I Think It Was My Week
People often tell me I am an “inspiration.” It’s true. I have conquered incredible obstacles. When I hear it from people who don’t really know me, I am curious about what they are seeing from a limited perspective. I had three similar messages from two new acquaintances, and a follower here on Medium last week. It was the week of the Universe telling me I am an inspiration. I’m not sure what was special about last week, since I hear it so often. I’ve termed it “My week to be an inspiration.”
I attended a poetry reading on Wednesday as part of National Poetry Month where I read two of my poems:
The Small of My Back
The small of my back somehow harkens back to when I was a slim, lithe, graceful dancer.
It was slightly awkward for me to walk to the front of a room of about 20 strangers with my limp and my cane. I introduced myself by simply saying “My name is Victoria, and I had a stroke 20 years ago.” There was a palpable hush in the room, especially among the many senior citizens in attendance. I hung the cane on the mantel of the fireplace behind me. I fumbled with the anthology where the poems had been published. I clumsily unfolded the paper where my second poem had been printed. I knew I was drawing attention to the fact that my left hand is nearly useless, especially when I had to use my teeth at one point to help open the paper.
I am so accustomed to not using my left hand that I don’t realize how glaring the neglect looks to others. I read both poems with poise and confidence, pausing to make eye contact with the audience and smiling. I was surprised by my lack of nervousness. I think some of the applause at the end was for the simple fact that I stood up and read, but quite a few audience members approached me after the event to say how much they enjoyed my poems. One woman told me she was impressed by how “efficient” I am, and thought it was inspiring. She referred to my comments in the “Surrounded” piece about my disability and went on to say that while I may have limitations, I am obviously efficient in my movements.
At the conclusion of our program, a grandaughter of William Carlos Williams made a short presentation about the poet and his life. She read some of his poems. There was a statement made in one where he said a poem should tell the story of the writer’s life. I felt confident that my selections had done so.
I had published a story earlier in the week complaining about my disability. @Hawkeye Pete Egan B. commented “-the way you still manage to enjoy living and to find so many things to laugh about, and your level-headed, even-handed approach to life, is so inspirational.” These words fed my motivation and inspiration for writing.
At the end of the week, I attended my Wellness meeting where the subject of the workshop was finding ways to move more. When the facilitator asked the group “What is keeping you from moving more?” I thought I certainly had the perfect answer. I raised my hand, and said, “A movement disorder.”
Not one to let us use our stories as excuses, she called me on it, and said, “What can you do, and what do you do?”She knows I am an equestrian and wanted me to share it with the group. I replied, “I ride horses, I walk the dog, I swim in the summer, I follow some videos on t.v.” This sounded like a lot for someone with a movement disorder. The woman sitting next to me turned and said, “You do more than most people. I am so inspired by you.”
Thus concluded my week to get the message from the Universe that people are inspired by me.
Thank you for reading :)