Women's Conference: A "See" of Diamonds

So. Much. Estrogen.

I have plenty, thank you. :) It's Women's Conference time, and I have struggled yet again.

Mostly, this week I've been complaining. Complaining about Mormon Mom stereotypical culture. About Stereotypical relief society presidents. Peeved at the two-faceness. Outraged by the spiritual opportunities that are reduced to "girls night away from the kids."

Then, thanks to a conversation with Lura, it occurred to me. I am being two-faced. I am reducing their spiritual opportunities to "girls night out" and ignoring my own - reducing them to "a job." Wow, Jill. Really? So let's try this again, shall we?


Dear Women's Conference Ladies, as you enter the room to check in, I smile at you and welcome you. That is real. I say I'm glad to see you. That is true. I ask you where you are from and seem interested in your life and the people you brought with you. I AM interested, turns out that's true. May I also say that I may have appeared two-faced as I talked horribly about generalized  "women's conference ladies" today.

As you come in one by one, I see something special in you, something unique and I want to be the one to hand you the keys and offer you lime-aid and show you where to go, because I want to see you smile and I want you to like me. Because you could be someone I share a special moment with. I don't want to miss out on that. I already like you, I just have to convince you.. Sounds nice doesn't it? So where's all the bad mouthing coming from?

Here's what I have a problem with (emphasis on "I have a problem" - this is my perception, not necessarily the correct one), when you come in packs, it scares me and plays on my insecurities. As a pack, as an organization with a name and a purpose, invincible, and larger than yourselves, You (speaking to a non-existent generalized group-the one I've made up and am afraid of), You walk in on a mission, you are not interested in me as a person. You function for the organization and not for the people that make it up. You are here for the classes about love and relationships, but not for the love and relationships that are right in front of you right now giving you the key or map. I am the instrument to getting you on your way with what you paid for. My smile is no longer a gift, it's what you are entitled to. If I don't have one on my face after five hours of feeling silently rejected by your rushing, it is not seen as an opportunity for you to share yours; it is seen as a failure on my part. My inquiries about who you are are met with impatience and vagueness, your guard is up and you are in too much of a hurry to even think about letting it down an inch even if I show you that it's safe. You have your group of girls, and you don't have any openings in your circle, not for me. I, I don't have one of those circles. Part of me is jealous. Part of me is hurt. Part of me is repulsed and starts making defenses.

I suppose it is my heart, pleading for love anywhere I can get it, that is afraid of the things that CAN be seen with Women's Conference- the rush, the wanting of perfection, the "us" and "them" ness, the entitlement and instrumentalizing of relationships. So, here's the kicker: My heart is so scared and so guarded from these things that I beat them to it and do all those things I hate quite well.

I started rushing by the end, trying to get my co-workers be more efficient and get people in and out as fast as possible, assuming that they only wanted to be with me long enough to get what they wanted from me. I beat them to the punch, so I wouldn't get punched. Maybe I was right, and they wanted out fast. But maybe I was rushing so much that I missed someone important who needed me to slow down for them - that one person would have been worth a punch from someone else.

I started wanting perfection for them, which meant, inescapably, by definition, I had to pretend to be someone I wasn't. I had to pretend to be perfect. I suck at being perfect so I punched myself at my imperfection before anyone else could.

I immediately labeled them and stereotyped "them" and tried to find a "us" (staff) to belong to. I separated Us into them and us, so the ladies wouldn't have to. I excluded myself from them, so I wouldn't have to feel the sting that letting them do it would have done. Then even within the "us" of staff, I felt threatened and unsafe, so I separated staff into an "us" and "them" so they wouldn't do it in front of my face. There are some people I work with whom I feel will let me be one of "them", and others whom I am sure I could never be, so I pretend that I wouldn't want to be one of "them" anyway. I stereotype "them."

Later this afternoon, I decided to try something different. Because my beating "them" all to the punch(the conference ladies, and my co-workers) was becoming exhausting, lonely, and my heart-knuckles started bleeding. I took my guitar to campus in my favorite spot and sang my heart out to each person that walked by. I eliminated and us and them. I just saw our relationships when I looked into the eyes walking by. Some avoided eye contact - I'm used to it. That happens when you break the socially constructed code. Some stared right back at me and smiled as they walked past and I felt like I was good enough for us to be an "us" in a brief moment. No one else shared that moment, it was just "us" in that moment of eye contact and my heart soared.

Helen, a lady old enough to be my grandmother made her group stop. She walked over to me. she sat down on my bench. She told her group to go on, because they complained of needing to get somewhere. They left. She stayed. She prompted me to keep playing and singing. I did. I watched her closely. She closed her eyes and rocked back and forth to my picking and singing. She smiled and took a deep breath in through her nose and out her wrinkled mouth. I finished the song and she asked me to keep picking a certain part that she really loved the sound of on my James (my guitar). While I picked, she told me some bits of wisdom that I needed to hear a women's conference lady say, so I knew that women's conference ladies are just like "us", not like "them", whoever "they" are...

"It takes some practice to slow down and become close to beauty, doesn't it? We are always so busy, rushing around, and we miss the reasons we are here. Just not long ago, I got up early with my grandson and we went for a walk and we saw the dew on the grass and the way the sun was coming up, it looked like a field of diamonds! I asked my grandson, 'doesn't that field look like a sea of diamonds?' He said to me, 'grandma, it IS a sea of diamonds!' It was so beautiful, and to him, in his own imagination, it WAS REALLY a sea of diamonds! Isn't that wonderful?"

Yes, Helen, it IS wonderful. Women's Conference is like walking by a field I only walk by once a year. It is covered in dew and if I could learn to slow down more often, like I did today, Women's conference could look like a sea of diamonds. And if I can believe it enough with a humble and creative mind, the women won't just look Like diamonds, I will see that they really ARE a "SEE" of diamonds. Diamonds like Helen. But it really is all up to me what I choose to SEE.