"quiet music, and patient mouths"

Dear friends,

When I was six years old, my first grade teacher asked us to write the words, “I’m proud of myself for…” and finish the sentence. I wrote the word “no thing” then erased it and wrote “NOTHING.” Pobrecita! Nothing?!

That was honest. I didn’t discover pride in myself for another 20 years or so. There was mostly a deep watercolor wash of shame and confusion, even while winning awards or doing human rights work. I hadn’t learned pride yet. Each foray felt like running out of a dark room into bright light then running back into the dark.

I do feel proud of myself now. I feel proud that I’ve raised many dollars for unhoused people by storytelling. I’m proud that I’ve grown in therapy for 20 years. I think I make a pretty solid friend. I’m proud I’ve found a way to live as a working writer, coach and activist, following my heart and taking risks. You’re part of that, my dear reader, and I’m grateful to you!

When I ask my coaching clients what they’re proud of from the past week, it often stumps them. But in the light of warm positive regard, pride comes sidling in. The big or little things they’ve done arise in memory, with a sensation of having made progress.

Now I ask you, What are you proud of from the past week? From the last year? From your life as a whole? What makes your flame burn bright, bright? Feel free to write or draw about it and tell us in the comments.

xoxo,

Abriel

Josef Gabriel Frey, Phenomenon Over and Under the Earth, 1878

This gouache painting was made when Frey was 88 years old, showing a moonbow ("Mond Regenbogen"). I hope he was proud!