Today is the birthday of the woman who taught me to be
brave.
That’s not to say she’s not FEARFUL. No, Rachel Elizabeth’s
fears include, but are certainly not limited to:
- Alopecia
-
Old ladies with long hair
-
Black dogs with red eyes
-
Scallops
-
Snakes
-
Angelina Jolie
-
Infertility
-
The Slide at Blizzard Beach
-
ChaCha the Celebrity
-
Skeletal models (because she believes they come
to life when no one is looking. “If no one is looking…what does it matter?” I
guess she’s got a slight prejudice against their unknown intentions. Maybe she
thinks they want our skin. I haven’t really probed too deeply on this one).
And so on. I believe 75% of Rachel’s soul is constantly
doing an interpretive, yogi dance to James Taylor’s “Shower the People” in an
incense-filled room while 25% of her crouches like a tiny gargoyle, perched on
some high lookout yelling things like “Jesus, Rachel! Watch the carpet! You’ll
roll your ankle! Who put that carpet there, anyway? Lotta creeps in this world,
I tell ya!”
She’s this perfect blend of her parents: all the diagnostic
intellect, sharp wit and humanist pragmatism of brilliant Dr. Schur and the
grace, agility, flexibility and spiritual intuition of dancer Jody (whom I
whole-heartedly believe is a time-space synesthete. No joke). Most people can
see life and dissect it but can’t feel it and vice versa. Rachel has had the
dizzying, empowering sensation of both since birth.
This makes fear an inevitable side effect of living. She can’t
neatly compartmentalize because she FEELS it. She can’t emotionally binge
because she intellectually understands all the facets and complexities comprising a monumental
“big picture”. From what I've seen, this means Rachel sees no choice but to face her fears. Head on. For as long as it takes, even when it's messy and uncomfortable. If it is only in fully
facing that which we fear that we encounter true bravery, it should come as no
surprise that Rachel is not only brave, she’s the best at bravery. She doesn't even know she's doing it. She masters
it covertly. Strong but flexible, calculating but free-spirited. Unlike most of us, who find a way to solve feelings OR facts and then to cope without full resolution, a fear
faced is a fear debased for Rachel. She operates on a level most people can’t
wrap their brains or hearts around.
Somehow, without all of the evidence intact, I sensed this
innately four and a half years ago. I’m
sitting in an eerily silent police station. My phone is vibrating
continuously. I can’t feel it because
every inch of me is quaking and tensing spastically because I can’t face this.
I can’t comprehend it, can’t dissect it and I am flogging myself because I can’t
feel it. By the end of the hour, I had over sixty inbound phone calls but in
that moment, I walked outside and made my first phone call to Rachel.
It was cowardly. She didn’t ask for it. She didn’t deserve
it. We didn’t have a decade of friendship lending itself to the requirement of
support. I had thousands of people I knew would want to be there and
inexplicably, selfishly, my heart recognized her as the bravest person I knew
and flung itself, chose her to be family whether she liked it or not. As I stumbled
through shock and sputtered that someone had killed my mom and brother, I knew
she felt what I couldn’t immediately. She cried. Then I cried. Finally. The
shaking stopped and I sobbed with her. I had a brief break of daylight in the
darkest day of my life because Rachel was crying with me and because she loved
me. She was crying FOR me because she could see and feel what I was facing. I
think subconsciously, it was my hope that I could rebuild with someone like her
on my side. I was strong, I was optimistic but not inherently brave. She could
teach me that.
And she has. For six
years, she’s shown courage over and over again by taking my hand and making me
her family. Every day she shows me the
best, the worst and the funniest things about this world and all the hidden
layers of meaning. She shows me nobody's brave without being afraid and saying "I'm scared. Now what?" Most importantly, she’s
showed me that people aren’t born brave: it is an art form to be mastered like
dance.
She taught me how to focus on small, repeatable, measurable goals
like workouts, hot yoga, B vitamins, diet, the search for the perfect tea/dress
silhouette and self-care.
She pushed me to stretch myself by finding new adventures,
whether it was a small, unheard of yogurt shop in Georgetown or shifting my
entire career goals in pursuit of fulfillment. Even a change in hair color is
the sort of small stretch that can spark a whole life makeover. Just stretch
and see what you can suddenly reach.
She taught me to check in with my spiritual, physical and
emotional body. She shows me all the time that we contain the answers within
ourselves. She knows that when we don’t check in and barrel forward, we’re
setting ourselves up for injury. She’s not afraid to look at me and say “It’s
okay not to be happy right now”. That self-awareness and acceptance is a
liberating gift.
Dancers know how to make the best of what they truly are.
They know how to BE where they are and maximize their strengths. You can’t be a
tall dancer if you’re short and Rachel has taught me to ask “Well, why would
you WANT to? That means you’re great at…” Some people wish they were sopranos,
tiny and brunette even if that sounds dreadfully boring to me. Embrace it, love
it and see what others see. On that note…
She knows there’s enough room for everyone’s form, strengths
and spirit. She builds up everyone around her because she genuinely sees their
gifts as necessary to build a better connected, stronger and beautiful world. She’s
the least jealous person I have ever encountered and simultaneously the most
humble. If you’re not close to Rachel, it’s enough to make you want to throw
things at her.
Most importantly, she knows when to celebrate and how to do
it RIGHT. “There’s this great place…” usually starts most of my best afternoons
when she’s in town. She cultivates and collects the really great stuff. It’s a
weird sense of accomplishment if I lead her to something worth passing on. Like
“Ha HA! It passed the Rachel Test!” Regardless of my contribution, it’s always
these little meandering walks with her that spark the catalyst for all my moves
in the right direction. I don’t know how she always does it but it’s foolproof.
There’s still a lot of fear for me to face in this world.
Every time my stomach turns over on itself, every time my heart feels the jolt
of too much perspective or my soul is beleaguered by vague uncertainty, I pick
up the phone and call Rachel. I mysteriously find myself on facebook, excited
when there’s a green dot next to her name. I know she’ll tell me it’s okay to
feel it and remind me how to face it. Maybe she’ll casually throw me the tools
I need and somehow make it seem like I’m doing HER a favor (it’s a magical gift
she possesses).
So here’s to Rachel Schur: the bravest lady I know and the
one most worth celebrating. I love you sky big. Every time I look around at my
blessings, the life I’ve built and how far I’ve come, I see the little sparkle
of your touch reflected back at me. Make no mistake, I am constantly grateful
and truly blessed to have you in my life. No hashtags, just the truth.
