That Song by Fleet Foxes, or, The Changing Face of Mentorship

When you walk away from an environment, it acutely changes your relationship to that environment in a way that's akin to grief or injury, even if you're the one who walked away. Like the Giants winning a game, I'm always shocked when friends or relatives drift back into my life after a time, and I try not to think about their motives. I also try not to think that they are there to stay--I love the stories of others which means I get needy enough to want to see all of the details and the ending. I've had to let a lot of endings go.

I'm sure that others have had to let my endings go, although I never think of myself as having disappeared from anyone's life unless that's what they want. The dynamic works a bit differently with mentors. With mentors I am of the constant fear that I'm going to smother the life out of them by continuing to revisit the well for guidance, which means I tend to have an even greater arm's length between myself and them. I guess this implies lack of trust on my part, but it really stems from working to not inconvenience anyone from childhood forward.

I've had two prominent mentors in my life--the Good Doctor and the Airman--but I'm learning to do two things as I watch them drive farther and farther away:

• I'm learning to regenerate their voices (sort of on the same premise as "What Would Jesus Do" kind of thing)
• I'm learning to find small slices of mentorship in strangers

The first one worked well for these first four months, because I could nearly conjure up the person. With the Airman it was a piece of cake because I am still in a year where at some point I received his guidance, and with the Good Doctor it was easy because iTunes has a series of his lectures on video for FREE (sacrilege) for me to watch anytime, and his message hasn't changed much since I graduated from college in 2000. This method for both gentlemen seemed to work well for the loneliness that sneaks up behind you and bites you when you take this path in your career, so it served as a security blanket of sorts.

I find I have to let the security blanket go. There's no reciprocation--and I tend to be broken-hearted when I don't have the same impact on others that they have on me. I am forever indebted to both of them for how they helped shape me, but at some point aren't I supposed to take the tools they gave me and propel myself forward, instead of borrowing their wheels all the time? So I'm moving on to the next stage--finding mentorship in listening to everyone and taking the guidance that I need in slices. My mentor can be an author, another blogger, an agent, a children's book critique book--heck, I've even gleaned from photographers and librarians recently, and not just for writing. What am I looking at and what do I lend? Well, anyone can help me if I just listen to them.

Gone are the days of following one person like a puppy--I'm sure that got old for them, too. But here are the days that they taught me to watch for, the people they taught me to watch for, the experiences they taught me to embrace.

*****

In Missouri I mentored a lot of folks at Bass Pro Shops and Alltel, which gave me some sense of satisfaction in the fact that mentorship is an aspect of teaching, which I will love and proclaim that I love like beating a dead horse through all of time. But when I reached California I suddenly felt that my ability to mentor went right out the window--most people didn't want to follow me, and those that did did so for reasons of looking good at reviews. In my last position at Grainger I was a fish out of water--and had a hard time managing without becoming mommy and, subsequently, resentful mommy. Let's put it this way--I wouldn't have wanted to lead anyone down my path.

But in the last few weeks, leading these writing groups and workshops, I've found that when people see I have another group meeting scheduled, they come to the session. There are, in fact, some new members that are following me to every session all over the City.

Maybe they're looking for a mentor in their quest for writing companionship. I have to say at this point--I'm ready and I want to share. Maybe that's the third bullet-point of the evolution.

Onward, dear reader.

P.S. - This song is where the inspiration for today's post of Life For Rent comes from. Save for the fact that I was never taught as a kid that I was unique. That I figured out later...thanks to a mentor or two.