The Glow Mojo

The "glow people," the ones who beam their way through life lightly touching the earth, seem to know how to wear their gifts like a feather-handed stroke of blush.  Natural, healthy, and appealing.  When luminaries are interviewed about their success, they invariably reply, "I just had to do what I do. I couldn't have been or done anything else." So why is it that most of the human race never felt like we "just had to" do something significant? The only activities I ever “just had to” do typically involved overindulgence in something rich and gooey or started with kissing rather than contributions to humanity. And yet I believe that every one of us is born with gifts, and  most of our joys and struggles in life involve discovering them, wrestling with them, denying them, embracing them, muffling them, profiting from them, flaunting them, and suffering from them, all to varying mixed-up degrees.

Our parents had the unique opportunity to help us understand and nurture our gifts, but my personal experience as a parent leads me to believe that most of us are struggling so hard to provide for our families that we don't have as much left over for encouraging our children as we would like. Every time I do something painfully inept or regrettable as a mother, I drop a dollar in the Therapy Jar.  Some quaint (read: "Good Mom") homes have a Cookie Jar; my post-modern-anxiety-ridden home has a Therapy Jar.  It doesn't absolve me from trying to be a constructive parent, but I fully accept that professional remediation will, ultimately, be a healthy part of our parent-child relationship.  I hope I can contribute to establishing a sound foundation for my son, but a perceptive therapist financed by “The Jar” may help him mortar the inevitable cracks.

It's not fair to put all the blame on parents for gifts untended. We all have parents and we all have to survive them – including the glow people, many of whom actually seem to benefit from the challenges of less than ideal parents.  The trick for the rest of us is how to find our glow and keep it lit. Our puritanical American roots seem to discourage us from openly acknowledging or promoting our gifts and talents.  So how do we claim them and spend our precious few years on earth enjoying and sharing them instead of hiding them? I say start small -- fan a tiny ember.  Just whisper something kind about yourself to yourself.  If you can't say "I'm really good at...", then at least try "I really like to...".  Still struggling?  How about "I used to really like to…"?   There's a spark.

Or try displaying some low-risk asset and practice glowing with it.  To demonstrate (and spite those Puritans), I'll come out of the Closet of Tiny Talents right here and now.  I have a rather trivial yet desirable gift: I have a keen ability to find an amazing parking space in unlikely circumstances.  My passengers know me as "The Parking Genie." For example, I can pull up to the most parking-impaired Starbucks (that has no drive-through) at 3pm, the universal hour of post-carpool caffeine desperation, and reliably manifest a parking space just steps away from the entrance. It's not luck, because it's freakishly consistent.  I've actually honed it to be more than a gift -- it's more like a spiritual practice.  A kind of Parking Pilates.  But whatever it is, I have tapped it, claimed it, and made it mine.  I think of it as practicing "detached intention."   I take a calming breath and offer a tiny prayer: "Wouldn't it be nice to find a great parking space?" And then… a gap appears, I smile knowingly and glide the mom-mobile into parking nirvana.

And on the odd day that my mojo isn't working, well, that's where the detachment comes in, the "wouldn't it be nice" part.  I don't beg the heavens for a space and I don't demand one.   If I don't get one, I just see it as a cosmic suggestion not to drop $4.00 on a latte or as a heavenly hint to park a little further, hoof it and get some exercise.  But if I'm raging inside about how I'll never find a space or cursing our town's urban planners for prizing streetscape over convenience, then I absolutely will NOT find a space, guaranteed.  Yet 99 times out of 100, it works. Oh, I could tell you stories about finding astounding parking spaces!  Less than a block away from the pool during a crowded swim meet, primo spaces during Christmas shopping seasons, downtown street parking for a crowded lecture event.  Some people revel in recalling peak experiences like seeing the Grateful Dead live, surviving wild outdoor adventures, or savoring fine wines, but for me, it's parking.  If I were a scrapbooker, I'd carry a camera at all times to record those perfect moments between the lines (with bonus points for free time on the meter).  And though the joy of parking is fleeting, I do delight in knowing that surrendering my space passes that little high along to the next occupant.    If you see someone glowing as she parks, it's probably me.  What has really surprised me is that the glow itself feels even better than the perfect parking space. Now that my inner pyromaniac has been unleashed, surely "just had to" can't be far off.

~Laurie Foley

Laurie Foley practices her parking mojo in Decatur, GA. She is a previous contributor to Skirt!.