Several weeks ago I was asked to give a short talk at VCU's Rams in Recovery breakfast celebration at the Institute for Contemporary Art. I'd be meeting some of my students in person for the very first time and although there would be plenty of people I didn't know, I knew I’d feel at home. Recovering addicts and alcoholics are my people. In fact, I was so relaxed about talking to this big group of mostly strangers, I forgot that my brain would begin to eat itself the morning of the big day. At 5 am I could feel my vocal cords seize up as hot panic flashed through my head like a strobe light.
Well, dang, I thought. I guess I’m going to have to write my words down. Which is why I’m a writer instead of a speaker. I like my thoughts to pass through the filter of my heart and hand before spilling out into the room. I love teaching, whether it’s for a few people or several hundred because I am engaged in conversation, not performing a one-sided monologue, talking to people as opposed to talking at them.
Breakfast was lovely and when it was my turn to take the podium, I clung to my little sheath of stapled pages like an emotional support dog. I was thrilled to look out at a big room of beautiful people, knowing I could look back down.
My meditation teacher says that just because you are living your dharma and are doing something you are passionate about, doesn’t mean you’re good at everything. In fact, there are some things you might be terrible at. And you know what? Paper in hand, hand on my heart, that’s just fine with me.