A Particular Discomfort
As a little girl, I didn’t dream of being a princess or a movie star, I dreamed of being a seal. I was haunted by their faces and envious of how fearlessly they played in the local waves. My sisters and I spent our summer vacation pretending to be seals, competing to see how long we could hold our breath under water. Then, we would see how fast we could swim with our legs held tightly together and our arms at our sides. We reasoned that if a kiss could turn a frog into a prince then it was perfectly plausible that a kiss from a seal could change us into seals. We just had to get them to do it!
Our parents created a quirky subculture that combined make-believe and reality. Our version of Santa Claus left a sooty mark on foreheads as a warning to behave. Our Easter bunny brought bathing suits instead of chocolate and we sought our father’s elusive respect by body surfing bigger and better waves. I may have left Santa Claus and the Easter bunny behind but not the underlying messages as I perceived them.
Over the years, my dreams of magical transformation evolved but remained stubbornly intact. As a teenager, I thought that if I could finally grow boobs, boys would notice me, because if you looked good, POOF, that fixed everything! As a twenty-something, I believed that finding my soul mate would be the key to immediate happiness because love “conquers all” right? After that, I hoped that professional success would get me the validation I needed – I would finally be “good enough”.
It's no surprise that I had to compose a life without the magic of seal kisses or fairy godmothers. In that life I have sailed 6 thousand miles, raised two children, battled cancer twice, worked in four countries and kept my soul mate close through it all. What have I discovered along the way?
For one thing, transformation has never happened to me; it has been the result of hard work (drat!) and yes, a little luck. I was always “good enough” but also a “work in progress”. Most importantly, there is a particular kind of discomfort that I now recognize as a good sign. It means that I am learning something difficult, meeting people that might not like me, eating something that might be gross (Sannakji- look it up!). Most of the time when I feel that way, things work out well; and they are never boring.
Where I now live, I can’t swim with the harbor seals. But when I slip into the water at dawn, the silver bubbles flow back along my arms and I feel again a burst of joy. It has taken me a long time to discover that I am the magic.