Let's talk about beauty...

By the time I graduated high school, I still didn't know how to swim.
I'd never learned, not properly, and there was a reason.

To this day I remember my first swimming lesson. My PE teacher's voice was yelling instructions at me as I awkwardly splashed my way through the water.
But only part of my attention was focused on staying afloat, because meanwhile on the sidelines some boys from my class were laughing together. You see, they'd always thought that 'whales were supposed to know how to swim'.

I didn't cry, or make a fuss.
But when I reached the end of that pool, I got out, and didn't get back in again.
Not for a long time.

A lot of us have stories just like this one.
And consequently, we know what it's like to look at the cover of a magazine and feel a pang of innocent determination... that one day, we want to look 'just like that'.

I remember being one of these girls.
I'd always press the 'fat burn' button on the treadmill,
believing that somehow this convenient little setting would live up to its name and get me the body I'd always wanted. (False advertising if you ask me!)
I'd spend years looking down at my annoyingly stubborn scales, which never had anything new to say.
I'd listen attentively to people I trusted, as they'd offer me 'constructive criticism' on how to be more beautiful.

You see, I know what it's like to be afraid of the water.
Of avoiding the deep end at all costs and wanting to hide in the locker room so that nobody would ever have to know how slow, overweight or uncoordinated you are.
But that's not how you learn to swim.
You learn to swim when your fears stop being as important as your desire to become better.

And it was here, at a very simple realization that I found my turning point.
I don't want or need to be skinny to be beautiful.
I needed to be strong.

And the moment I made this decision, that was what I became.
Because the beautiful thing about strength, is that it doesn't begin with a simple gym membership.
It begins with you.
In the world beneath your skin.

I don't like talking about 'imperfections'...
Because it implies that to be 'perfect' is the standard we are striving for.
And I don't believe that this is realistic, or even possible.

I think it's about time we start setting ourselves new standards.
To be whole.
To be happy.
To be strong.

Because beauty is a whole lot more than a pretty face and a winning smile.
Beauty is nonexclusive.. and a gift we all share, at the heart of who we are.
Some may say it is fleeting, but I disagree.
I believe it grows with us, as we move through life...
Along with our capacity to seek it out and find it in each other.
Because isn't that one of the most beautiful things of all?

I've recently committed myself to being a bigger part of this conversation, and the way I see it, there are two ways to do this:
1. When you see beauty in someone, tell them about it.
2. When someone sees beauty in you, believe them.

I'll be the first to admit that this isn't always easy.
Often, something as simple as acknowledging the beauty in ourselves, can take a hell of a lot of strength.
But I hope you can find it.
Because you deserve to understand how beautiful you are.

In many ways, it's easier to shape ourselves from the outside.
We can diet, apply make-up, do our hair... all sorts of things.
But it's a lot scarier, to stop relying on what our eyes are telling us, and to start believing in this ambiguous 'inner' type of beauty, that you can't see in the mirror.
Because you can't SEE it.
And as a result we are left with two options.
To trust in each other,
and to trust in ourselves.

May you always find the courage to climb back into that pool,
and just keep swimming. :)

Peace and love,

Inga. x

The Last Lesson

It was only a few weeks ago that I was walking through school and some girls from my drama class ran up to me.

"This afternoon is our last class with you, isn't it Miss?"

"Yes sweetie, it is."

"We have a surprise for you!"

"Oh God," I thought as they hurried away giggling.

"They're going to prank me again..."

This class in particular had earned themselves quite a track record in this respect.

But they didn't! Not this time.

They bought me a card. 

Adorable, right?

Let us take a brief moment to acknowledge this. A bunch of 13 year olds, who most of the time couldn't remember to bring a pencil with them to class, had actually gone out, found a card, written inside of it and brought it all the way to their last lesson with me.

And okay, this may not sound like the hugest of deals...

But it meant a lot to me. :)

So I had thought that was the surprise, and maybe even they thought it was, but by no means was it the most precious thing they gave to me that day.

I told them that because it was our last lesson, I wanted them to think back over our year together and choose some of their favourite drama games to play!
You know, for the last time.

They were quiet for a moment (which is always suspicious), before one girl put up her hand (also suspicious) and asked me,

"Miss, do you remember the first game we ever played?"

I didn't. So she reminded me.

The game was called Pukanah.

I remember playing it in our very first drama class thinking that all the rowdy Maori chanting, clapping and stamping would get us energised and be a fun way to break the ice!

Instead, what I ended up with was a roomful of nervous 13 year olds, clapping awkwardly and BEGGING me to choose another game.

So we didn't do it again.

I'd just figured it wasn't their thing.

But now they wanted to play!

So that's exactly what we did.

But this time was different!

They stamped,

They chanted,

And they sang!

They sang LOUD!

So much so, that as soon as we'd stopped I gathered them around to tell them all how incredibly proud of them I was. But one of them interrupted me. 

"Miss Johnson! Do you remember what happened the first time we played that game?

We were all so nervous and shy...

And we all just kinda stood around looking awkward!"

Everyone started giggling and nodding at the memory.

"But Miss! Did you see us just now!"

"We're totally confident!"

Then they were all talking...

And telling me things.

Things like much more confident they felt,

How happy they were,

And how much they loved me.

So I listened and I let them,

Because I loved them too.

But here's the thing...

They could tell me all about how much I had taught them,

But by no means were they the only students in the room.

The fact is that for the 7 months I'd been at that school, I didn't always know what I was doing.

And let's be honest, I still don't!

But there are a couple of things I've figured out.

Just one, simply, is that there is one thing you see a lot of when you're a teacher,

And that's beauty.

It doesn't always look the same,

And sometimes you don't understand it until much later.

But it's there, in front of you.

All the time.

Sometimes it looks like a hand in the air,

As the 'quiet one' in the room begins asking questions.

Sometimes it looks like a student copying the notes down twice,

So her friend with a sore finger won't fall behind.

Sometimes it looks like a 'thank-you',

A held door, a smile,

Or an emotional group selfie.

But it's there,

Everywhere.

You just have to look.

And so here's my resolution,

As late as it is!

That no matter how far I wander,

Or where I end up,

And regardless of how time and trials changes me,

I will always remember this lesson.

And I will never stop looking.