None of these words are my own. In my head it reads somewhere between prose and slam poetry.

“How To Walk in My Shoes”
A collective poem

They are ugly shoes,
But comfortable
You skip walking and dance
Stepping in puddles by accident
And then jumping in them on purpose
An adventure…

Due to my set of stubby legs
It usually means you aren’t walking very fast

I still can’t figure out how to make heels look graceful
Presenting a pleasant demeanor
Amidst a barrage
Of stupidity
Tripping over the dog
Barefoot’s better.

The best stories start when my boots pass through the doors

Into places I can’t tell you about

I am a dad doing his best for his daughter
A daughter watching her mother slip away
Wade through the bullshit
Sacrifice
Sense of duty, holding lives in the palms of my hands
Caught in a Painful War, I’m Fighting.
A man who occasionally gives in,
May someday give out,
But who never gives up.
Constantly struggling to make people perceive me
The way I perceive myself,
Which is inaccurate

I am a walking contradiction
An optimist fighting a pessimist
While trying to find the right track to stick with -
Not all who wander are lost
It means consistency

A marathon or a mile
Are still accomplished one step at a time.

A woman with so many blessings
That even acknowledging the negatives,
Would seem to lessen them.
An imaginative hag who wants to be a Star.
Bette Midler,
Joan Rivers,
Barbara Stanwyk
Lots of edge
Slightly to the left,
Always with a smirk

I will feel what you feel
And honor the path you have taken
I’ve lived long enough
To value highly
All those things I mocked when I was young

Drop the L — I’m waking
Just waking the fuck up.

* * *

Thank you to everyone who shared their stories with me this week. This poem wouldn’t have been possible without you.

Kelsey

Here is a piece from Peri on that ever-elusive and ever-trendy topic: Authenticity.

“Once your learn how to fake sincerity, you’ve got it made.” Bob Hope

I’m going to take it as a basic premise that if you’re reading this post, you are probably someone who has learned how to get out of your comfort zone to learn new skills. And if you’re open to learning new ways of doing things, you are already an accidental master (mistress?) of one very important aspect of authenticity.

Here’s why: the part of you that learns is part of the “real” you. The part that is willing to give up your normal ego’s chatter (“does he like me? is this dress weird? Maybe I should move to Mexico and scuba dive…”), at least for the time it takes to learn the thing you’re trying to learn.

And why are we talking about authenticity here, anyway?

Because it’s powerful. It works. Oh boy, does it work. And oh boy, is it out of most of our comfort zones.

Authenticity is when you tell a universal truth in a way that is completely specific to you. Authenticity is when you decide that the things that maybe got you picked on in the sixth grade are the things that make you great. Authenticity is an existential decision — that is — something you decide to do because you’ve decided to do it. Okay, maybe Jean Paul Sartre didn’t put it that way, but as he’s both dead AND French I doubt if he cares.

If you’re speaking publicly, being completely real makes you charismatic beyond your wildest dreams. Truth is unpredictable, and if your audience senses you’re telling your unique truth, they will lean forward. And that’s what we want audience to do.

It’s common knowledge that stage actors hate to share the stage with children and animals. Why? Because kids and beasties act and react with 100% honesty. Therefore unpredictably. What human who’s speaking memorized lines can compete with that?

Takes some risks onstage. Depart for a minute from your written text.

I found my true onstage singing persona after being a good boring singer for ages, and one night I just started messing with both the music and my guitar player. I started making fun of the song, of his tie, of my dress — something snapped and I just wanted to have fun. That was my authenticity. We got a standing ovation. I WAS SO SHOCKED. I wound up having a pretty successful cabaret career, until one day my newfound addiction to inner truth pushed me to discover my psychic’s intuition…but that’s another story for another column.

Meanwhile, practice real authenticity. Say what you really think about that TV show everyone’s praising. Order a cannoli as your entree. Sing out loud in the park. Or just sit quietly and feel who you really are. Your audience will respond.

And that, my cherished ducklings, is the truth.

Peri Lyons // Intuitive Consulting // @perilyons // www.perilyonsintuitive.com

What is your voice?

My voice is just short of obnoxious

Because it goes on incessantly,

It gets quite close to slipping past that thin line but then miraculously

It gets less obnoxious until you realize

The reason why is because

It’s devolved into a droning that,

At the very least, is bearable, if not fully

Coherent

Or understandable.

The sound of laughter, song, empathy, dedication

And love.

The voice that says:

‘I’m not afraid to care, passionately.’

Struggling but hopeful.

I’m still looking for it.

..I don’t believe that, sister. Your voice is truth.

What do you mean you don’t believe it?

..I guess I feel that you know who you are!

Calculated openness.

Unless I fall asleep on your couch,

Then it’s real openness.

I am my voice.

After 50 years,

I finally embraced who I am to the core.

I can finally accept myself,

Warts and all.

My voice has 88 black and white keys

And can tell stories and make you laugh

And make you cry

And make you remember.

My voice is…

Rain hitting a tin roof on a hot, sunny day

While kids splash in puddles on a gravelly road.

Literally,

It’s always sounded like someone trying to jump start

A sixth year old lady’s voice,

But never quite getting there.

Less literally,

It’s one of those Twinkie-sized “water snakes”

From the impulse aisle of KB Toys.

When I hold it and see it,

It’s just barely there,

But then it squirt-jumps out of my hands and into

Somebody else’s

Personal space.

My voice is…

What the world hears when I hold space for myself

And allow my presence

To be impressed upon the world around me.

It’s what happens when I say to myself,

‘I am worthy of being seen’.

It’s the small and insignificant visual marks I make

For money or for myself.

It’s small, good actions and deeds

That are passed on and amplify through others.

It’s deep and sonorous after too little sleep

And capable of drowning willing listeners in honey.

Tight and tiny and twangy and invisible

At other times,

And makes me want to wring my own neck

To squeeze out something more

Resonant.

It’s where my thoughts and my feelings meet.

It’s the part of me that feels most urgent.

It’s the thing that connects me to others.

It’s what I want to give the world.

Listening and then trusting.

Listening to someone else and then listening to myself.

Listening is how I have found

My voice.