Tara-Cousineau

Student Teacher of Jack Kornfield
I was raised to always put on a pretty face. Look neat and proper. Be polite. Not draw any attention. Say your prayers before bed. This was a tall order for a little girl born with pigeon -toed feet, with a bar brace screwed to her shoes, and who managed to knock out her two front baby teeth at age 3, leaving her toothless in photos for at least three more years. How did that happen? Swinging like a monkey on the arms of two pieces of living room furniture like parallel bars and face planting on a marble top coffee table. I still have nightmares of my teeth falling out.

Clumsy, awkward and shy.



It’s no wonder I have been a recovering perfectionist for at least a few decades or more as I had many flaws to overcome. But what my five-year-old self with banana curls really needed was permission to be a messy energetic knocked-kneed kid. I needed to feel okay in making mistakes and laughing afterward. Really I yearned to play outside until way after dark and watch the fireflies on humid summer nights.

I discovered that I could be that long lost child or at least befriend her because, gosh, she was irrepressible. When I look back now I admire her tenacity, her knowing that an education was one way to pass to freedom, and more recently, her willingness to be a compassionate mess.

I’ve discovered over the years that being a messenger for healing and caring is in those tiny steps or awkward lurches forward, just like wearing that old bar between the shoes.