Meeting Amber

It did not start out as an odd request.

One of the women I work with asked me to meet with one of her potential clients/teammates/business partners (named Amber). As I said, this is not an odd request; this is part of what I do. Actually, THIS one of my favorite PARTS of what I do -- meeting new people who are typically forward thinking and positive. I have the honor and pleasure of connecting with them and acting as a resource as they begin their rise to greatness.

More or less.

So, the request did not come as a surprise. What came next however, did.

Before I went, the woman who was asking for my help wanted to tell me a little about this Amber. Amber, apparently, was quiet and soft-spoken. She didn't respond well to a lot of energy, and preferred to communicate with people who are more subdued and speak in calm, soft, even tones. She is often off-put by boisterous laughter, and prefers a serious conversation to light-hearted-humor/sarcasm/or anything more colorful than matter of fact sentences. Gestures are best kept to a minimum and to not extend beyond the immediate frame of the body. Oh, and she wasn't particularly fond of blonde women. (Ok, I made that last line up). The woman I work with knew this was a lot to take in, but she wanted to be sure my conversation with Amber was pleasant and effective...

There was a pause.

In that pause, two important thoughts went through my head in very rapid succession.

1. I am the WRONG person for this.
2. I don't know if I am good enough at "faking-it" to be the RIGHT person for this.

But I didn't have much choice, it was only 15 minutes until I would be pulling into the local new-age breakfast establishment where I would soon be meeting the anti-Kindra. I was just going to have to try.

I opened the heavy door to this, my favorite, breakfast place and took a few deep breaths chanting quietly to myself: "I am as soothing as a summer day, as calming as a trickling stream, as soft as a bunny, as light as a feather, as stiff as a board. Repeat." I nodded serenely at the hostess who recognized me from the many UNserene visits of my past. But TODAY, today I was a different person. Today I was (inhale)KIN (exhale)DRAAAAAAH.

As I walked into the main dining area I saw her, Amber. I tip-toed up to her in my silver ballerina slipper shoes (the quietest shoes I own). I nodded at Amber to calmly show my appreciation for our meeting. I slowly slid into my chair, trying not to make a sound. Unfortunately, the chair squealed on the stained concrete floors as it pushed back from the table. That startled me so much I grabbed the edge of the table with a lurch and thrust enough uneven weight to the back two legs of the chair, that the front legs came up. Balancing the chair on two back legs caused them to slide quickly beneath the seat of the chair nearly propelling me, back-of-skull-first onto the concrete floor. The entire restaurant turned to stare at the ruckus.

Though I avoided full-on floor contact, I knew it was over ... the clock struck twelve, my serenity carriage turned back into a unbridled energy machine... and there was no glass slipper in sight.

I blushed... I decided it was probably better to just be plain old Kindra and so I was.

What happened NEXT reminded me of a Japanese proverb/story that, since reading it, has become one of my favorites. I can't remember it word for word, so here instead is my version:

There once was a large hill that stood tall and proud and at the top of the hill was rumored to be a small house nestled deep in the woods. The house was not easy to find, but the rare traveler who dared to seek it and succeeded, HE would be rewarded with a rare gift: the complete understanding of the kind of world he lived in. Many a story had been told about this place known as The House of 1,000 Mirrors. Many a man had traveled, many had discovered the truth of his world and the stories were as varied as the men who sought them. Word of this house traveled to the two towns that rested on either side of this great hill. The tales traveled into the homes of the people who lived there, who told the stories sitting around the fireplaces with their families and pets at their feet.

One evening a grouchy, scowling, skulking pup in one of the towns decided he would go seek his reward at The House of 1,000 Mirrors. He wanted complete understanding of the world he lived in. So slowly, grouchily, scowling and skulking the whole walk up the hill, he made his way to The House of 1,000 Mirrors. He did not wag his tail, he did not pant with glee. He merely put one paw in front of the other saying, "The weather sure is miserable today. Then again, the weather is always miserable. The birds sure are annoying today. Then again, they're always annoying" and so on the conversation went until the grouchy, scowling, skulking pup finally found his way to The House of 1,000 Mirrors.

Slowly, slowly he climbed the old creeky stairs. Slowly, slowly he pushed open the old creeky door. Finally he was there, standing inside The House of 1,000 Mirrors.

It was dark. He couldn't see a thing. "I shoulda known," he moaned, "all this time, all this traveling for nothing."

Just then, the room was filled with three bursts of light and sound (that was far too electronically advanced for this ancient little hut, but so the story goes). The room was illuminated. 1,000 mirrors came to life, all at once.

But the grouchy, scowling, skulking pup did not notice the mirrors... All he saw were the faces of 1,000 pups staring back at him as skulky, as scowly, as grouchy as he had ever been and 1,000 times worse. He growled at them, they growled back. He bared his teeth, they bared back. He started to lunge at them, and 1,000 pups lunged back with evil in their eyes.

The pup let out a yelp and raced to get out of the little house. As he reached the old creeky door, the lights went dark, the dogs disappeared, and the grouchy, scowling, skulking pup started the long walk home alone.

"That is a miserable place. I will never return. Filled with miserable mangy pups. I will never return."

A few evenings later a perky, playful, friendly pup who lived in the village on the other side of the hill decided he would go seek his reward at The House of 1,000 Mirrors. He wanted complete understanding of the world he lived in. So excitedly, perkily, and playfully he bounded the whole walk up the hill as he made his way to The House of 1,000 Mirrors. He wagged his tail furiously, he panted with glee and anticipation. He danced one paw in front of the other saying, "What a beautiful day, EVERY DAY is a beautiful day. The sun is out, the birds are singing a beautiful song and I am on an adventure to find The House of 1,000 Mirrors. What more could a pup ask for?"

Finally, he reached the House he had been seeking. He quickly climbed the old creeky stairs. With nervous excitement he pushed open the old creeky door with his little wet nose. Finally he was there, standing inside The House of 1,000 Mirrors.

It was dark. He couldn't see a thing. "Oh boy Oh boy," he whispered, "I just can't wait. Oh boy, oh boy, this is just too exciting."

Just then, the room was filled with three bursts of light and sound (that was far too electronically advanced for this ancient little hut, but so the story goes). The room was illuminated. 1,000 mirrors came to life, all at once.

But the perky, playful, friendly pup did not notice the mirrors... All he saw were the faces of 1,000 pups staring back at him as perky, as playful, as friendly as he had ever been and 1,000 times more so. He barked at them, they barked back. He wagged his tail, they wagged back. He started to hop about in circles, yipping yapping as playful dogs do, and 1,000 pups hopped about in circles, excited to have a new playmate.

This went on for sometime; the yipping, the yapping the hopping about. Eventually, the excitement was all too much and he was starting to get hungry. He bid farewell to his 1,000 friends and as he reached the old creeky door, the lights went dark, the dogs disappeared, and the perky, playful, friendly pup started the long walk home alone.

"That is a WONDERFUL place. I will return soon. Filled with so many wonderful pups. I will return soon."

As our story comes to an end, we learn that indeed both pups received their reward for finding The House with 1,000 Mirrors: complete understanding of the kind of world they each live in... as their worlds are nothing more than reflections of themselves.

-----

As I sat there with Amber that afternoon, after deciding (or rather having no other choice but) to be myself, I noticed a very distinct difference between the Amber I thought I was meeting and the Amber sitting in front of me. Amber was vivacious and quick witted. She met every ounce of energy I had and raised me a couple watts. She spoke quickly and passionately, loudly and freely. Her excitement for life oozed out of every exaggerated gesture (one resulted in a spilled Diet Coke). She laughed boisterously, frequently, and was a huge fan of the many jokes she herself cracked. She was nothing like I thought she'd be ...

She wasn't the anti-Kindra. In fact, it was almost as if she was ... a reflection.

As I left that afternoon, pleased with the way the meeting had gone, I felt as if I were on the verge of uncovering a lifelong mystery. Amber was not at all who I thought she'd be. How could the woman who wanted me to meet with Amber been so wrong ...? And then I realized, the woman herself was fairly quiet and soft-spoken. She didn't respond well to a lot of energy, and preferred to communicate with people who are more subdued and speak in calm, soft, even tones... the Amber SHE knew was merely a reflection of herself.

Just as the Amber I knew, was a reflection of ME.

----

The lesson to be learned here is simple and profound. So much of the world we live in, so much of how we understand our world, how we know our world to be, is simply a reflection of who WE are. Therefore, be careful the face, be aware the attitude, be mindful the disposition you take with you as you go about your days because, for better or worse, it will be reflected back to you... 1,000 times or more.