“Suddenly at the next corner, came the craziest thing. About thirty women, all in golden crowns, were crossing Market Street. No, I wasn’t hallucinating, maybe they were heading to some trippy bridesmaid’s party. And there I was, utterly surrounded, crying and laughing in the midst of it all, as they passed by.”
~Tosha Silver — “On Crowns and Mars/Venus”
Yesterday morning Tosha Silver (whom I love), posted this and it prompted one of those out-of-body synchronistic moments; you know the ones where you shiver with goosebumps and break into a cold sweat all at the same time.
Or is that menopause? Nope. Sorry menopause you have never given me goosebumps. Not once, not EVER.
Besides, the serendipity lies in the fact that I had two really heartfelt and deeply intimate conversations with two completely different friends, at two separate times, in the past three days.
About friendship and CROWNS and feeling special.
“I’ve known I was special my whole life” we each confessed in a hushed whisper, as if admitting to a secret affair with Benedict Cumberbatch, or a third nipple.
One of my friends stands on the precipice of great success. Like change your life, slap your mama, kind of success. She confided that the other night she dreamt she was wearing a gold crown, or perhaps it was even (gasp) a halo…and the brightness of it made her so uncomfortable that she pulled up the hoodie she was so conveniently wearing—and covered it up.
Why? Why isn’t that a good thing? To feel special I mean.
Maybe the more important question we have to ask is this: Who killed this in us and why?
What is it with crowns anyway?
I suppose we’ve all agreed that they’re just a physical validation of how special someone is.
Gold and preferably jewel encrusted would suit me just fine, thank you very much.
Then we all laugh, hahaha, that’s so funny—wait, you know you’re not special—right? And just like the soup nazi in Seinfeld, someone shows up and yanks the crown right off of your head, bobby pins and all.
“NO crown for you!” He announces and the crowd applauds,”Who do you think you are? Show some humility!” they all chant.
Here’s the thing: I don’t think the three of us can stay covered very much longer. We seem to have all reached a place in our lives where we are being asked to remove the hoodie and shine!
To spit polish the crown and wear it.
Everyday.
Even with yoga pants. Especially with yoga pants!
We’re called to OWN OUR HALO.
And I know in my kishkis we are not alone.
I’ve seen you in your hoodies, walkin’ around thinkin’ I can’t see the glow underneath. But I can.
We’ll lose friends over it, sure. Family too. Maybe even mates. But that’s old news, it’s already happening.
And just like Tosha asks in the rest of her essay, are you ready to “Own your OWN worthiness, own your own divinity, crown YOURSELF. No one else can do it, no partner, no friend, no teacher. NO one.” Well…are you?
I love that there are a group of us women (& men), at this time in history, that are coming into our own. I love that we are pulling down our hoodies, and shining brightly for all to behold.
You are special too—make no mistake about that! So…are you ready to crown yourselves?
Much love and carry on,
xox
http://toshasilver.com
