As Jane Goodall sat for her portrait, she told the artist that everyone made fun of her as a little girl. After finding the Tarzan book, and reading from cover to cover, she knew that he had married the wrong Jane, and that she would go to Africa, study the animals and write books about them. “How are you going to do that?” — really more doubting than asking. “You don’t have the money,” or “You’re just a girl.” “Everyone scoffed at my dream,” she said, “but not my mother.”

And didn’t I make it the same way? Without examples or funding. Seeing the wrinkled looks. The doubters of my chosen unchartered path. But never with my mother. I can’t even tell you if she was reflecting my dream, or I was reflecting her belief, but within her presence, I didn’t just imagine who I could be, I believed in who I was. 

…but who was doing that for her?

Maybe this is one of life’s greatest treasures. Finding your champion. The person who eventually teaches you how to become your own. Maybe it’s a parent, or educator, or friend. When you find it, hold on tight, then let go loosely. Because this is the gift that must be shared. 

When I painted the first portrait of my mother, she looked at herself and said, “That woman doesn’t look like she needs to be afraid of anything…maybe I don’t either.” We were each other’s champions.

Amid all of the day’s doubts, run loosely.