Correction

I reread my "Following my bliss" post of yesterday and had to change some things. It's funny, I'd been thinking of how I was defining myself as being this or that and how that post was like a snapshot of my frame of mind, of my thoughts, just at that time, but that I don't always view myself in quite that way, and then Pema's lesson today came in. Yesterday the wild child was screaming, so I made it sound as though she's the true me, but the true me is a mixture of many children. Most of the changes were minor, a kind of gentling of the screaming while keeping the points intact. But I had to change up the last paragraph quite a bit because I left out some important bits. So this is today's version:

Last summer my mom said she always thought of me as a free spirit. It surprised me that she thought this. I always felt she was disappointed with me when I didn't conform to an expected way of behaving, but her free spirit comment didn't come out of disappointment, it came out of love and a knowledge of who I am. My brother saw me as a hippy, a flower child. Long ago my best friend called me bohemian. These are all true aspects of me, that wild child within, but I've often silenced her in favor of the "normal" part of me that I thought people would be more comfortable with, a daughter to be proud of, a wife one could love, a mom that wouldn't be too embarrassing, a co-worker one could take seriously. Last year she wouldn't be silenced any longer. She screamed. And she's still screaming, though at lower decibel levels as she figures out how to be present without taking over. Because that wouldn't be any better than Ms. Safety having control. And at last, I'm finding my way in my painting. I may still not be great at it, but I am an artist, and though I'm taking my time about it, I am following my bliss.