Be helpable

Some years ago, I became slightly obsessed with this video, by Canadian writer, entrepreneur, and thought-leader Danielle LaPorte. It was ostensibly a book promotion video, but unlike any I had seen before. I found myself watching it over and over again, for two reasons:

I hadn’t seen many women take up space like that—in a sort of rock and roll, kick-ass way—for her own business. I had seen rock and roll women, sure, but they were generally in bands controlled by record labels. This one was calling her own shots. I liked that.

Also, something about her reminded me of the album cover of Rio, by Duran Duran, which had come out just as I was old enough to be getting into music and has never left me.

Over the years I have been so grateful for this clip that I watched time and again, because the repeated phrase—the chorus—is this:

You’ll figure it out.
You’ll figure it out.
You will figure it out.

In the thirteen years that have followed, whenever I run into something hard or confusing, I hear Danielle’s voice in my head—You will figure it out.

And generally I do.

Even if “figuring it out” sometimes means finding the right person to explain it to me slowly and in great detail.

A different part of Danielle’s advice popped into my head recently. It was this line:

“Tell us your dream—when you declare it and share it, you’re accountable and you’re helpable.”

Help-able: capable of being helped. It’s a real word, even if my spellcheck does not agree.

I’ve been thinking of being helpable A LOT lately.

It’s a much longer story, one I will tell eventually, but I recently discovered I am very bad at receiving things—compliments, gifts, help, and more. It’s so uncomfortable, I actually get a roiling feel in my belly that I will go to great lengths to avoid. So, compliments are skillfully deflected, gifts are sidestepped, and help? In the deepest part of my soul, I hope to never have to ask for or need help.

But I know this isn’t healthy. This isn’t how we are meant to live.

Once I understood how this functioned for me (thanks to the help of trained professionals), I realized I had some serious homework to do—or, rather, lifework.

I had to learn how to be helpable.
I had to practice asking for and receiving help—as graciously as possible.

It was hard at first, I won’t lie. I asked to be picked up at my house, even though it was blocks out of the way that a friend was driving. I asked a neighbor who is a cyclist if he had a tire pump that fits a certain valve—and instead of just loaning it to me, he insisted I bring the bike over. Before I knew it, he had my bike up on a rack and was fixing the gears as well, while I tried not to squirm with discomfort . But he is retired and likes to tinker, so he was having fun. And I know he’ll feel more comfortable now asking me for help when he’s in a time of need.

It’s true there was one time I got a bit teary during an ask (I am one of those people whose emotions come out their eyeballs). But the more I’ve done it, the easier it gets—and even a bit fun. I let a friend pay for dinner without haggling (too much). I asked someone I barely know to do a favor for me, and didn’t cringe one bit.

Now, I am looking for any opportunity to ask, any opportunity to receive. I know giving generally makes the giver feel good, and it feels increasingly good to me to receive.

So, tonight, when a neighbor friend who knows I like lilacs offered me clippers and the run of her yard to pick, I said yes—even though I technically still have flowers of my own. She loves lilacs and loves to share, and I am delighted to have more.

I know I keep banging on about community, but this is how we do it. This is how we learn to unpack the unnatural and un-human values we’ve been given, through an economic system and a government that does not have our best interest at heart. The myth of rugged individualism, of doing it all yourself has never been true for humans. It’s always been harmful.

Walking back from my neighbor’s house this evening, I was tempted to leave the bouquet of lilacs on the doorstep of another neighbor—so she could have the pleasure of receiving as well. But I decided to keep these, as the sweet gift they are. I’ll bring some of my flowers over to the other neighbor later this week.

Helpful and helpable. I’m convinced it’s the way forward.

How about you? Are you gracious and helpable, or does it make you cringe on some level? I’ve been surprised by how pleasant it has been to shift this. And what a relief.

Wishing us all well,

—Tara

Something else to enjoy: my books: