I love earrings. But the idea of anything puncturing, piercing, or poking my body makes me queasy. I first tried getting my ears pierced in college, fortified by two glasses of wine and my friends’ assurance that this was “nothing.” Two months later, and I was still creeped out every time I had to work a stud through the flesh of my ear lobe. One night, preparing to go out, I stood in the bathroom, teeth clenched, sweat beading out all over my body, and began the dreaded ritual of putting on my earrings. The next thing I knew, I was down on the cold tile floor, coming out of a dead faint.
That was it for me. Fear shaped my style: I decided that I would buy funky old vintage clip-ons and stake out my own un-pierced territory somewhere to the far right of fashion. Needless to say, the thought of a tattoo was never entertained.
Flash forward thirty years. I am no longer a young person making some sort of retro statement with her clunky old-lady earrings. I’m just an old lady wearing clunky old-lady earrings. Earrings, by the way, that pinch and hurt.
I’m not sure where the idea came from, but I suddenly blurted out to a friend on the phone the other night that I was thinking of getting my ears pierced. (Until that moment, I hadn’t even known that I was.) She was all over it. “Tomorrow?” she asked. And then, before I could back down, “I’ll find out where you should go. And I’ll meet you and hold your hand.”
And so it was that at 4:30 yesterday afternoon, I was at Claire’s, where I had never been, in the mall, where I never go, watching a freckle-faced nine-year-old girl squinch up her eyes and hold steady while a young woman popped a couple of sterile studs into her ears. “It didn’t hurt at all,” she assured me when it was over.
I reminded my friend Debbie that I’d tried this once before, and hadn’t had the stomach for it. “Yeah,” she shot back, “but that was before childbirth. You can handle this now.” She pulled a little white box out of her purse. “These are your inspiration,” she said, and opened it to reveal a beautiful pair of dangling handmade drops fashioned of resin and silver and gold, utterly unlike anything I’ve ever owned.
Debbie approved the placement of two purple dots on my ears. She held both my hands in hers, and in less than a minute, it was done. No big deal.
If I’ve set an intention for 2011, it is simply this: Feel the fear, and do it anyway. I want to step up to the plate, take a swing, and make contact with my own life. “We are what we repeatedly do,” my yoga teacher said this morning. So often, my own instinct is to hesitate, to hold back, to defer, stopped by some vague sense of not quite having what it takes to do whatever it is I dream of doing. But the ups and downs of mid-life are teaching me something about the nature of dreams and the half-life of possibilities. We don’t have forever to get this right. But we do have right now; we are offered the infinite possibilities of this very moment — a moment that will never come again. “Don’t let your throat tighten with fear,” began this morning’s Rumi poem. “Take sips of breath all day and all night, before death closes your mouth.”
It’s so easy, so tempting, to repeat old patterns, to cling to what I know. But why not take a sip of breath and begin to move, ever so quietly, into new ways of being, new ways of thinking, new ways of doing? I realize, of course, that getting my ears pierced at age 52 is no big deal. Yet, saying “yes” to this small desire, after shrinking away from it for thirty years, feels, well, kind of symbolic to me. And my tiny diamond studs are a secret reminder: I don’t have to be who I’ve always been, or stay afraid of the things that have always scared me.
Wow! Bravo! What a great metaphor. And, incidentally, Claire’s is apparently totally THE place to do it, as Grace tells me daily. xox
So it would seem, given the line at the door. Other friends were slightly appalled that I hadn’t gone somewhere more “medical.” Oh well, I kind of liked being part of the throng at Claire’s!
Good for you. I had the same fear and got over it about a year ago. I went to a jewelry store in NYC with my niece who also wanted to do the same. I think a jewelry store is the way to go because it is cosmetic. I later read other websites about post piercing care. (I almost went to Claire’s at the mall a year before I did it but ran away when I saw a girl asking for her third piercing.) Enjoy!!
One year I launched my “why the hell not?” campaign. Unless I could think of a good reason NOT to do something, I did it. I said “yes” to a lot that year that I wouldn’t normally have said “yes” to, pushed myself out of my comfort zone, and learned in the process that most of what we fear isn’t all that scary when it comes down to it!
oh wow katrina….it’s really super!!! and we’re only in january.
feel the fear and do it anyway. definitely. if you aren’t already reading this blog ~ (http://www.mth2011.tumblr.com), i think you’d like it. 🙂 lara/natalie/gina/emily are not only wonderful friends of mine, but they’re awesome too.
congrats on the pierced ears! i love that it came out of your mouth and you didn’t even know it was coming. that’s how the best things work sometimes.
Oh yes, what a great blog — thanks for introducing me. I love that little Life. Is. Too. Short post. Couldn’t have said it better.
Good for you. This year will be the year of no fear! I love this post.
HI Katrina, It’s almost like you lost your aural virginity before you were ready and swooned, like a heroine in a novel by Kleist… and then, like sleeping beauty, found yourself ready to awaken your third ear, as it were, your spirit hearing. Enjoy the music of the anima mundi, the world soul, which you have been long-divining in the sacred mundane. I look forward to hearing your unfolding response to this newest level to which you are called. Namaste
I also waited a long time – when I was 30, to be exact – to have my ears pierced. I’d never really wanted them. I always thought they would be lost in my long hair.
I had long hair all my life, and loved it, but at 30 I wanted to make a decisive break from the self I’d always known. I wanted to make an outward change to symbolize the change I felt happening on the inside. I decided to do the thing that scared me the most: get a *very* short haircut.
My stylist didn’t know what I meant when I said “pixie”and gave me, basically, a boy’s cut. My friend looked at me after and said, “Oh my gosh, it’s Flock of Seagulls!”
Well, at least I could rock some gorgeous earrings. I also went to Claire’s at the mall I never went into! Now over 10 years later, my hair is long again, but I still love my pierced ears.
Here’s to taking more risks and rocking them!
Small steps, small steps — seems to be the way to effect change both on the inside and the outside. Love it that, in your case, you got an even bigger change than you bargained for, and now you can laugh at the Flock of Seagulls. Humor helps!
Yes, yes, yes!!! Thank you for the reminder that conquering our fears is vital for our own growth!
You go girl!!
Yay! Way to go , Katrina! I must disagree with your description of “clunky old lady earrings”. I love the pair that I consider to be your signature earrings. If you don’t have them converted to posts, pass them on to me! This old lady would be pleased to wear them. So, what’s next??
Oh Lee, those are probably the only keepers. Next? Maybe a headstand in the middle of the room (instead of against the wall. . .) Or downhill skiing — it’s been 20 years. Will keep you posted!
I love how your earrings symbolize your last statement about fear, moving through fear, changing patterns–all of it.
That’s what creating my doughnut dreams does for me–they are my “secret reminders” like your earrings. Although I don’t wear them physically, I feel the messages they symbolize, in different ways.
I need to make myself some doughnut earrings–ha ha ha–but I don’t have pierced ears. My fridge magnets will have to do for now!
Hmm, would you like some nice clips?? I have quite a stash here. And by the way, your “Yes!” doughnuts are on my door; every time I leave the house, I do so with your words of affirmation on my lips.
I love this story. You were ruled by a desire deep inside and not rational thinking. You spoke “it” without even realizing you desired it. That’s amazing.
Just 3 months ago, I was blindsided by my dad’s cancer diagnosis. He was seemingly healthy. Active and vibrant and only 63. Just 10 days before we learned of the cancer, I was texting my husband and without realizing it…. I had texted, “My dad is ill.” I have no idea where it came from, and how I wrote it without realizing it and how I somehow sensed my dad’s illness. I ignored the text and called it a strange typing mistake. But 10 days later, it was confirmation of our ability to know so much more when we let go of the over-thinking and just speak from our heart and soul… or in my case, write from the heart and soul.
Meredith
We know so much more than we think we do. Your story makes me think about the importance of paying more attention to that quiet inner voice that, every once in a while, offers up some surprising insight or information. It’s so easy to brush it off, ignore it, move on.
Exactly…. I think this difficult time has definitely taught me to look inward and pay attention to that voice more frequently. It’s funny, I hesitated to tell my dad that story (of the “you are ill” subconscious writing) even after his diagnosis. I thought he might dismiss it as impossible or imagined because he is a practical man of science. However, last week, I had an overwhelming need to share it with him; his reply was, “I believe it. We are very connected.” He then proceeded to tell me the story of a day back in the 1980’s when he found himself with an overwhelming desire to see the house he grew up in (he had left home at a very young age and never returned…. His parents were truly incapable of parenting him). He listened to this “voice” and found himself driving to his childhood home… and upon his arrival, there was a moving van in front of the house. His parents were moving that day (!), and he hadn’t had contact with them in years. That voce was certainly connected!
Last week, when my dad’s cancer progressed to his brain and he found himself unable to talk or walk, I quickly planned for my cross-country visit to be with him. As I prepared, I kept encountering Rumi in one form or another (in an e-mail, overhearing a conversation, etc.). The day I brought my dad home from the hospital. I saw your post on Rumi and the following day, my dad’s best friend from childhood came to spend a few days with his buddy, and told me that in his spare time (he is an endocrinologist) he studies Rumi. How many times can the universe talk to you?! And now I am absorbed in my own Rumi study. And how relevant it is to my dad’s situation, my life and my work. It was told to me over and over again.
You have been providing us with some wonderful Rumi. I wanted to share this one with you because I think it so beautifully relates to your book and the discussion of your older son’s school experience. I loved it so much that I put it on my web site which is dedicated to learning (www.LabelsNotLimits.com). As a learning specialist, when I read this poem, written so very long ago, I can’t help but smile at its relevance today. Professionally, I work with families that have children with learning differences. And I am also a mom to 3 kids, one with a disability. I love this poem because it reminds us that our children have their own intelligence from within, and my job professionally, and as a parent, is to, in part, recognize and foster this intelligence and allow it to blossom and show. We too often forget this with all the pressures in education today.
“There are two kinds of intelligence: one acquired,
as a child in school memorizes facts and concepts
from books and from what the teacher says,
collecting information from the traditional sciences
as well as from the new sciences.
With such intelligence you rise in the world.
You get ranked ahead or behind others
in regard to your competence in retaining
information. You stroll with this intelligence
in and out of fields of knowledge, getting always more
marks on your preserving tablets.
There is another kind of tablet, one
already completed and preserved inside you.
A spring overflowing its springbox. A freshness
in the center of the chest. This other intelligence
does not turn yellow or stagnate. It’s fluid,
and it doesn’t move from outside to inside
through conduits of plumbing-learning.
This second knowing is a fountainhead
from within you, moving out.”
From the translations of Rumi by Coleman Barks
This is a wonderful poem. And perfectly timed for me, as I watch from afar as my older son navigates his way through a month in London, and my younger one feeling the pressures of college on the horizon. Thanks so much for sharing your story of “inner knowing” and this extraordinary poem. Rumi surprises me every day — so contemporary, so directly engaged in who we are now, and yet. . .his is a 13th century voice. How amazing is that?
maybe i should fly on a plane this year:)
I hope you do! Let me know!
Sometimes change involves NOT doing something. Our oldest son went back to school in Boston (from Houston) yesterday. For the first time in my life, my Christmas tree is still decorated on January 16th! I decided to treasure my son’s time at home, to savor each moment together…the tree could wait…while the other two boys were at school and my husband was at the office, my son and I shared morning coffe, deep conversation and quiet,treasured time together…Here’s to changing patterns and enjoying life!
You are so right! I’m so glad you took that time with your son. And I love the notion of “changing patterns and enjoying life.” Now, you can put on some music and take your time with that tree. . .
Congrats! Long dangly earrings are so much fun to wear. On the subject of fear, isn’t it crazy that something so small can hold you back? You mentioned “Feel the Fear and Do It Anyway,” that book by Susan Jeffers really helped me get out of my comfort zone–and I’ve rarely looked back.
@Elizabeth–love the idea of a “why the hell not” movement ^_^
That book is coming off the book shelf and back onto my bedside table. My son read it in high school and it was a life-changer for him, too. It’s easy to slip back into old ways, which is why a little reminder is so welcome.
This post made me giggle – guess what I did for almost a decade? Pierced ears! My very first job was at a boutique just like Claires. I’ve pierced hundreds & hundreds of ears :).
Hi Katrina,
I have been meaning to post for a while…it was such a pleasure meeting you last fall at Bookends and then sharing in a yoga class with you. Your blogs are always so poignant, hopeful and honest. You are an inspiration in so many ways, and this recent post about fear is a reminder for me to truly live each day.
Thank you.
Inner and outer growth…thank you for helping us make both journeys.
Congratulations on taking the plunge and piercing your ears! My 7 year old daughter and I just visited Claire’s last year for her birthday. She “freaked out” about 4 times and the little X’s had to be redrawn, but we persevered and she likes them pierced, now.
Oh, YES!!! Your post dissolved me into tears. I just finished treatment for my second bout of breast cancer, and I really needed to read this. Thank you.