“Put the Star in Starting Over”

Ellie introduced me to TED today.  I’d pretended for quite some time that I knew what TED talks were because people talk about them and I didn’t want to sound dumb.  Who’s dumb now, eh?  From hence forth when I write TED I want you to add “thanks to Ellie” so that she gets her due credit for mavening me in on this one.

For those of you not yet in the know (I’m a whole six hours more informed than you) TED talks are speeches by people who are experts in their fields.  There are TED conferences all over the world where smarty pants people speak to groups of other smarty pants people.  Listening to them makes you feel like you are surrounded by the good ideas you used to entertain when your brain was alive in college (or high school, if you went to Athenian.) 

TED stands for Technology Entertainment Design.  There are talks of all lengths and each one is amazing in their own special ways.  There’s an app for Iphones. 

Anyway, E took me on a tour of some good ones. 

Below is Sarah Kay.  I thought that spoken word poetry died in the late 90’s when I stopped going to SLAM poetry readings.  Apparently I just died at following it and it kept going.  Who knew?  When a tree falls in the forest it still makes sounds, even if I quit listening.  The world DOESN’T revolve around me. 

This piece is catnip.  Enjoy.  Text below.

 

Sarah Kay If I Should Have a Daughter

“If I should have a daughter…“Instead of “Mom”, she’s gonna call me “Point B.” Because that way, she knows that no matter what happens, at least she can always find her way to me. And I’m going to paint the solar system on the back of her hands so that she has to learn the entire universe before she can say “Oh, I know that like the back of my hand.”

She’s gonna learn that this life will hit you, hard, in the face, wait for you to get back up so it can kick you in the stomach. But getting the wind knocked out of you is the only way to remind your lungs how much they like the taste of air. There is hurt, here, that cannot be fixed by band-aids or poetry, so the first time she realizes that Wonder-woman isn’t coming, I’ll make sure she knows she doesn’t have to wear the cape all by herself. Because no matter how wide you stretch your fingers, your hands will always be too small to catch all the pain you want to heal. Believe me, I’ve tried.

And “Baby,” I’ll tell her “don’t keep your nose up in the air like that, I know that trick, you’re just smelling for smoke so you can follow the trail back to a burning house so you can find the boy who lost everything in the fire to see if you can save him. Or else, find the boy who lit the fire in the first place to see if you can change him.”

But I know that she will anyway, so instead I’ll always keep an extra supply of chocolate and rain boats nearby, ‘cause there is no heartbreak that chocolate can’t fix. Okay, there’s a few heartbreaks chocolate can’t fix. But that’s what the rain boots are for, because rain will wash away everything if you let it.

I want her to see the world through the underside of a glass bottom boat, to look through a magnifying glass at the galaxies that exist on the pin point of a human mind. Because that’s how my mom taught me. That there’ll be days like this, “There’ll be days like this my momma said” when you open your hands to catch and wind up with only blisters and bruises. When you step out of the phone booth and try to fly and the very people you wanna save are the ones standing on your cape. When your boots will fill with rain and you’ll be up to your knees in disappointment and those are the very days you have all the more reason to say “thank you,” ‘cause there is nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline no matter how many times it’s sent away.

You will put the “wind” in win some lose some, you will put the “star” in starting over and over, and no matter how many land mines erupt in a minute be sure your mind lands on the beauty of this funny place called life.

And yes, on a scale from one to over-trusting I am pretty damn naive but I want her to know that this world is made out of sugar. It can crumble so easily but don’t be afraid to stick your tongue out and taste it.

“Baby,” I’ll tell her “remember your mama is a worrier but your papa is a warrior and you are the girl with small hands and big eyes who never stops asking for more.”

Remember that good things come in threes and so do bad things and always apologize when you’ve done something wrong but don’t you ever apologize for the way your eyes refuse to stop shining.

Your voice is small but don’t ever stop singing and when they finally hand you heartbreak, slip hatred and war under your doorstep and hand you hand-outs on street corners of cynicism and defeat, you tell them that they really ought to meet your mother.”

 

 

And because I’m on the spoken word kick tonight, here’s my favorite Ani DiFranco:

“I am a work in progress
dressed in the fabric of a world unfolding
offering me intricate patterns of questions
rhythms that never come clean
and strengths that you still haven't seen”

“See, my body is borrowed
Yeah, I got it on loan
For the time in between my mom and some maggots
I don't need anyone to hold me
I can hold my own
I got highways for stretchmarks
See where I've grown”