I want to learn to sing.

I've been thinking about HOW I want to develop change in my life. I haven't really been procrastinating (hence, no recent blog posts). As that is my usual mode of operation, I think it is important to clarify that THIS time I wasn't procrastinating. I was hibernating, and letting ideas germinate and grow.

I wasn't coming up with answers for the longest time. Checklists discourage me, because I forget to do them, and then I feel guilty - and G_d knows, I already have enough shame and self-loathing in my life, I don't need to go looking for it.  Accountability partners haven't really worked out in the past, and everyone I know is working on their own growth. I have problems imagining anyone would be interested in helping me be accountable for learning to treat myself with compassion. After all, we live in a society where we are trained from infancy to be our own worst critics.

Then, I went to Mass on Sunday (yes, I KNOW it is Thursday - bear with me). The Boy was participating with his usual 10% enthusiasm, there was standing room only, we were seated in a back corner next to the garbage can, and I had an elbow in the bookshelf. To be fair, it was the first Sunday after the term started, and new students + desperate prayers to pass another term = extra bodies in an already outgrown space. I was feeling a bit disgruntled.

At the end of Mass, we sing a hymn. This Sunday, it was "We Three Kings," one of my favorite Christmas carols. A former student joyfully sang along at the top of his lungs, and I realized it was the most beautiful sound I had heard in a long, long while. My student doesn't have the ability to speak. He can vocalize and communicate, but it isn't typical speech. And he didn't give a fuck. He sang and sang and sang, bright and beautiful and glorious. I realized in that moment, I felt envy.

He has what I want - the presence of self to do what fills him with joy, and fuck any one who doesn't like it.

So when The Boy commented after Mass that the man sang like a wounded hippo, I said, "I know. I want to learn to sing like that." He thought I was joking. We were able to have a parenting moment, where we talked about courage, and honesty, and joy and giving 110%, and about judgement. But, that is his story, not mine.

My story is - I want to learn to sing like my student. I want to live my life out loud. I want to be honest with myself and the rest of the world.

 I'm still not sure HOW to do this, but I think I have a better idea of what that might look like now.