It’s Validating to Empower People to Embrace Their Authentic Sparkle

50% off coupon, thanks everyone!I’ve lived many lives in my almost five decades on this Earth. In one of my lives, I was so quiet that I could barely speak in public. Looking people in the eye was out of the question. Many of the things I wanted felt like they were beyond my reach.At the time, that was a life of embarrassment and despair. However, I’ve come to think of those years with a certain fondness. I’m hesitant to say that shyness is something I’ve “overcome,” because that implies there’s something wrong with how I felt. I didn’t “overcome” those feelings because those feelings haven’t gone away.They’re still in me. They still come out from time to time. I don’t fear or resent them. The only difference is that now, I’ve lived more lives and have more responses to choose from when I determine how to interact with the world.As I waited for my daughter at the dentist’s office, a girl came in with her mom. She reminded me of myself when I was her age. The way she moved suggested she didn’t wish to be noticed so I discreetly turned away. Quite a few kids take on a form of camouflage. They wear loose fitting clothing that’s either brown or gray. Their hair is unkempt.I behaved like a clown when I was that age. I made exaggerated motions when I moved. I tried to mimic the rolling stride of cartoons. I did these things to deflect attention. I did it so I wouldn’t be perceived as a threat.These are physical cues that send the message you don’t wish to be taken seriously. When I was that age, I wished only to be ignored. When you sense you won’t be accepted, you adopt a means of hiding.In literature, the court jester is the only one who can get away with speaking the truth. Other characters are beheaded. The jester endures. The same is true in a rural household where the father sees his sons as potential challengers to his throne.“Are you challenging me?”If you walk like a clown, it’s never seen as a challenge. Children are survivors. They might not be consciously aware of it, but they adopt behaviors that spare them from beatings.I remember the camouflage of children when I was in grade school. I remember observing it when I was a teacher. I see those kids all around. They’re beaten down. They’ve trained themselves to smother their inner sparkle.It’s not sustainable.Human beings can’t live like that.Both of my daughters blaze with their authentic light. I’m very proud of that. I’m relieved. It comes out in their laughter. Something catches their fancy and they erupt with a sound that reminds me of wind chimes.I hope they maintain this alignment with their authentic selves, but there are dangers lurking in the world. Perhaps a period of discord is inevitable. Maybe some kind of immortal purpose is served by the fact that we live so many lives. Too often, we allow our communities to descend into absurd justifications for why a flame should be extinguished. A sincere study of humility might teach us that we should never claim that authority.Before her appointment, my daughter sat with a twinkle in her eye. I knew she was on the lookout for a funny observation. Not biting or sarcastic, she delights in the joy of wordplay. The sparkle seeps out from the posture of a happy child. They sit straight with their eyes facing the world. You can almost hear a hum of electricity.They don’t bow or cringe or glance about as if expecting a blow. They don’t hide and denounce the world even as they clearly ache with longing to participate. Some of these kids find their sparkle and some of them pretend to find it because their misery becomes a source of discomfort to others — more camouflage.As a senior in high school, I began to let my sparkle out, but not on full beam. I let bits of it out, a twinkle of mischief. I didn’t realize how I appeared to others and I didn’t care. Then, somebody told me.One day, a boy named Lee approached me with a big smile on his face. He was a tall guy with curly black hair. He had an affable personality, but he was considered an “outsider” in our district. His long hair was enough for that.The teachers decided early on which kids they expected to become “troublemakers” and Lee was among them. Yet Lee carried on, good-natured and indifferent. Lee saw me strolling to class, and with a smile and a sparkle in his eye, he came up and said,“There you are, always strolling through the hallways like you don’t give a crap about anything! I saw you and I said to myself, ‘This guy’s not in a rush. He won’t bow down to the tyranny of the class schedule! Good for you man! You’re my hero!’”Then he gave me a slap of solidarity and waltzed off to his class.It made me smile because Lee had it all wrong. I did care about getting to class on time. I did care what people thought. I always had time to stroll through the hallways because I didn’t waste my time talking to people between classes.Lee admired a misconception, but when he approached me and allowed me to bask in the light of his sparkle, I felt better. I started to think,“That’s right, I don’t give a crap about them and the tyranny of their rules!”Over the years, I’ve lived many lives. In Peru, I was known among the young expats as the guy who organized awesomeness. I’d help people with their problems. I’d get newbies settled. I’d invite twenty people and we’d have massive parties that would last through the night. I could pull things like that off with ease.In my first semester of college, I sat in the back of the classroom and prayed the teacher wouldn’t call on me. I did everything I could to be invisible. In those days, I watched with envy as other people managed to take control of a room as if they were players on a stage. Some people walk down a hallway and when they turn the corner at the end, it’s like a sunset. They show so much of their sparkle that it seems like midnight when they’re gone. How exciting it is to be around people like that!I had the good fortune to become one of those people. From the inside, again, it’s not what you think. I’ll let you in on a secret. The times I blazed, it wasn’t my light at all. I’d learned to hold up a mirror.That’s the trick. You hold up a mirror and reflect the light of all those around you who are burning with a sparkle they don’t themselves have the courage to see. Give ’em a little assist. The secret is that it’s not about you. It’s about them, always.This is what I thought about today as I was waiting for my daughter to finish her appointment with the orthodontist. We have to help our children sparkle. You can’t pressure your children to shine any more than you can command a flower to bloom. The only option is to labor to create the conditions where blooming is possible.You do that by getting in touch with your own light. You have to call your sparkle to your eyes, then look in their eyes. Fill your heart and mind with your authentic sparkle, and will it to come bubbling out of you. Remember that all the young people you meet are a vision of you from another life.Don’t deny your authentic self. That can only lead to agony. At first, they’ll think that sparkle is something of yours that they can only aspire to achieve. That’s when you can tell them the truth they need to hear.“My eyes are a mirror, what you see is a reflection of you.”We live a lot of lives in our days on this Earth. Those lives are enriched when we encourage others to blaze with the light of their authentic selves. There’s no eternal truth to be discovered within the frail hubris of mortality. Look to the immortal sunbeam to guide you.Resist any external pressure to suppress your light. May it never change. May it always evolve. May it dance forever like a candle in the night.You all make this newsletter happen! Thanks for your sponsorship! I have payment tiers starting at as little as twenty dollars a year.Upgrade at 30% offUpgrade at 40% offUpgrade at 50% offUpgrade at 60% offI'm so happy you're here, and I'm looking forward to sharing more thoughts with you tomorrow.My CoSchedule referral linkHere’s my referral link to my preferred headline analyzer tool. If you sign up through this, it’s another way to support this newsletter (thank you).I'd Rather Be Writing is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to I'd Rather Be Writing at walterrhein.substack.com/subscribe