Gold and Golden

Celebrating our 50th Wednesdays at the Well!

Today is a celebration. Today is the 50th edition of Wednesdays at the Well on Substack. Today is gold and golden.

And today I am thinking about the time I won a gold medal, for taking first place in the 6th grade Spelling Bee. Although I no longer have that medal, I still feel it. Hanging from my neck on a red, white, and blue ribbon. It was round, the size of a large sand dollar. Shiny. And heavy. Not on my shoulders but on my heart.

I remember my winning word. As soon as the judge revealed it, I knew I had it. I didn’t have to ask them to repeat it or use it in a sentence. I knew it like I knew my own name.

Natatorium. N-A-T-A-T-O-R-I-U-M. Natatorium.

There was cheering. Clapping. Some whistling from the crowd. I was so excited and so afraid to show it. In third grade I took third place in the Spelling Bee after misspelling because. Not because I didn’t know the letters, but because my brain got ahead of my tongue and I said the u before the a. Celebrating third place and a bronze medal felt okay, but first place and gold was too much.

Through subtle and direct messaging, I had been told my whole young life that I was worthless and yet when I did something good was also told it wasn’t worth celebrating. That I was selfish of self-centered for wanting to be congratulated or recognized, or wanting to display my art or awards on the refrigerator. I was trapped in a demoralizing cycle of wanting to make people proud and not wanting to come across as proud. Success led to more humiliation than admitting failure. Shame pushed me to hide and eventually to stop even trying. A bad grade was easier to bring home than a good one. Misspelling because was better received than sharing that I’d won gold for knowing how to spell natatorium. Who did I think I was!?!

The hardest thing for me to do has been celebrating myself and my own work. And yet, that’s what today is all about. Not quite a year ago, after attending a transformative and inspiring writing retreat, I created a Substack account. Prior to that Wednesdays at the Well had been an inconsistent weekly post on Facebook. I had big hopes when I started, but they were overshadowed by a hurricane, a family health crisis, and a big move. And increasing self-doubt. When I said yes to Substack, I said yes to being authentic and honest and vulnerable, to being open. More than anything, I said yes to showing up each week. I said yes to being consistent.

Today I celebrate 50 weeks of saying yes and being seen and heard, making and taking up space, and turning words into water.

Today I celebrate doing the hard thing that I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to do. And today I say with joy that it’s easier now to not only share my work, but also to be me.

50^th anniversaries are considered golden. Dating back centuries gold is the chosen gift for such occasions. Gold, as a precious metal, is said to represent the strength, wisdom and persistence it takes to reach 50 years (of anything).

What is it that we are celebrating? The milestone or the journey to it?

Today I sit in a field filled with golden flowers and golden weeds with gold striped bees buzzing around and golden rays of sun piercing through the trees glistening off the river. And I’m reminded gold is a color as much as it is a metal. A shade of yellow with it’s own unique hues and distinct tones. A color that reflects wonder and magnifies beauty. A color that calms and cools and captures not only the worth, but the strength and wisdom of experience.

The gold medal I won in that Spelling Bee wasn’t only about what I knew, but why I knew it. I knew how to spell natatorium because once a week beginning when I was a toddler, I went to swim classes at the high school. The door from the locker room to the pool had a big sign on the tiled wall that read NATATORIUM. I saw it every week for years. For me it represented fun and freedom. It was the entry way to an hour in my favorite place. The pool was a portal to another world. One of creativity and imagination. One where I was held and nurtured by water. Able to move and breathe in ways I couldn’t anywhere else. I could float and learn new strokes and do cartwheels and flips and somersaults and handstands. My body was my own and it was magical. My teachers and coaches celebrated each new skill whether completed or merely tried. After every accomplishment there were gold star stickers galore. I always put them on my forehead and cheeks rather than the paper report card.

These last 50 weeks I have written about what I know and why I know it.

I know hope because of despair. I know life because of death. I know living because I’ve known a lot of dying. I know healing because of pain. I know wholeness because of trauma. I know comfort because of grief. I know pride because of shame. I know authenticity because of hiding. I know joy because of sorrow. I know community because of isolation. I know love because of evil. I know water because of thirst.

Today I celebrate what I know and why I know it, even and especially the lessons that nearly drowned me.

Today I celebrate that natatorium, all it taught me and all it brought me.

Today I celebrate a family and a home that believe in celebrating, that remind me I’m worth celebration.

Today I celebrate Wednesdays at the Well and each of you reading these words and all the words I’ve written and the ones I’ve shared.

Today I celebrate the doors that have opened because of Wednesdays at the Well has been consistently flowing.

Today I celebrate new connections and encounters, the comments and messages, the calls and conversations.

Today I celebrate the readers I know and those of you who come each week and dip your toes in the water silently.

Over the weekend I was up in northern Michigan and while walking on Little Traverse Bay at sunset, noticed there was a large rock off the breakwater that looked like a hole had been carved perfectly into the top to hold the coins people threw in. It reminded me of a wishing well. Earlier I saw a penny on the sidewalk and felt drawn to pick it up. I pulled this small metal from my pocket and held it—for a moment that felt like a lifetime—with tenderness and anticipation as the clouds parted just enough for small beams of golden light to peer through. And then I tossed it in with intention.

May we all come to celebrate who we are, what we know, and the experiences that birth our knowing. Oh, how gold and golden life is when are able to celebrate it all.

Water-fully Yours,
Rebecca & 10 Camels

Do something today to celebrate you!

Here’s a few ways you can help us celebrate our 50th Wednesdays at the Well.