Friday, July 03, 2015
... and I'm wide awake with a suddenness that cut through the room like a shiv through warm butter!
"... this morning at 10:30 Forum will re-air from the archives a memorable interview by Michael Krasny with Ranger Betty Reid Soskin of the National Park Service ...". Without warning or expectation here I was on rotation on All Things Considered. That announcement was aired several times before breakfast, each time with the same effect. I really have begun to think of myself in the third person. Could hardly wait to hear her!
Yesterday, just as I was about to start my two o'clock program a woman in the front row of our little theater whispered to me that she and her husband had heard the interview on NPR a couple of weeks ago, and that they had driven all the way from Redwood City to hear my talk. It's so hard to know how to respond to this kind of attention, especially when the anger is so near the surface, and when I'm having such a hard time keeping my emotions in check. The vertigo is still a problem, so there's a feeling of imbalance that makes my steps unsure and confidence shaky.
Yet, once the lights are turned up so that the faces, the eyes, are connected with mine, the magic begins -- and the words come ... still ... as if I've been pre-programmed for this precise moment in time ... as if this is the first time I've spoken these now familiar words... .
This morning I sat alone propped on pillows hugging my knees at 10:30 and listened intently to Michael Krasny's voice as he announced the interview with this "third person," Betty Reid Soskin. I listened intently and, surprisingly, found myself lost in tears as it ended 30 minutes later. This time the tears were not from anger, but from somewhere deep inside -- tears of humility and wonder. I think -- before the interview closed I was hearing my voice from an ego-less state -- hearing myself from somewhere beyond myself -- a warm but raspy voice speaking truth spontaneously and guilelessly. Speaking of shameful things without shame. Speaking in a proud voice that was strangely not prideful.
Is this then, what is happening -- the magic?