Posts Tagged "inspired action"

The Power of Slow

Posted by LisaYoung in Big Ideas | 8 comments

My five year old came up to me the other day and asked if he could have a motorcycle.

“Um, let’s see if you can figure out how to work the scooter you got for Christmas first, honey.”

Seems logical, right? But in the moment of watching his mini-tirade about wanting to “go fast” and “sit up high” I was reminded of my own tirades against “paying my dues” in the various professions and industries I’ve served over the years.

Wishes

Posted by LisaYoung in Faith | 2 comments

So my birthday is coming up fast… and for some reason, over the past few years, I didn’t enjoy my birthday like I used to.

It’s not because I’m getting older.

It’s because somewhere along the line, I’d given over my power to someone else.

I’ve been waiting for someone else to “make me happy” on my birthday.

Holding my breath in the days before my birthday to see what my husband was going to do to celebrate.

Waiting with baited breath as I unwrapped a gift hoping it would be something I was wanting.

Instead of taking charge of my own celebration.

See, I had always wished that someone would do up a big ol’ surprise party with balloons, a pretty cake, fun music and lots of smiles. I wished I would open presents galore, be surrounded by family and friends, and generally just feel a whole lotta love in the room.

But for all the wishing, there was no action.

Some years, husband manages to get me a card, sometimes not. Sometimes there’s a gift, sometimes “it’s in the mail.” Last year, I got so excite when my facebook wall was filled with birthday greetings. I spent most of the day replying, saying thanks. Somehow, I felt “loved” because so many people (most likely prompted by facebook’s birthday application) took a minute to give me birthday greetings.

It got me to thinking about where I had given up my power in my own life…

And I’ve been a fool to leave celebrating my life in the hands of others.

This isn’t about trust. It’s about valuing myself enough to ask for what I want and enjoy life my way.

Why in God’s name am I wishing for someone else to do something that I could easily make happen myself?

I can pick up a phone, invite my friends and family to come together and celebrate my birthday. I can select a gift for myself that I really enjoy. I can play wonderful music and I certainly know a friend or two that can craft an exceptional cake.

In my coaching practice, I talk about “the magic bullet” that clients come looking for – that panacea that will cure all their ills – the ruby slippers that make all the pain and effort go away.

In life, we can fall prey to this same concept in insidious ways: giving our power over to other people in our lives – or other people we want in our lives. Instead of taking charge of our own happenings, we “step back” and hope that someone will step in to handle something for us, when we’re completely qualified and capable of doing it ourselves.

“But it’s my birthday… I shouldn’t be in charge of my own party! That’s kind of selfish, isn’t it?”

Well, I’d rather be a little self indulgent and enjoy myself, than be a miserable “martyr” – wouldn’t you?

Plus, I’ve made a commitment to be more intentional about not living in the “shoulds”, thankyouverymuch!

2012 has a lot to live up to. I expect some amazing things to happen – and I plan on making as much of it happen as possible, instead of waiting around for someone else do “handle it” for me.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m still asking for help, making more friends, and doing my utmost to practice self-care. At the same time, I’m stepping back into that person I was years ago when I learned how to record and produce two full-length albums all on my own.

I’m ready to celebrate. What about you?

Relinquish

Posted by LisaYoung in Faith | 6 comments

We spend lots of time this time of year crafting, drafting, and editing our list of “resolutions” – which to me is hysterical, because our resolve quickly crumbles – often before the Chinese New Year begins (which, for those of you wondering, is Jan 23 in 2012).

So I gave some thought to what I REALLY wanted to let go of (once again, thanks to Amy Oscar’s amazing prompts), and created a list of ten things to stop doing in 2012:

The End of One Journey

Posted by LisaYoung in Faith | 0 comments

I was sitting in my mastermind session with @SarahRobinson, @TamiMorello, and @JudiKnight, over-thinking, as usual. In my mind, I was seeing a skydiver, preparing to jump. Words were swirling in my brain: About changes, and exploration, and things that had to stop, so other things could begin.

Judi started recounting a memory about a need to have time to explore, and figure stuff out before you could take a next step.

And in my brain, the image of a skydiver, timing the opening of his chute, came vividly into view.

See, a jumper can’t pull the rip cord as soon as his feet are clear of the plane.

There has to be some amount of freefall  - away from the plane, out into the open.  In one respect, freefall is actually a safety mechanism to make sure the jumper is clear of the plane.

Then, when the cord is pulled and the chute begins to open, the jumper is actually lifted up a bit, as the air fills the chute and slows the descent of the jumper.

Pull the cord too soon, and you could get sucked back into the plane’s engines (youch).

Pull the cord too late, and you end up splatted on the ground (double youch!)

Some jumpers count the seconds until the pull. Others enjoy the view on the way down. They explore the feeling of freefall and look around to see what’s on the horizon, etc.

This brought me back to Judi’s comment about needing time to explore.

Essentially, there are times in our journey, when we need to give ourselves permission to explore, to play the field, to experiment and figure stuff out. To try on new hats, and see which ones we like. We need an opportunity to journey our path of trials and see what awaits us.

I remember the scene in “The Princess Bride” when Westley is recounting how he inherited the “Dread Pirate Roberts” title. He shares with Princess Buttercup how he spent 5 years learning “fencing, fighting – anything anyone would teach him” and ultimately assumed the pirate role when his predecessor retired.

While I don’t think I need 5 years, nor do I want to become the Dread Pirate Roberts per se, it is time to assume my new role.

The Renaissance Mom is an important chapter in my journey. It’s my sandbox, my testing ground. It’s the place where I’ve given myself permission to explore, recreate, mold, scratch out and start over. It’s been a sounding board and a haven for the brain bombs that have kept me up and thinking.

There’s a point on every hero’s journey after they cross a threshold that the path of trials starts to come to an end. They’ve figured out how to defeat the giant, and the hero actually starts living the life of a hero. There’s a freedom and even a bit of ease about life again on the other side of the trials.

You need time to ramble and explore, to get bloodied up on the path of trials and test your mettle, if you will. That’s when you find out if you really do have what it takes to be a hero.

The Renaissance Mom has been my outpost, my “three broomsticks”, my refuge between trials, where I could document this journey and hopefully help others along the way.

And now, it’s time for my next Renaissance.

When I created The Renaissance Mom, I didn’t know for sure how it would turn out. I knew I wanted to help entrepreneurs, and I’ve spent the last year working through what that looks like and how the next evolution will manifest itself in the world.

That day is finally here.

No longer will you see me blogging here. The site will remain up through the end of the year, most likely, but no new posts are being planned. Eventually, even the 30 days to Renaissance will fade away.

Instead, I invite you to join me on the next phase of my adventure: Business Action Hero is obviously not a title that will resonate with everyone, but it’s an incredibly accurate representation of where I’m headed next. Having taking the last year to work on my own renaissance, I know it requires action, faith and a bit of heroism to be a business owner. Business Action Hero is my next evolution, and I’ll be there to help other entrepreneurs to become the hero of their own business, and navigate their own journey.

Until we meet again on the journey…

Hope Is Not A Strategy (Part Four)

Posted by LisaYoung in Big Ideas, Faith | 0 comments

Yesterday, we discussed living what you believe. Today, we talk about superheroes and the childhood dreams we may have left behind when we “grew up”.

This could get messy.

So @Sarahrobinson tweets about her son’s super powers. Then my pals @LIPDesign and @DanaReeves get into the conversation, which ultimately leads me to the “distracted” tweet I shared a couple of days ago. The crux of the convo was that Sarah’s kid was using his special abilities, and she, as an adult, didn’t feel as though she had the same skills in her present evolution. I believe the hashtag she used was #themomomentsIfeeillequippedtobehismom.

I think it’s safe to say we’ve all been there as adults. But it’s our own darn fault.

And it’s time things changed.

We walk around so consumed by “worldly” stuff – to borrow a biblical term. Bills, friends’ drama, family drama, our drama…

Drama drama drama! Save it for somebody else’s Momma!

I’m not saying we shouldn’t deal with that “stuff” that pops up in our lives. We definitely should. And we should ask for help when we can’t deal with it ourselves.

What I AM saying is that we use that drama as an excuse. A crutch. We let ourselves get “distracted” from our original dreams.

When we wore Wonder Woman Underoos, and knew we were invincible. When we tied Dad’s bathrobe around our neck and tried to jump off the garage roof. When we dared to believe in the stuff that really mattered: our dreams and the things we wanted to be about in the world.

When we were kids – like Joan of Arc – we were loyal to our dreams, our ambitions and the beliefs we held dear. Even in impoverished communities, little girls still dream of being princesses and living a life of “happily ever after”. Little boys still dream of “making big bucks” or “being a fireman” and “saving the world”.

To be frank, our world could use a little saving right now. Mostly from the so-called “grown ups”

So many of those would-be firefighters, teachers, doctors and princesses traded in their dreams for a 9-5 at the liquor store, not because they couldn’t do it. But because they didn’t see the patterns, and got distracted into a new pattern of “baby daddy momma drama” and wound up flipping burgers, or at the local stop-and-rob.

The simple fact is that for most of us that aren’t living out our happily-ever-after end game, there comes a point when you have to stop blaming everyone but yourself and decide: “Is this really the end game I want for myself?”

Maybe if we showed our daughters that in order to become a princess, they’ve got to have a smaller end game of meeting a prince (it does happen). Maybe if we encouraged our kids to save the world, we’d have a few more like Saint Joan.

And, perhaps along the way, they’d decide that it’s more fun to be president, or write books, or pursue a different dream.

Instead, they’re scrubbing the whole idea of having a dream in the first place.

Scratch that. They’re scrubbing the whole idea of LIVING their dream. They still cling to their dreams like Lola, the showgirl in Barry Manilow’s “Copacabana”: Bitter. Maybe even remorseful. Loaded down with regret and perhaps anger. Sitting there with faded feathers, remembering what could have been.

Is THAT really the end game you want for yourself? Are you still clinging to “hope” as a strategy for getting your happily ever after? Living with a lottery ticket mentality.

My husband says you can’t win if you don’t play the game.

My Mom said the answer’s always no if you don’t ask.

Joan said live what you believe.

I say ask, with hope, backed by a belief in what you’re end game is. That’s where we’ll pick up our super hero mantle again.

And with it, our dreams.