It All Started with Polka Dotted Socks by Liz Geyer

Who would have thought that this life would really begin its trajectory because of a pair of polka dotted socks? In the 1960’s, life as a child was about fitting in, being like everyone else, not standing out, being seen and not heard, blah, blah.  I am so grateful to my mother, who adopted me, because she walked a fine line between being the same as everyone else, and daring to be different.  And that has made all the difference as I have made my way through life.  Because of those beautiful red socks with black polka dots that I so coveted in second grade, I began to awaken to knowing that being different wasn’t easy, yet it was magic.

What was your opening to the magic of knowing what was yours to do, be, and have?  Did it happen through a painful experience such as the socks, or did it happen because perhaps someone saw your light and let you know in a positive way that you were pretty cool?  I remember as clearly as if it were yesterday.  A girl pointed at my socks that I was wearing with a blue jumper and white shirt, and told me the socks were really ugly.  I was devastated.  I thought they were the most amazing socks on the planet because they had a design and weren’t just one color.  What a gift this was for me…to see already at age 7,that color in the world, and being different was amazing?  I remember sitting outside the classroom after the rebuff, and cooling my cheeks, looking out at the playground and questioning life so deeply at that moment.  I asked aloud, “Why is it so bad to be different?”  I did get an answer that day.  The voice inside my mind told me I had come here for a specific purpose, and that those socks WERE the best thing on the planet, and not to mind the girl making the comment.  So I tucked away the phrase that I was here for a specific purpose, and have used the experience ever since as my true awakening as a child.

I am certain we all could share childhood stories about experiences in this lifetime that were bound and determined to force us to stay in alignment with separation.  As my childhood continued, I fought many similar notions with clothes I wore, things I said to others, holding my personality back from others to remain a mystery, sometimes to those closest to me.

Why am I bringing this simple story up now?  I believe it is because I continue to sift back through this lifetime to pull up those memories of when I was aware that I was someone or something other than human, learning to be human, to be grateful for having markers to show me the way…show my true path to me in the moments when I forgot.  I am reading a series about fairy tales in the modern day world, where the fairy godmother placed memories in a bubble to store for when they might be needed.  This is what I feel has happened with my own memories of awakening.  I have several specific ones that I love to pull up out of the mass of bubbled memories to play over and over.  Another memory I love to play is one when I was about two years old, in my crib in the bedroom I shared with my brother.  I remember talking to him, and having a conversation like we were adults!  We were giggling so loudly that my mom came in and told us to be quiet. When I think back to this experience, I am blown away that we conversed like adults at these young ages.  We were one being to another, adults in these tiny bodies, sharing a moment…in another realm.

In these times, when we are hanging onto life by our fingernails, take some time to go back to rejoice in those moments when you knew your differences were a gift.  The joy that comes from these experiences lightens our days, and helps us hang on just a bit tighter, knowing it has all been so worth the struggle!