I always wonder what that is - what receptor in my brain is sending that message to my body to respond with such a physical manifestation of my emotions. It's almost like the emotional receptors get overloaded and shift, sending a ripple of feelings down to my toes. I often wish I could stop time just before it happens, so I could catch whatever the brain is saying and put it into words. Because sometimes people in my life give me that same reaction, and I'd really like to be able to tell them, out loud, just how they make me feel. In words. In a way that actually captures the shockwaves of emotion they just caused.
I've been very lucky in my life to be able to surround myself by people who, in one way or another, inspire me. I think it's kind of an unconscious "requirement" I have for inviting people into my life in anything more than a superficial or professional capacity. It's not something I actively think about; rather, with as introverted and self-conscious as I can be, I have become a very alert observer. Because I so often remain still and quiet, I am acutely aware of everything going on around me - and everyone.
I like to be inspired. I like to feel in awe of others - it's exciting to me to watch from the outside as someone does something amazing. Whether it be an unbelievable physical feat - like running a marathon or performing 32 fouettes in Don Quixote - or an act of kindness and compassion so tender it makes me want to cry. Things that, in one way or another are, or at least seem, superhuman. Impossible. Things that leave me breathless.
It's an incredible feeling to observe these scenarios, and to know that in some way, however small, I'm a part of it - that the person accomplishing the awesome is in my life, in one capacity or another. Of all the things I struggle with (and the list is endless on that), I think this may be why jealousy really isn't one of them. I'm too excited by what other people can do to be envious that I can't do it myself.
It's my ballet teacher from when I was 16 who changed the way I looked at dance by showing me that kindness could get the same results as cruelty. My friend in college who was dealt the entire deck of mental illnesses and overcame them to become one of the most brilliant writers I've ever met. My friend from high school running the entire Boston Marathon this year on a broken foot. Another friend finding the time in her more than busy life to be there for me when I needed it most - and to find that time when I didn't even ask for it. My husband when he is in a room creating. And the countless other people who have entered my life, even in passing - even in a brief exchange on the subway - who have sent shockwaves to my core by being, in one way or another, extraordinary.
I try to tell these people that they inspire me - I try to tell them about the chills - at least, in ways that I hope don't freak them out or cause them to question my sanity (which may, indeed, be questionable). But the words just aren't really there - I don't have them in my vocabulary stockpile. But I wish I did. Because I think if people knew how powerful their talents and actions were, maybe they would understand how much awesomeness they possess and how valuable they truly are. Even if just to the little blonde School Mouse in the corner. And I think if more people were able to process the value that they bring to the lives of others every day, this world would be an entirely different - and better - place.
Some days I feel really lucky. Some days I'm glad I am "the quiet one". Because I get the best seats. I get to be inspired. I get to see the awesomeness in the world that, were I a little louder, I might miss. I may not be the life of the party, but that's okay. I'll go ahead and be the wallflower, so long as the wall has a good view.
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