In the Circle of the Red Rug
Kitty Pechet’s story of transformation, Part 3
If you haven’t read the beginning of Kitty’s story, you can go to Part 1, It’s Never Too Late to Change, and Part 2, Proper Ladies Don’t Give TED Talks; you’ll get to know an amazing woman!
In my previous blog, I shared my amazement and disbelief that the folks at TEDxBeaconStreet believed I had something to offer, and the way their “You-Can-Do-It” energy helped me shift from resistant participant to someone excited to dare tell her story.
All their support and encouragement left me well prepared, but in the moments before the event, I realized how unprepared I felt on some other deeper, inner level. Could I really do this?
The volunteer crew greeted me and stayed by my side. They let me stand on stage as early arrivals started to pour in, to get the feel of it. They taught me breathing techniques to calm and center myself, as an unaccustomed mike was attached. No way could I anticipate my stage presence. Moments ticked down to seconds and soon I was out, bright lights in my eyes and an audience packed to the rafters.
I stepped onto the round red rug into a sphere of magical sharing. Eyes and smiles rode with me and fell with me through waves of life, surf, and art as I spoke. My daughter-in-law, who has since passed, laughed. My son rolled his eyes when I got to the part of my talk where I asked, “Why would I do something like this?” We all adventured together.
Always a silent loner with no voice but in paint, I connected with the audience and flew with the joy of them. The clicker in my hand gave me power. I shared visual after visual of my journey and art, in tune to the story I was telling. That clicker had become the symbol of freedom for me, out of the box I had lived in for so long and into a new Wonder Woman attitude.
A kind of magical oneness held the air, as though the theater created an expanded sphere from the red rug, textured with all the people — all of us — woven together. I was part of it — inside of it. As I swooped into the final slides, showing the way my art had expanded and grown as my surfing life exploded, I found myself cheering them on, in their own lives. Time held its breath.
I left the stage, shaken in the best possible way. It was finished. Somehow, somehow, with lots of help and lots of courage, I had done it. I had never thought about one single moment beyond the last line of my talk. So, you can imagine my surprise when one of the volunteers ran backstage to grab me, explaining that I had to come back out. All that screaming and cheering I was hearing out there was for me! I returned to the stage in a daze to discover a standing ovation. My brain stretched to incorporate this level of appreciation and connection.
In the hall, afterward, women stopped me, to thank me, to congratulate me, to let me know they had been touched. They spoke of parallel experiences and new courage.
While my memory clicks the events of this unforeseen adventure like a slide show, a new question slowly begins to appear on the horizon: Would I let MYSELF be touched by this profound experience? Would I dare to let my life be changed?
In my final blog, I will tell how I did.
