Look, I’m Naked!

Go ahead and stare.

The stage is set in Chicago, and I’m about to head up there.

What’s your biggest fear? Public speaking? Heights? Spiders? How about reading your original poem on stage in front of 300 strangers? Yep — that’s what I chose to do. Twice.

I’m a big proponent of saying yes to challenges and to unexpected offers. Take a risk. Be bold. Grab fearlessness by the neck and gently rattle it.

So, that’s what I did a couple weeks ago. For the second time in just six months, I accepted an invitation from Art Speaks, a signature event series, to interpret an artist’s painting through a short story or poem.

The first time, I had no idea what to expect. I just knew a handful of writers would receive an image of an unknown artist’s work and interpret it through their words. I showed up at the beautiful Stan Mansion in Chicago, walked on stage and read a poem in front of 300 people.

Sounds dreamy, right? It actually was. I was so inspired and so grateful that I discovered the courage to say yes to the opportunity.

The first exposure: reading my poem in front of 300 strangers.

Last month, when I received a second invitation to participate, I immediately accepted. This time, I decided, I was going to strip down even further. Instead of writing a poem (which is familiar to me), I was going to challenge myself with a short story.

Why not write one of my first short stories ever, climb up on stage and read it in front of a room full of mostly strangers? Sounds like a great idea.

Stripping Down in Your 50s

As we get older, the fear of looking foolish may be greater. We understand more. We aren’t as idealistic. We know who we are and don’t often feel the push to step outside of our comfortable spaces.

We may even be more critical of ourselves, which is precisely why we should say yes to more challenges. We need the reminders that we are still awesome, evolving, inspiring beings. Challenge accepted. Let’s get on stage and go!

So, I did. I surrounded myself by other artists who similarly put it on display. I showed up at an unfamiliar art gallery in Chicago’s artsy Logan Square neighborhood. Surrounded by talent and a sea of collective vulnerability, I quickly felt at ease. From a painter’s nude self portrait to a poet’s passionate piece about society’s inequities, we all exposed ourselves at this event.

It actually felt great. I was so proud of myself for taking on layers of challenges — from writing a short story based on a beautiful, colorful painting to standing proudly on stage as I shared it. Something in me shattered, but not in a bad way. It was the transformation of this safe 54-year-old identity. It was the fragmenting of the comfortable patterns I weave in and out of each day. It was the release of the tales I continually tell myself.

Standing beside the painting I was about to interpret

 

Go Ahead and Judge Me

Looking out from the stage was an awakening. I saw attentive faces, growing smiles and even some escaping tears. I saw my talents and growing ability to empathize with others. I saw, maybe most importantly, my desire to connect with myself.

There’s that self in me that is fearless and hungry to grow. It often is met with those voices though: “You’re too old … play it safe … be more private … don’t put yourself in front of the judgers.”

But, I want to put myself in front of them — on the stage, on Instagram, at social gatherings. Here I am. Now I’m on a roll.

I’ve been writing for decades about life, balance, relationships, love and meaning. I’ve done a bit of coaching along the way, and I’ve realized how much I enjoy doing that. While writing has been the safe bet, I am taking a leap. I’m officially launching my coaching business with an emphasis on helping people get out of the dating rut and into the relationships they desire.

What’s interesting is this feeling I’m naked again. I’m picturing the online marketing campaign I’m about to launch and wondering how my friends and peers will perceive my new endeavor. “Amy’s a dating coach? I thought she was a writer. Did you see the reel she created of herself dancing around her house?”

As those non-existing future thoughts of others invade my mind space, I tell myself a different story. I envision the positive thoughts my new path may ignite: “Amy’s got the perfect background and attitude to be a dating coach. Maybe I’m not too old to write that screenplay I’ve been talking about for years. I think it’s time I take some risks in my life, too.”

As the potential reactions dance around my mind, I am also vacillating between complete self-assuredness and lingering doubt. But the former is winning. That confidence is turning into excitement.

I’m taking that next step as another item of clothing is shed from my body. I will stand naked before you, but now I know the truth: No one is really staring that intently. At least, they’re not looking directly at me. They are looking at their own selves. Their own lives. Their own challenges, goals, dreams and fears.

So, I do this for me while I also do it for you. I take on the next challenge and hope it inspires you to strip down, as well. I hope it encourages you to say yes. I hope it stirs that fearless spirit within you and reminds you today is all we have, so let’s go after it will full abandon.

Who’s ready to be susceptible to judgment? Who’s ready to do whatever scares them the most? Who’s ready to get naked and see what awaits?

If you’re interested, here’s the short story I wrote and shared, based on the painting pictured below.

Painting by Oscar Martinez

 

The Dance of the Trees by Amy Lee Kite

As I stood in line waiting for my cup of tea, I tried to ignore the noise. At one table, two young kids were captivated by an iPad as their mom scrolled aimlessly through Instagram. Behind me, a man stood a bit too close as he tapped loudly on his phone.

Not wanting to be a part of the surrounding distraction, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. When I opened my eyes, I stepped forward robotically and reviewed my order in my head.

“Good morning,” I said with maybe a bit too much exuberance. I was trying to be present and grateful for this moment. Right here. Right now. Another deep breath. “May I please have a chai tea latte with almond milk?” A busied young woman with her smile buried somewhere far away flatly said, “hot or cold.”

“Oh, hot please,” I said as my smile attempted to magnetically draw hers out … with no luck.

When I stepped outside and took a sip, I noticed the clouds in the sky. They looked like artwork today. I gazed at them in admiration as I walked toward my car.

This brief respite was spoiled by the sound of a horn. “Look where you’re going,” some angry older man spit out as he quickly sped away.

And there it was. That final push. The concrete buildings, the dizzying sounds and the preoccupied people all felt like desperate characters in a tragic play.

I tossed my drink in the garbage, left my car in the crowded lot and moved melodically in tandem with the billowy clouds. I didn’t know where I was going, but I knew I was headed in the right direction.

A soundless voice beckoned me. I heard nothing aside from my own breath. Soon, there were no people or homes or streets or honking cars or senseless habits. Instead there was a forest surrounding me. The sunlight highlighted all of its beauty, as if it was in charge of set design for Broadway’s much-anticipated opening night.

A lyrical mantra began to play in my mind — words strung together in a voice I did not recognize. That melodic sound beckoned me to travel deeper into nature’s radiance.

“Run, free, you are one with the trees!

Close your eyes, feel the breeze.

Be. Free. Be. Here with me.

Be. Amongst the leaves.”

Shades of yellow, green, red, blue — the colors carried me deeper, lifting me toward the branches. The leaves came together with a symphonic spirit, as if a great orchestra conductor was passionately dictating their movement. They carried me as if I, too, was weightless. I fell beside another whose long hair was tangled artfully with actual sunbeams.

I let the forest blanket me. My trust ran as deep as the roots of these weighty trees. I’ve never felt more grounded.

My body rocked gently, like a newborn cradled in its mother’s arms. A sweet humming sound lulled me toward sleep. Was that the wind? The birds? The squirrels darting around me?

The stream below reverberated the now-familiar words that danced in my mind — in that unfamiliar, angelic voice:

“Run, free, you are one with the trees!

Close your eyes, feel the breeze.

Be. Free. Be. Here with me.

Be. Amongst the leaves.”

I fell to my knees … I was home. I was at ease. I was home, I was blanketed in leaves. I was finally home. I was one with the trees.