Bring4th

Full Version: Step Up to the Plate
You're currently viewing a stripped down version of our content. View the full version with proper formatting.
In fourth grade my friend Dawn and I decided to enter the school talent show. We came up with a song and dance routine from the musical “A Chorus Line.” We practiced for hours, we had cute costumes, we had our song memorized, our moves were perfectly choreographed.

The day of the audition came. I was nervous. But we went out and sang and danced our guts out. When it was over, I was thrilled. Excited even! I began to look forward to the actual talent show when we could sing and dance in front of a real audience.

But we had to wait to find out if we were going to be in the show.

The next day I was outside with my class for P.E. It was a baseball day. Ugh. I hated playing baseball. It’s hard to enjoy something you really suck at. I couldn’t field, couldn’t catch, couldn’t hit the ball, I always struck out. I don’t think I ever made it on base. I hated baseball so much that I would slink to the end of the bench hoping we wouldn’t have enough time for me to actually go up to bat.

That strategy usually worked, and I could avoid having to shame myself in front of my classmates when I struck out yet again.

But that day, luck was not with me. Things were moving too fast, and I was inching ever closer to the front end of the bench. I was so nervous to go up to bat. I hated hearing the taunts and jeers from my classmates who would tease me everytime I swung and missed.

Suddenly we were interrupted by someone giving my teacher a note. When she read it she looked over at me and Dawn and said, “Erin… Dawn… I am so sorry. I’m afraid you did not make it into the talent show.”

Huh? What?

I was dumbfounded.

She went on to say, “It says here they only had room for 30 acts, and yours was the only act not to be selected.”

The only act? They couldn’t fit one more act into the show? Seriously?

The blood started rushing through my ears. How humiliating. I apparently wasn’t good enough for a 4th grade talent show. Wow. I had thought we were pretty good too. Inside I was crushed. But mostly I was embarrassed to the point where I wanted to die of shame.

As I sat there, letting this sink in, I heard someone say, “Erin, GO! It’s your turn to bat!”

Oh great, now I would shame myself again by striking out.

But as I was walking up to bat, in a really numbed out state of mind, I suddenly got mad.

The shame, humiliation and embarrassment gave way to anger.

Really? 31 acts tried out and you only take 30? Who would do something like that to young, hopeful 10 year olds. You ought to be ashamed of yourselves. We were good. I know we were. And I wouldn’t be in your precious little talent show now if you paid me!

I grabbed the bat and got into position. I was seething with anger, adrenaline pumping through my veins. I was barely aware of the people out on the field.

When the ball pitched through the air towards me, I could see it with laser focus. I swung the bat as hard as I could and connected with the ball. The power of that impact is something I still remember to this day. That ball was my frustration, and the bat was my anger.

I hit that ball so hard, it sailed right over the center fieldman’s head. I saw all the heads out on the field turn with open mouths and watch the ball go screaming past them.

The entire team on the bench was silent.

Then suddenly I heard someone say “Run, Erin, run!”

I’d never been in this position before. I wasn’t really prepared for what to do next.

I dropped the bat like I’d seen other players do, and started running to first base. Wow! Then I heard people say “Keep going, Erin. Keep running!”

What?

I ran to second base. Again, more people cheering me on.

“Go, Erin, go!”

I kept running and hit third base. By now someone had retrieved the ball and was throwing it down the field.

But I kept running, determined to make it all the way home. And I did. And the team on the bench went wild, cheering, clapping, hooping and hollering.

And a little voice in my head said, “That’s who you are. Not the person that didn’t make it into a talent show. You’re the person who can hit a home run if she really wants to. Every time. You’ve got it in you.”

That experience stayed with me for years.

That was the day I learned that fear holds you back and doesn’t support you. That sometimes you have to get mad to get over fear. And that deep within you, you have the capacity to hit a home run. Every time.

Sometimes you don’t know what you’re capable of until you’re tested.

After that day, I was never afraid to go up to bat again. And I took that lesson with me into other aspects of my life. Step up to the plate. Show the world what you’ve got. Don’t be afraid to swing. You never know when you’re going to hit a home run!

*sniped* from Erin pavlinas blog
I like the story, I think it has a decent message, but there is one part I think could potentially be problematic.

Quote:And a little voice in my head said, “That’s who you are. Not the person that didn’t make it into a talent show. You’re the person who can hit a home run if she really wants to. Every time. You’ve got it in you.”

The truth is, she is the person that didn't make it into a talent show and the person who can hit a home run. She is both, and both are acceptable and should be loved.

I had an experience that helped me to realize this. When I was in middle school, I was bullied very badly. I was rather weak and small, unsocialized, and just didn't know how to fit in. Middle school kids can be really mean. I would get pushed down during recess, picked on, drawn on, people would steal my things, put signs on my back...the violence never went beyond pushing me to the ground, but the humiliation was torture. I was utterly depressed.

At a certain point, I basically hated myself for being this person, for not being strong enough to stand up for myself, for not being capable of fitting in. I eventually realized that I had completely control over this and that I could change it. I could become strong, I could learn to socialize, I could put myself out there and gain a mask that would allow me to navigate the waters of the hostile social environment of public school.

And I did all of this. By the time I graduated from high school, I was a completely different person. I was strong, I stood up for myself when I needed to, but I generally didn't need to because I fit in and people liked me. I liked myself, this person I had become. I was no longer the weak kid that I hated. Good riddance to him, I thought.

And this was all well and good for a while, until a couple years ago. I moved in with a roommate who would "bully" me in her own, subtle way with lectures about beliefs and spirituality, and I would lose my grounding, stay silent, and sulk afterwards. I started becoming emotionally unstable when I was challenged as a person, and I could tell that there was some deep catalyst needing to be addressed, but I didn't know what it was. I didn't realize that the weak, incapable Austin was repressed and was starting to manifest, as repressed things do.

It came to the surface when I was getting an astrology reading from an awesome friend and we came to a certain point where I felt an intuitive sort of nervousness. I knew that something was about to come that would be jarring. She started to describe to me about how my charts read as though I were scared of standing up for myself, for my beliefs - that I was prone to being bullied. Hearing those words caused my middle school years to rush back in a sudden flash of emotion. I was overwhelmed with the sadness that I had felt when I was being bullied in middle school. The weakness, the awkwardness, the fear, the inability to relate to those around me - it was all there coming out in tears.

I realized that I had rejected this part of myself. I said, literally, "I don't like this Austin, so I will manifest a new Austin and leave the old Austin behind." This, I think, goes against the ultimate goal of integrating our aspects of consciousness. To decide through will power to separate and bury a part of ourselves and replace it with something else is not a path to being a whole and complete person. Middle school Austin was still inside of me, still weak and scared, and now unloved by me. I was reminded of Ra's words: "Each acceptance smoothes part of the many distortions that the faculty you call judgment engenders." I viewed this part of myself with judgment, and it gave rise to this distortion.

And so I realized that I needed to spend some time with middle school Austin and come to a full acceptance of him, to love him and integrate him into my complete self. This wasn't terribly difficult, after setting my intention to do so, but it did take some conscious work to fully explore all of these aspects I had judged and repressed, bring them to the light, and bless them with my acceptance.

I suppose I kind of hijacked this thread with this story, but I felt it was relevant to the heart of what the author was conveying. I think it's important that we love all aspects of ourselves - the person who was rejected from the talent show, the person who was scared to step up to the plate, as well as the person who hits the home run. We can realize our potential to hit a home run and manifest that easily, but when we do that while accepting all other aspects of ourselves, I feel it is that much more powerful. We are in balance with our shadows, the side of us that we prefer not to manifest into the world, and this balance brings serenity. Then, if we happen to miss the swing, we are just as at peace with ourselves as if we had scored a home run. We can go on and try again without hesitation, without frustration or fear, and with love in our hearts.

(cheesy I know)
Thank you, Austin.
i was bullied by my 2 older brothers my entire childhood. u kno that stuff they make people smell to wake them up after being knocked out? 1 time 1 of my brothers told me he had this new really good-smelling cologne & he cracked open a container of that stuff under my nose & i inhaled as hard as i could thinking i was about to smell greatness...it was terrible - all kinds of terrible memories like that

no1 picked on me in school & think it's bc i had a look in my eyes that said, "my life is hard enough." & bc of the bullying i endured from the brothers i typically never bullied any1 - i was too familiar with how bad it can cause one to feel. i did it every now & then, though, if i thought some1 was asking for it. 1 time in middle school i got an idea that i thought was brilliant: put tape in my hand, sticky side out, then hit some1 in the back of the head to where they wouldn't realize i had put tape on their head. & who did i pick to do this to? flabio, the biggest bully in my class. after i hit him (not that hard either) he hit me back incredibly hard (in the head) & then a few moments later when he realized tape was stuck on the back of his head i got hit again (in the head again) just as hard - if not harder...& then i cried. & then every1 was like "why did u do that???" & i was like "i don't kno"
I've had this thing recently where I have been making up stories which justify certain courses of actions which I believe would not have helped me and which I have not been able to do repeatedly because of strong stress in my third eye.

Eventually, there was a storm and my house was partly flooded. Something deep in me gave up at that point. And I think that this is the best thing. To stop fighting the universe is the best thing. It's so easy to think 'this is what I should be doing', I'm better than this, this or this etc.
(07-30-2014, 07:25 AM)Phoenix Wrote: [ -> ]I've had this thing recently where I have been making up stories which justify certain courses of actions which I believe would not have helped me and which I have not been able to do repeatedly because of strong stress in my third eye.

Eventually, there was a storm and my house was partly flooded. Something deep in me gave up at that point. And I think that this is the best thing. To stop fighting the universe is the best thing. It's so easy to think 'this is what I should be doing', I'm better than this, this or this etc.

i discovered at a very young age that lying is idiotic & never pans out well
(07-30-2014, 02:50 AM)isis Wrote: [ -> ]no1 picked on me in school & think it's bc i had a look in my eyes that said, "my life is hard enough." & bc of the bullying i endured from the brothers i typically never bullied any1 - i was too familiar with how bad it can cause one to feel. i did it every now & then, though, if i thought some1 was asking for it. 1 time in middle school i got an idea that i thought was brilliant: put tape in my hand, sticky side out, then hit some1 in the back of the head to where they wouldn't realize i had put tape on their head. & who did i pick to do this to? flabio, the biggest bully in my class. after i hit him (not that hard either) he hit me back incredibly hard (in the head) & then a few moments later when he realized tape was stuck on the back of his head i got hit again (in the head again) just as hard - if not harder...& then i cried. & then every1 was like "why did u do that???" & i was like "i don't kno"

That was very funny at the end there, I just re-read this post and thought that was funny.