In fact, the birthday wasn’t much different from every other day this year. I had promised myself to take the day off, but it just wasn’t very convenient to do so.

So I walked the kid to school, and worked on website issues with my tech team, and dealt with a few “fires” that had to be put out.

It was pretty much an uneventful birthday.

At first, this did not set well with me. See, I’m an action taker – a DO-er – and sitting around NOT doing what I wanted to do kind of pissed me off.

Add to that the fact that my husband didn’t even have a birthday card for me that morning (he came home with one, though), and the day was NOT going to my liking.

I’m kind of crabby right now about my husband’s new work schedule. Last year, his schedule allowed him to pick our youngest son up from school each afternoon, giving me an opportunity to finish up my work before they got home, have dinner ready, and spend the evening doing at least one family-oriented activity together.

But now, I’m doing the dropping off and the picking up. At first, I thought I’d be okay with that (God knows I could use the exercise!), but yesterday was my birthday, and I was feeling a bit crabby about it, to be frank. In between, I’d squeeze in some “me” time by hanging out on social media and checking my email (yep, that’s what I do for fun. I’m strange. I know).

Well, my inbox (which hasn’t had fewer than 500 unread messages in years) had no less than three emails from coaching clients indicating a problem with the website.

Joy.

Now, I could have easily ignored these emails – I had told them I was taking the day off, after all. But that’s not how I roll.

You can scold me later. Right now I have a story to finish.

So I put the word out to my tech people to see what the dealio was. And then I started kicking myself for reading emails on my “day off”.

See? I told you to scold me later!

Anywho, the rest of the afternoon went by uneventfully, as I tried to step away from the computer and “enjoy” myself.

But I couldn’t. I was hurting too much.

I didn’t realize it until today, but that’s why I was glued to my computer.

See, pulling myself away from my electronics would have forced me to feel the uncomfortableness and isolation I was experiencing. It would have allowed the resentment, pain and tears to rise to the surface, and then I would have started bitching and moaning about how it was my birthday, and my husband didn’t even get me a card and all that crap.

Yeah. That.

And quite frankly, because it was my birthday, I didn’t WANT to feel that way. So I stuck my nose in my laptop until it was time to walk to the school and pick up the kid. We walked home. I read him a story, and I let him watch Netflix while I went back to trying to troubleshoot the website issue.

And then my husband walked in with a grocery bag. He was late coming home because he was at the store, picking up my birthday card among other things, and had forgotten that I wanted to go visit my friend Rhonda’s shop that evening. Actually, I have to take some ownership for that, because I didn’t put it on the calendar on the fridge. Mostly because I had been talking about it all freaking week.

So when he got home, I went by myself.

Apparently the City of Flint did not get the memo about it being my birthday, because there wasn’t a single place to park on the whole block. So I drove around and parked a block up.

I walked into the shop – bustling with activity, as I was there for a special event. A spirited gathering of spiritual seekers, this group was quite a cross-section of the community: young, old, black, white, wealthy, poor. It was a delicious mingling of kindred spirits.

THIS was how I wanted my birthday to be.

I’m reminded of the passage in the bible about the wedding, where “good people” were invited, but didn’t come, and how the king was so enraged, he decided to invite “just anyone” off the street who could get there to attend.

Not that I’m a king or anything of the sort.

But here, in a room of mostly strangers, they sang to me. And I cried, which is sappy, but hey, I’m cute like that.

It was sad and wonderful all at the same time.

It reinforced for me the need to create what I want myself instead of waiting for someone else to bestow it on my behalf. It highlighted how I’ve been using my computer to self-medicate and distract myself from really feeling what I’m experiencing.

It clarified so many things for me. My birthdays tend to do that.

So I’ve got some work to do. And the good news is that I’m not doing alone. I’ve been blessed with pretty cool friends – and apparently some pretty cool strangers – to help me on the journey. And you’ll be along for that ride too, if you’re here with me.

So what’s all this babble got to do with you? Well, think about this: where are you distracting yourself from really living your life?

Why?

What are you going to do about it?

I’m standing here, breathing in the final moments of the show.

Recalling the highlights, the laughter, the flubs, and the tender moments.

Reliving the looks on my actors’ faces at Intermission as I shared audience responses, technical issues, and notes regarding their projection, tone, and enunciation.

Bittersweetness washes over me, as the sounds in the room change: hammers pounding pins into flats, men hoisting the bar off the stage and back onto the floor. Brooms sweeping the floor, costumes being piled on the table, set pieces being returned to their homes in storage… and the chatter of the cast and crew as we wrap up, pack up, and clear away any trace of the production.

Strike always gets me.

It’s the completion of the circle of life of a show. We begin mostly as strangers, with a bare stage. We rehearse, almost in secret, in an upper room of the theater. It isn’t until the bulk of the set is present that we take to the stage and begin the process of bringing vitality to these two dimensional characters.

Then the lights, sound and music emerge, creating new challenges, adding new dimensions to the tapestry.

And the curtain goes up on opening night… and the friends I’ve come to know disappear as they slip deeper and deeper into their characters, becoming those people for a fortnight. Then, as quickly as they stepped into those roles, they’re stepping out again, pulling down set dressing, saying our goodbyes one last time.

It’s in this moment that I see the show’s “life” flash before my eyes – much like the flash of the camera as the show’s highlights are snapped off one after another by the photographer. I’m reminded that everything comes to an end – and in that ending, an opening is created for a new beginning.

But tonight, I enjoy the company of my cast and crew, our producer and managing partner. We celebrate a great review, the kinship of this rag tag bunch of actors, and relive some of the humorous moments of the show.

It will be a bit sad to head home tonight, and I know I’ll probably mourn this show a little. But right now, I’m just enjoying this moment, soaking in these wonderful people, this wonderful place, and all the memories we’ve created for ourselves and our audience.

We’ve touched people and changed lives. That’s something of which we can be proud.

I’m already thinking about what my next project will be, and how to make it happen faster, so I’m not living in the limbo. But for now, tonight, I’m here. Enjoying, drinking it all in, until the next circle begins.

Gawd, did I just say that?

I was sitting in a masterminding session when it hit me. I’m still reeling from the shock of the concept.
Is it truly possible for me to slow down, uncomplicate things, and still be successful?

Apparently someone other than my husband thinks so.
Several someones, actually.

As a member of Sarah Robinson’s Studio coaching group, I trekked to Atlanta for the second time in as many months, this time to sit in a very intimate group of business owners and focus on helping each other make forward progress in our businesses.

I will confess that I’m pretty good at this stuff – when it comes to helping others. I’m an idea firehose, able to leap small children in a single bound, and spout off concepts from different angles. I see LOTS of angles that other people don’t always consider.

As my teenage son would say, “That’s how I do.”

Yet, for myself, I was perplexed by four possibilities and unable to hone in on a single idea for discussion.
That, in and of itself, became the topic of discussion.

“Maybe you’re making it harder than it has to be.” said one group member.

Open the floodgates, why don’tcha?

For the next half hour, I was wiping my smudged mascara off my cheeks, as everything everyone said sunk in. I tried really hard to not take the “yeah, I know that” mentality, because I really wanted to honor the words they were sharing with me. I tried really hard to not say “yeah, but…” and I essentially made everything more difficult than it needed to be.

I resist the idea that the “Hard Way” isn’t the best way to do things. I’ve built my business, my life, as the bull in the china shop. Tell me I can’t do something? Watch me figure out a way.

And usually, it’s the hard way. But it’s worked for me so far – for the most part.

In this moment, what’s coming to me is a litany of hard luck, come from behind victories in my life.

I won’t bore (or thrill) you with any of them today, because here’s my epiphany: nobody gives you a medal because it takes you longer, costs you more, or it’s more painful, difficult, etc, to achieve your goal.

In the end, the only thing that matters is the result. If it takes you longer, or it’s harder for you, that’s just extra baggage you’re dragging around to complete the picture.

And by you, I mean me.

I carry my hard luck baggage around like a medal of honor. I talk about how I grew up in Flint, and almost brag about how I still live here – like that really means a hill of beans in terms of the success of my business or my life in general.

You know, if I can “make it” here, I can make it anywhere – and so can you.

What a load of hooey.

It doesn’t have to be hard. In fact it SHOULDN’T be hard – unless there’s really no alternative.

And that’s a foreign concept to me.

It’s like trying to describe a rainbow to someone that was born blind. They don’t get nuance, color blending, refraction, water droplets and light. All those elements that can be defined, but can’t be experienced if you’re blind.

And I’ve been blind to the easy way. For me, “doing things the easy way” represents chicanery – that fly-by-night promise of untold riches while you sleep: ”push button” profits and stuff like that.

It feels out of integrity, dishonest, and deceptive.

The fact of the matter is that success in anything requires effort – and sometimes a little hard work or elbow grease.

But another fact of the matter is that you don’t have to kill yourself to be successful. You don’t have to become a martyr to live the life of your dreams – in fact, it’s probably better if you don’t.

So today I’m learning to open up to the idea of effortlessness.

That, in and of itself, is hard to me.

So I guess in a backwards way, I WAS doing things the hard way. (work with me here, I’m a recovering “hard-way” addict).

I really have no frame of reference for effortlessness. About the only thing that comes easy to me is learning. In fact, some people say I’m obnoxious about sharing my knowledge. I don’t try to be. I really want to just help people not do things the hard way – because I’ve spent most of my life doing it that way myself.

There IS an easier, better way. I thought my job was to figure it out for other people.

Problem is, that’s hard, and it sucks – a lot.

So I’m done. Sort of.

Meaning, I WANT to be done. I want to give up doing everything the hard way – and I want to be able to tell my husband he’s right and I’m wro….

But the thing is, it’s easy to say “I’m done”. It’s another thing to cut all ties with doing and being difficult.
So I’m starting small.
I’m moving slower today. Just for today. I’m even being more intentional about the way I type. Being aware of the food I’m eating, the people I’m talking with. Trying to be more “here” – more present in this moment.

That’s hard in a whole different way. I find myself analyzing if I’m “doing it right” – as if there’s a right way to just experience the world around you.

Tomorrow is day two of this slowing down experience. And maybe… just maybe…

I’ll find the pot of gold at the end of this rainbow.