France, continued

Barbara Sher

So, as I was saying, I went to France to find myself. In the process, I found some super new friends, a way to silence my inner critic, and a fondness for goat cheese.

Let’s start with the new friends. The self-selected group of people who showed up for Barbara Sher’s Scanner Retreat had a lot in common. We are all pretty smart cookies, we are interested in a plethora of pursuits, and we struggle to find our niche in life. Except for Ray, a friend and invited guest, I was the oldest seeker there, a bit of an embarrassment. You’d think I’d have it together at my age. [Shut up, Inner Critic! Who says you EVER have to have things figured out??]

My fellow Scanners were (to summarize in a one-dimensional and totally inadequate fashion):

An economist from Saudi Arabia who is chafing at her family’s expectations that she will get her PhD, be wildly successful, marry someone appropriate and have children, and also stay at home and take care of them.

An interior architect from Germany who coaches other gifted adults and had to move back home while healing from a skiing accident that put her temporarily in a wheelchair and in a funk. She is also recovering from a toxic job situation where she hung on too long.

An artist and actress from Los Angeles who feels she hasn’t reached her potential, and after hearing about her upbringing by parents who withheld affection and approval, I wonder how she has achieved all that she has.

A college professor from Michigan who is well on her way to becoming another Barbara Sher and is a martial arts expert, a dancer, a mother, and on and on. She’s a dynamo in a tiny package.

An attorney from Switzerland who wanted permission to follow her dreams, to sail around the world, to help people start businesses, and indulge her many passions. She speaks seven languages fluently.

A life coach from NYC who, in her own words, “woke up” after being the perfect wife and mother she was raised to me. She’s the only mail order bride (from the Phillipines) I’ve ever met. Her energy, charm and warmth will carry her far once she sheds the baggage she’s carrying around.

A smart, funny Sarah Silverman lookalike from NYC who is not quite ready to recognize that her well-intentioned father is crippling her and keeping her a 40-year-old child. She is extremely capable, is a whiz at research and helping others, and has zero confidence in her own abilities.

A Spanish education expert who administers government grants and is married to a sound engineer who is a history buff. They were invited by Barbara to evaluate her methods, and offer advice. Until they had to depart early for Barcelona, they were full participants in our group.

Throughout our sessions, it was easy to see what direction everyone else should take and to offer encouragement and resources. It’s infinitely harder to do it for yourself.

All of us have an Inner Critic that speaks with the voice of a parent, a spouse, a friend, or (worse) our own self. That voice tells us we’re scatterbrained, we’re underachievers, we’re jack-of-all-trades-master-of-none, we should grow up and pick a career, we should, we should, we should.

My own Inner Critic tells me things like “There are a million people who are already doing that better than you,” or, “You can’t make any money doing that.” It stops me in my tracks.

My week with Barbara and the fabulous international group of Scanners taught me to say, “So what? This is what I am happy doing and I’m going to do it!”

When she (for my Inner Critic is a Negative Nellie) suggests that I don’t deserve to be happy when so many people are not, I tell her to stuff it. The only chance I have to make others happy is to be happy myself.

So, what makes me happy? Right now (for I have learned to follow my interests wherever they make take me) it is anything that has to do with yarn. I can’t stop knitting. I am teaching myself to crochet. I learn something new every day. I go into yarn shops and swoon at the colors and textures. I am obsessed.

Ironically, I have come around full circle to the fiber mania of my young adulthood, when I raised sheep, spun wool, wove cloth, and sold my handwovens at art fairs. I don’t know that I have the stomach for art fairs any more – sitting in the sun, making nice with strangers, and then schlepping all my stuff back to the van doesn’t appeal to me – but I do intend to set up an online shop through Etsy. If you haven’t seen it, Etsy.com is a marketplace for all things handcrafted and/or vintage. Some artists do quite well, some languish.

I will not make much money, if any. But I will be busy designing, creating, photographing, writing about, and posting my creations, and that makes me happy.

My fellow retreaters are all embarking on their own adventures and we have formed a support group for each other, mindful of Barbara’s dictum, “Isolation is the dream killer.”

During my week in France, I learned to pay attention to what makes me happy and then do it. Sounds so simple, doesn’t it?

Some us just need to get permission.