When in Doubt, Walk in a Circle (part 2)

Let's try this again... Maybe I'll get to my point this time

The more you know

In high school, I took a career aptitude test. The results? Forest Ranger. Ummm, what?

I’d scored high on the measure of social responsibility, plus I was deemed curious and imaginative and placed a high value on variety. At the time, I could only imagine myself high up in a fire tower, alone, watching the birds soar, reading an endless supply of books, and talking to the squirrel I’d named Lloyd.

In my mind, the squirrel liked to stand below my tower and sing a screeching song that sounded remotely like “In Your Eyes.”

Recently, I (re-)took the Myers-Briggs and Clifton Strengths personality quizzes.¹ My results came back as ENFJ-T and Coach / Deliverer / Empathizer / Strategist / Thinker.

Interestingly, I straddle the line in the Myers-Briggs first letter. My “E” ranking outweighs my “I” tendencies 52% to 48%. For those of you in a similar category, I invite you to my special club of high-functioning Introverts.

Wait, yes, I am more extroverted than introverted, but I am also a glass-half-full idealist. Plus, who’d want to be called a low-functioning anything? I’m sticking with my phrase as delivered.

High-Functioning Introverts UNITE!

Carlos Greaves

shared this little nugget and reminded me that I never got to the point in my first post… Thanks, Carlos, for the nudge.

If you like the anonymity of sharing your heart through prose, poetry, performance art, etc., and then dread the steps and efforts it takes to self-promote, we can commiserate together and—dare I say—help one another with a small smile from the other side of the room, a kind word in the comments, or a simple re-stacking for a silent but powerful act of solidarity.

Now, on to the meaning of my title…

Me + Crowds

My parents put me in dance class when I was four. I loved it. See my rosy cheeks. I could dress up. Wear make-up (like an adult!). Move. Have the bright lights shine on me… and yet I didn’t have to see a single person in the crowd. (Why? See above: bright lights.)

“The force is strong with this one.” Here’s me, nearly 7 years old and half a head shorter, not because I was a dance protégé, but because I was with the older girls—early evidence of my proclivity to over-achieve. SIDE NOTE: I’m rocking that Dorothy Hamill haircut, right? And who doesn’t look amazing in yellow tulle?!?

Dancing on a stage is everything to a borderline extrovert-introvert. You get to be the center of attention and not. see. anyone.

So what happens when you DO see the crowd? I’ll tell you. You suffer from heart-thudding, feet-stilling, panic-inducing stage fright.

Meaning Exposed

I remember one particularly traumatic experience. I was in junior high school, doing a solo dance in the middle of a local holiday bazaar. In other words, no bright lights. And the crowd was Right There. Within arms’ reach of me.

The dance was flowing out of me. And then… it wasn’t. I’d completely lost my place. No clue what move was next. A pirouette? A kick-ball-change? Nope. Nada. No memory of the choreography.

In the nanosecond that my feet stopped and panic flooded my system with adrenaline, I remembered the best advice my dance teacher (or maybe it was an older dancer) told me. “KEEP MOVING. Even if you only walk in a circle.”

I could’ve fled the dance floor, but I chose Fight instead of Flight. I took an eight-count and walked my jazz shoes-clad feet in a circle. And you know what? It worked. By the time I got to count six, I remembered what was next.

Disconnecting my line of sight with the scary holiday bazaar shoppers, fellow dancers, and family watching me allowed my brain to reboot and recall what the heck I was supposed to do next.

My point is this.

Every day, we make choices. And if your selection is making you freeze like a deer in the headlights, then try disconnecting. Seeing your choices from a different angle could be all you need to see the best choice for you. So… When in Doubt, Walk in a Circle.²

Duality at its finest.

Even Lois Lowry implies this struggle is real for her, too. Do you know how much that calms the rising panic in me? Not that anyone should compare my writing to her writing because she is, well, THE Lois Lowry. I humbly bow to her ability to wield prose! But knowing a skilled and acclaimed author shares a similar internal conflict is reassuring.

As writers, we want to share—feel compelled to share—and yet want to connect with our readers on our terms. Enter stage right, Substack.

I invite you to subscribe so you can cheer from the comments, stalk me silently with occasional likes and restacks, or serenade me with your rendition of “In Your Eyes” (that is, chat or message with me on Substack—please, don’t show up at my home).

And no, I’ve never pursued a career in forestry.³

1. Thank you, 16personalities and HIGH5, for the free assessments.

2. I recently had an interesting exchange with

J. Curtis

on his note about what to do when stuck. Check out his suggestions!

3. Sorry, Lloyd, you’ll have to squeak at someone else.