She enters the room; all oxygen dissipates. Both men and women loose rhythm in their speech. Her simple poise enervates each man’s strength. As she steps the room opens wide expanding to embrace her presence; the light follows eager to become part of her retinue. The strength of her confidence causes females to fidget and their eyes fall to their frippery checking each fold that it’s in proper place. Everything about her breathes life; each person compelled to look to receive breath. Her eyes are magnetic; her body voracious. Captured by her entrance, she picks and chooses those who are loosed. Only choosing to release those she doesn’t want to consume. They call it “Beasting.”

Have you seen this happen? Do you cause this kind of stir when you come on the scene? I’ve seen women do it. I’ve seen men do it. Mmm… the Champ* did it when he stepped off the escalator – ooh-wee. Ok, I’m back now… I’m straight. Vocalist, Jill Scott comes to mind… “You busy comparin’ me, like I need comparison – How you gonna f.ck with this, can’t live in the air I’m in.” When you get captured by their presence, you have to tell yourself to “Just Breathe.”

Let’s flip this a little, so you meet the “perfect” person. They’ve got that resume – spirituality, personality, mental stability, finances in order AND that bangin’ body designed just for you. So, what’s the problem? They have no presence. Not only do they have no presence, but they got a messed up presence. When they walk into the room, everyone checks them out and surmises… nice outfit. There’s no beasting, nothing resonates success or confidence. When they step the room moans as they waddle slew-footed through to join their group. You’ve seen the women. Dress fittin’, hair laid, but when she transcends the stairs she walks with her knees wide open like she’s chewing beef jerky with her mouth open. The men – just plain swaggaless. He thinks he’s walking with that bass line like you hear from the classic Roland 808. But he really needs a sip of WildFire’s scotch to calm his nerves because it appears that those thread-bare holey draws have allowed one ball to create its own rhythm in his walk.

So, what do you do? Do they make the team anyway? They got all the other qualities you’re looking for. Do you attempt to coach? What do you say to them? Or have you coached in the past? What happened? Did they take your lesson and move on to greener pastures?

So let’s rewrite this a little…

She enters the room; all oxygen dissipates. Both men and women loose rhythm in their speech. Her simple poise enervates each man’s strength. As she steps the room opens wide expanding to embrace her presence; the light follows eager to become part of her retinue. The strength of her confidence causes females to fidget and their eyes fall to their frippery checking each fold that it’s in proper place. Everything about her breathes life; each person compelled to look to receive breath. Her eyes are magnetic… and kind; she sweetly smiles engaging everyone with authenticity. She puts all at ease. She’s the essence of woman.

What cues you to know that it’s real self-confidence and not just a show? I asked this question months ago. Now I find myself expanding these thoughts because of a recent conversation with photographer Valencio (www.valenciophoto.com). After reading “the essence of woman” version, Valencio stated, “for some reason I think this is about you, and if its not it should be.” I had to admit to him that I’ve been both of these women. Why do I say that and why do I refer to them as separate? Well, I think of them, these two women as being worlds apart. My thoughts behind this statement and my comments to Valencio…

When I wrote the first version I pulled it from my youthful experiences as I often do in my writing. I wrote it with a vagueness, allowing the reader to draw their own conclusion. “Is she confident or not?” Since I’m now telling you this is my story and not just a picturesque passage from my imagination, I share with you that I thought “confidence” as I entered the room, and I also felt as though I were a victim to the stares. A confident victim. I released some people and held others. I needed that control. I would describe it as youthful confidence laced heavily with fear. Haha ha… for those of you who understand “ego” and “fear” I’m just messing with those that don’t. Confident, but fearful of other’s stares… umm that would be known as insecurity.

It’s been some time since I identified with this woman. I could pull from this place… this place of distorted victimization, fear and even pain at times, but it was never me. It was the facade that I painted to protect my ego. Those who know me, know the kindness in my eyes, know the sweetness of my smile, they feel the gentleness of my heart. There is no need for me to inflate myself. I’m no better… I’m no worse… than anyone. No need for exaggerated confidence. I simply am.

Much Love,
~ Melanie

© Primary Thoughts, Inc. 2009

www.primarythoughts.net

* Champ is a person’s nickname.