A Soul That Has Been Refreshed

By Individuals Who Dropped In Just When Needed

Migrating Above the Surface, monotype created by Michelle Lindblom

When I was younger, maybe four through first or second grade, I remember easily making friends—playing outside with the neighborhood kids, riding bikes, and swinging on the school ground swings or in someone’s backyard. Life seemed grand because it was less complicated, and we could meander within a several-block radius without human helicopters hovering above.

Recess at school was not a drama fest, although it was segregated, with boys doing boy stuff and girls doing girl stuff. It was the 1960s Midwest, after all. Everyone knew their place, and no one was the wiser at that age.

I don’t know what triggered my inability to deal with more than a few acquaintances at once. It may have started in 2nd grade when Ms. Froemming constantly reprimanded me for my wayward daydreaming. She was mean-spirited and not happy with her lot in life, so she would take it out on the little people in her classroom.

As a left-handed female, I was on her naughty and “outside the norm” list. I put her in an awkward position when it was time to teach me how to write cursive (among other things right-handers could easily manage). I worked as independently as possible for a 2nd grader and learned to write beautifully despite being labeled wrong-handed. But I felt singled out.

Ms. Froemming bullied me into a kind of self-imposed submission. And because I was taught to respect the adults in the room, my fear of rejection drove my behavior. I began to operate in shutdown mode. My value as a little person was questioned, thus diminishing my already below-sea-level confidence.

Fast forward to 6th grade, my female (and some male) classmates teased me for being flat as a pancake and asked how dare I wear a “training bra” when I had nothing to fill it. Yes, training bras, a stupid concept pushed by the marketing industry to make young girls feel as though they were becoming women WAY before it was necessary.

What were we training our non-breasts to do? Did those marketing geniuses feel females needed to be trained to tame, cover, and constrain our bodies to fit a lifetime of societal expectations? That indoctrination began early, and many fell for it.

As an ultra-sensitive young female, trusting anyone was difficult and excruciating. There were instances when people failed me, and I did little to speak up for myself. Instinctively, I knew of my courageous tendencies, but acting on them publicly eluded me.

However, a unique transformation occurred during college when I naturally and unintentionally took on the role of sounding board for many of the people I met. They sensed my unusual vibration and were drawn in, revealing themselves to me without asking.

That unusual vibration is probably attributed to my Midwestern sensibilities, which are difficult to ignore if someone needs to connect. I’ve embraced these characteristics with some trepidation. Listening to others and offering advice, if asked for, can put undue responsibility on a person. Not to mention, I rarely trusted anyone to do the same for me.

Looking back, my personality was, at times, aloof and undoubtedly private. It was hard to get to know me. In some ways, my modus operandi to keep a low profile in public could be attributed to Ms. Froemming's hand in second grade.

Why would anyone waste their time getting to know a wallflower? What would they receive from me in return? These silly ruminations and questions rumbled in my psyche for years.

The universe gives us what we need as long as we recognize opportunities when they are revealed to us. For example, when individuals show up in your life and profoundly touch your soul, it sometimes happens slowly and steadily; other times, it hits you like a swift jolt to your psyche. They can reach into your psyche without force. It is as natural as can be because you allow it to be.

When I first moved to Oregon, I met a woman who seemed so different than me, but we connected in a magical way because of those differences. She was indeed a gift that dropped into my orbit. A couple of years ago, she moved across the country. I was over the moon happy for her, but it was terribly bittersweet. My heart ached when I would drive past the street I used to turn on to get to her place. I missed her voice, presence, and uncanny ability to see me and know what was essential at any given time. I miss her, but I’m comforted by all she and I shared while she was physically in the same town. None of that can ever be taken away.

Another beautiful soul that came into my life was initially in a vulnerable state of mind. Her past was a heavy weight, and she wanted to free herself from those chains. For the past few years, her journey has been to seek the unknown and find her authentic and creative self. The self that had been hidden under blankets of cultural expectations and not feeling valued. I consider her the shaman of the women who have touched my soul in recent years. She listens with intent and responds with questions, not answers, always assisting others in seeking what they may be looking for. She continues to wander the world, filling her cup with the beauty she finds along her journey and frequently sharing what she has discovered. Her neverending wisdom sustains those of us who know her.

An equally special friend I met in the past eight years entered my sphere as someone craving creativity and a desire to leave her structured life behind. Part of our connection was because of our creative spirits. She saw in me, as an artist, what she was missing. I saw in her a creative spirit that I needed to rekindle within myself as I faced my own struggles. The work she has been doing to connect with her inner being has been a wonder to witness. She seeks experiences that excite her curiosity and love of what she is becoming as an artist. Her enthusiasm invariably ignites my artistic soul whenever we discuss her newest discoveries and adventures.

Several years back, I met a fellow artist, writer, and academic originally from the Midwest who initially appeared timid, even aloof, but approachable. His intriguing background and ability to engage in sometimes deep, but always witty conversations renewed my energy as we got to know each other. I felt respected and valued—something that has often been a struggle for me where males are concerned. Being able to intellectually and humorously converse with a male colleague on this level was/is exhilarating. He has also recently moved across the country, and I miss our animated and thought-provoking interactions.

Another individual who touched my soul but in a different manner is a woman who figuratively adopted me as I’m close to the same age as her son. But also as fellow Aries, we connected naturally through our fiery, confident, and energetic personalities. She always says what is on her mind with compassion and grace. Through her, I have learned to accept some of life’s nuances more gracefully. She is of the same generation as my mother and is full of the same kind of wisdom that comes with a life lived well and hard-fought. She has filled a void my mother could not accommodate since I have been in Oregon.

These individuals are rare; I’m grateful to have trusted my instincts with each of them. I am paying tribute to these beautiful people because I, too, will be moving from this place, seeking my own adventure. They have made this stop along my journey one that has refreshed my soul and filled me up for the next leg.

Michelle Lindblom