Thursday, December 14, 2006 at 12:12am
Gifts from the universe
Column: Our Place in the Universe
When I was a little girl, we would have bazaars at our church at Christmastime. One year I remember clearly. Each one of my brothers and sisters and I got a dollar. Every game cost 10 cents to play. That gave us 10 chances to win a prize. There were many booths, each with a big wheel that the concessionaire would spin, and prizes that ranged from whistles to large stuffed bears. The front of the booth consisted of a row of numbers or pictures that you would put your dime on. If the wheel stopped on your number, you won!
My younger brother, Frank, was the lucky one in our family. He would win a prize every year. He bravely took each dime, and 10 times held his breath as the wheels turned and the clackers clicked and the other children cheered loudly for what they hoped would be the winning number.
I couldn't do it. After one or two of my dimes were offered up to the wheels of fortune, my nerves would be shot, and I'd use the rest of the dimes to buy grab bags. At least that way I got to bring home something, even if it was the same pearl necklace in each bag — even if the necklaces would fall apart after a day or two.
And telephones! Telephones were worse than bazaars. One never knows who will answer the phone; the anticipation was agonizing for me. Invariably the person who answered would turn out to be the person I was politely asking to speak to, and I would feel like a fool for not having guessed correctly.
Christmastime especially was fraught with anxiety. One year (and this will give away my age!) my father presented a tape recorder to my mom. It was the size of a small TV and had two reels for the tape and a large microphone to speak into. Of course, with so many kids (at that time there were about seven of us), we needed to be recorded for posterity. From that Christmas on we were "forced" to sing and perform for the machine. Oh, more pressure, more anxiety from waiting, and from dreading the day.
Finally, I had enough. After praying to no avail to St. Dymphna, the patron saint of nervous disorders (and I did a lot of research to find just the right saint), I decided to take matters into my own hands. I joined the oratory club! I was in eighth grade and 12 years old. Every Friday we would have to give a speech to the class. By Thursday night my cuticles were a mess. I never bit my nails, but I would pick at my fingers until they bled.
I never gave up. I never stopped being nervous either. For a year I would react irrationally if anyone ever said, "Thank God it's Friday!" At the end of the year the entire club entered a regional speech contest at a local high school. I still remember that day. I still remember that speech: "It's a woman's world, or at least that's what they would have us believe!" We were split up into groups of six, and I got to go first.
I didn't have a clue what to do or how to do it. I don't remember being given any pointers. There was a lectern to the side, so I just figured it was for me to use. I was the only one to use it. I remember that first sentence coming out and then nothing until I was sitting down again listening to the others. I came in sixth out of six.
The girl who was first in our room ended up winning the competition. She also ended up going to the same high school as I did and becoming one of my best friends. Well, if you can't be No. 1, be friends with the one who is! I think it was at that point that I began realizing that it was OK to be nervous, to not have the natural ability to get up in front of everyone and speak, or to not be a leader.
In high school I realized that I had a unique ability to be friends with many kinds of people, and that I liked supporting rather than leading. I didn't realize until later that I didn't need to overcome my limitations. Just the fact that I challenged them, and wasn't content to let them define me, was enough.
I still hate calling people on the telephone. I still have a hard time speaking publicly. But during this time of gift giving I will always remember those challenging times, for without them I wouldn't have been able to see clearly the gifts that were given to me by the Heart of the Universe.
— — —
Anne E. Ulvestad is a free-lance writer residing in Maryland. She has her master's in earth literacy, and is available for public lectures, group presentations and rituals on Spirituality and the Environment. Anne can be reached at {email anne@ourplaceintheuniverse.com}anne@ourplaceintheuniverse.com{/email}. © copyright 2006 by Anne E. Ulvestad
My younger brother, Frank, was the lucky one in our family. He would win a prize every year. He bravely took each dime, and 10 times held his breath as the wheels turned and the clackers clicked and the other children cheered loudly for what they hoped would be the winning number.
I couldn't do it. After one or two of my dimes were offered up to the wheels of fortune, my nerves would be shot, and I'd use the rest of the dimes to buy grab bags. At least that way I got to bring home something, even if it was the same pearl necklace in each bag — even if the necklaces would fall apart after a day or two.
And telephones! Telephones were worse than bazaars. One never knows who will answer the phone; the anticipation was agonizing for me. Invariably the person who answered would turn out to be the person I was politely asking to speak to, and I would feel like a fool for not having guessed correctly.
Christmastime especially was fraught with anxiety. One year (and this will give away my age!) my father presented a tape recorder to my mom. It was the size of a small TV and had two reels for the tape and a large microphone to speak into. Of course, with so many kids (at that time there were about seven of us), we needed to be recorded for posterity. From that Christmas on we were "forced" to sing and perform for the machine. Oh, more pressure, more anxiety from waiting, and from dreading the day.
Finally, I had enough. After praying to no avail to St. Dymphna, the patron saint of nervous disorders (and I did a lot of research to find just the right saint), I decided to take matters into my own hands. I joined the oratory club! I was in eighth grade and 12 years old. Every Friday we would have to give a speech to the class. By Thursday night my cuticles were a mess. I never bit my nails, but I would pick at my fingers until they bled.
I never gave up. I never stopped being nervous either. For a year I would react irrationally if anyone ever said, "Thank God it's Friday!" At the end of the year the entire club entered a regional speech contest at a local high school. I still remember that day. I still remember that speech: "It's a woman's world, or at least that's what they would have us believe!" We were split up into groups of six, and I got to go first.
I didn't have a clue what to do or how to do it. I don't remember being given any pointers. There was a lectern to the side, so I just figured it was for me to use. I was the only one to use it. I remember that first sentence coming out and then nothing until I was sitting down again listening to the others. I came in sixth out of six.
The girl who was first in our room ended up winning the competition. She also ended up going to the same high school as I did and becoming one of my best friends. Well, if you can't be No. 1, be friends with the one who is! I think it was at that point that I began realizing that it was OK to be nervous, to not have the natural ability to get up in front of everyone and speak, or to not be a leader.
In high school I realized that I had a unique ability to be friends with many kinds of people, and that I liked supporting rather than leading. I didn't realize until later that I didn't need to overcome my limitations. Just the fact that I challenged them, and wasn't content to let them define me, was enough.
I still hate calling people on the telephone. I still have a hard time speaking publicly. But during this time of gift giving I will always remember those challenging times, for without them I wouldn't have been able to see clearly the gifts that were given to me by the Heart of the Universe.
— — —
Anne E. Ulvestad is a free-lance writer residing in Maryland. She has her master's in earth literacy, and is available for public lectures, group presentations and rituals on Spirituality and the Environment. Anne can be reached at {email anne@ourplaceintheuniverse.com}anne@ourplaceintheuniverse.com{/email}. © copyright 2006 by Anne E. Ulvestad