Publishing my book, traveling the world, becoming debt free, losing 20 pounds, living the “good life” that I so deserved. 

 

“When things get better, when I do that thing that brings me success, when the Universe finally rewards me for my hard work…”

 

When, when, when….the box gets so full, it groans with girth, underneath the layers of polish and cloisonné.

 

This is the most pivotal year of my life because this is the year that I’ve discovered the success of FAILURE.  Yes, so far, I have failed achieving ANY of my goals, yet I’ve succeeded.  Why? 

 

Falling upward is not just about learning from your mistakes.  Falling upward is not just about tenacity.  Falling upward is not just about being grateful for what you have now. 

 

Falling upward is nothing more than embodying your authentic self. 

 

Your authentic you, could care less about whether or not you achieved your goals, (GUILT) whether or not you made a million dollars this year (ANGER), whether or not you write down the five things you’re grateful for today (GUILT), or whether or not you have a job (FEAR).

 

Your authentic self only cares about being free. It’s the non-judgmental part of you that isn’t attached to emotions like guilt, or anger, or fear. 

 

Failure.

 

F ortitude

A dvance

I nnovation

L egacy

U pward

R esurrect

E xcellence

 

Your authentic self would see FAILURE as a means toward success, because your authentic self only sees you as you really are, and can’t understand why there are other versions of you. 

 

These are the versions that don’t sleep because you are worrying about losing your job.  The ones that spend hours trying to please someone who doesn’t notice you’re doing it for them; the punctilious freak that can’t sit still, or quiet your brain because if you do, then the whole Universe will blow up and you’ll miss the ending.

 

Why can’t we portray ourselves authentically?  We can, but it’s risky.

 

You might turn heads.  You might make people mad.  You might cause controversy.

 

Two of my friends just got the news.

 

“Well, we got the laid off, as of October.” 

 

I felt the blow, put my hand on hers, and was about to say, “Is there anything I can do?”, but stopped short.

 

That’s not how I really felt.  I know what I believe. I put my hand on hers and said, “Wow, that really sucks paycheck wise, but now you have an opportunity to do something you really want to do.” 

 

She said, “I like the way you think.”

 

She didn’t want sympathy.  She wanted affirmation.  She fell upward.

 

Embrace your authentic self, because it embraces you.  It knows you’re perfect the way you are, and longs only to be free and celebrant.  You might make people think.  You might make sustaining contributions.  You might succeed. 

 

You might dance on laughter-silvered wings…and do a hundred things people have never dreamed of.

 

Fall upward…and soar.