an open letter to Sue Monk Kidd

Dear Sue Monk Kidd,

The universe is a mysterious wonder. My name is April and I am experiencing my own mid-life turning point; the point at which I can no longer sit idly while my life is lived without me as an active participant.

I write a blog and had been writing about how I am in a state of emotional diapauses, and using the images of cocoons and butterflies and the idea of my internal metamorphosis. My friend was taking a course and met a woman who recommended reading When the Heart Waits. She read it and was amazed at how similar your story was to what was going on in my own life.

She loaned me her book and I began to read it. And with each page turn I felt more and more connected to you. The images of butterflies, the symbol of the cocoon and how similar it is to my own inner journey … each page drew me closer.

I know that I must sound like a total nut. And I am sure that there are thousands of people who write to you and tell you that your words spoke to them. 

Today I read the story about when a bird flew into your window. When I was 10, a bird flew into our window. My teacher got the bird and put it in a shoe box until it was ready to fly again. He spoke to me about waiting and healing. He taught me that sometimes we have to just wait for something to happen, and although we may not have patience, that it was okay to not have things happen right away. That things like healing take time. 

Rather than continue to tell you about this strong connection I feel to your writing, I would like to share with you a story about another symbol of mine which is foxes. They seem to appear to me at important times in my life.

recently i have been dealing with what radical t calls "the childhood event." and as i work my way through this event, and my shame around it, i often wonder if i am just crazy, or if it was really my fault, or if i made the whole thing up in the first place. 

so i decided to take a leap of faith, an impulsive one actually, and i emailed one of the people who was around during "the childhood event" and i asked some questions that i needed answers to. 

i wasn't expecting a response. but i got one. 

i spoke my truth. and i was validated. and heard. and the validation made my wings grow a little bit. 

i feel lighter this morning. i feel unburdened. 

when i first met nosy nora (my therapist), she used to say that it was like someone else was living my life; like i wasn't participating in my own life. i feel like it is MY life now. 

sharing my story, speaking my truth, is freeing me from the heaviness that i carry around. 

so i decided that i wanted to share another story with you. another truth. because speaking my story makes me strong each day. 

this time it is about foxes. 

The summer I was 17, I was dating a woman who was 21. It was new and exciting and confusing. I was in the woods writing in my journal and thinking about my life and feeling confused. And I looked up and there was a fox staring at me. And I just knew that it was going to be ok.

Then in grade 12, I was on the bus going to school and I was thinking about school and feeling confused and unsure about my education choices and if I should think about changing high schools ... and a fox trotted down Bloor street! And again, I just knew.

There were a few other significant sightings over those few years. But the most significant was in relation to my best friend Gigi (who this blog is named after).

I was at her house and I told Gigi about the importance of foxes in my life. She teased me and said that squirrels were her special animal because she sees them all the time. I went home and as I walked in the door, the phone was ringing. It was Gigi. She said there was a fox in her backyard with a squirrel in its mouth.

We laughed and laughed.

And 2 days later, Gigi died.

A week after her death, I was at her house in her sister's room. Her Dad was in Gigi's room and he suddenly called out "hey, have you ever seen a fox?" Her sister knew the fox story so we looked at each other and our jaws dropped. We ran to the bedroom and her mom joined us there.

The 4 of us stood at the window, crying, holding each other and watching this fox who just sat in the yard staring back at us.

It was moving and healing and there are no words to describe it.

i continue to see foxes at significant moments in my life. most recently i saw a fully intact dead fox on the side of the road. i cried and cried and CRIED. and i emailed Gigi's sister and told her about it. her response was touching:

Maybe the penetrating gaze of that intact dead fox on the driver's side on the highway yesterday, was a mirror to you: not a message that doom and gloom awaits you, but that it's time for your soul to finally rise up from the damaged (metaphorical) carcass that houses it and become the most fully alive, most vibrant and whole vibrational entity that it can be. It's your time to become whole, April, that's what the dead fox symbolizes for me.

i like to think that she is right. that in order for me to morph into a butterfly from this diapause state that i am in, to become the most vibrant and whole entity that i can be, i need to continue to tell my story, to speak my truth, and to heal. 

I wanted to thank you for your book, for your wisdom, and for this strong connection that I feel with you because of our similar stories.

Thank you,

Yours Truly,

April

SMK

Last night, radical t and I went to hear Sue Monk Kidd (SMK) speak. 

It was marvelous. 

Difficult to pay attention at times because I had a letter for her in my bag. I was so nervous to give it to her. My heart was pounding and my palms were sweaty. Mostly because I didn't know what to say or how to say it. radical t said to rehearse in my head what i was going to say so that i didn't get tongue tied ... but i couldn't think of what the right words to say could possibly be! how do you say to a stranger that you feel an incredible connection to them because of their writing? 

to read more about my connection to SMK, click here. 

I will admit that at first I was uncomfortable as she spoke about her book whose main characters include an enslaved black girl in the 1800s in South Carolina. How could this white woman write in the voice of a black girl? Can you say cultural appropriation? 

But as her talk wound it's way through the story and through her personal narrative, and her reasons for writing this story ... it all fell into place. 

Growing up in pre-civil rights Georgia gave her a unique perspective. 

My favorite part of the night was when a man asked her if she had read Solomon Northup's memoir about his life in slavery. And SMK answered by saying yes, but then talked about Harriet Ann Jacob's book The Life of a Slave Girl. Brilliant. she took the question and reframed it through her own lens of feminism and the importance of contributions by women. genius. 

After her talk, we got in line to get our books signed. Not the book she was speaking about, but the book that we found inspiring. And I still didn't know what to say. When it was finally my turn and I was standing beside her, I decided to tell her that it felt like she had climbed in my head and wrote my story. She said "oh wow that's great." And I said "so I wrote you a letter" and handed her the envelope. She thanked me and put it aside. I couldn't think of anything else to say, so I walked away. 

I can't help but feel like it was a missed opportunity. I could have said so much... About butterflies and cocoons and personal transformation and my own emotional diapause ... But I suppose that's all in the letter and I just have to hope that she reads it. 

I believe that regret is a wasted emotion. And yet I can't help but regret not saying more to her. 

This is the book that touched me. 

And this is her signature beside the cocoon. 

transformation involves waiting. which is the hardest part. 

be kind to yourself. 

xoxo

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