Ever have one of those moments where you think you know how something is going to go, and then it turns out completely differently, but it still works to your favor?
That was my experience last week when I asked my facebook connections to vote on a video topic for a contest I'm entering. I asked them to choose between these two topics:
Hands down, the winner was #1 - in all but one group where the vote was evenly split. For whatever reason, people I know can really relate to the struggle of showing up fully as themselves - a malady I can SO relate with.
But here's the thing... both topics are really about the same thing.
It almost sounds like a dangerous idea, right? I mean, there are "blueprints" and "formulas" galore in the world. There are gurus, guides, and coaches who want nothing more than to sell you their 'proven system' to help you be "successful" in some area or another of your life or work.
Heck, I'm a mentor myself. I have systems and tools that I use and offer to others, so it stands to reason I could lump myself in that category, too, right?
I wouldn't blame you if you did.
The thing that I hope sets me apart is that I detest the one-size-fits-all approach that so many leaders laud. A lot of people tread that path, and in my experience that's where the mediocre are. Back in my direct sales days, there was a "technique" that was touted as a sure-fire way to get business: pass out your business card to everyone with a pulse. Does it work? Sure. Eventually. But it's painful, awkward, and gives you a bad reputation.
Cookie cutter "blueprints" have their place. Like making cookies, or building houses. You want to know, before you invest your resources, a reasonable idea of what the end result will be. But you can take one blueprint and build two "identical" houses and they won't even be close to the same. Why? Location, interior decoration, and other considerations that have nothing to do with the blueprint itself. Likewise, three people can take the exact same cookie recipe and have three dramatically different results. Why? Again, lots of considerations that have nothing to do with the recipe itself.
The difference in the house and the cookies lays squarely with the owner. Who's the one doing the building, the decorating, the baking? That's what's really going to dictate how things shake out. That's something most coaches and gurus don't take into account in their blueprints.
Frameworks are helpful, but you can't expect to duplicate someone else's success because you are not that person! Believe me. I've invested my share of cash into training, blueprints, and frameworks. Any time they're a step-by-step "here's what I did to be successful" approach, it falls flat. Because I'm not them! I've been coaching and training for almost 10 years, and while there are some common themes, every client is different. There are no two people, no two businesses that are exactly alike. Even in direct sales, where every consultant is selling the exact same product from the exact same catalog, the results are markedly different because of WHO is doing the selling and HOW they are doing it.
A blueprint or a framework can show you how, but it may not work for who you are. It's the underlying principles, the concepts, and the WHY this worked that matters. Once you know WHY something works, you can figure out HOW to apply it to your situation in a way that works for WHO you are.
It was my very first tagline and it's still true. You are the most important piece of the puzzle in growing a profitable, sustainable business. Without you, it's just another product, another service, another offering. You are what makes it special. But if you're spending all your time, money, and energy trying to fit yourself into the mold of someone else, you're missing out on your biggest opportunity for success.
Showing up as yourself more completely means being willing to own your shadow and your light. None of us - not even the well-paid gurus and muckety mucks of the world are perfect. No matter how much spit and polish they put on. We all have bad days, make poor choices, and then have to live with the consequences. Being willing to admit your imperfections takes courage, and a little vulnerability, it's true. What I've learned, though, is that when I am willing to show up as myself - warts, sparkles and all - it gives the people around me permission to show up as themselves, too. It's an upward spiral that perpetuates itself.
When I finish speaking in front of an audience, I usually hear two comments. The first is usually about my energy and enthusiasm. The second is about how refreshing it is to see me be so "real" on the stage. They appreciate that I speak without talking down, insulting their intelligence, or making them feel inferior. They appreciate that I'm not afraid to tell the messy stories of my life. It gives them confidence to share their stories - sometimes just with me, but often with a larger audience they've been nervous to talk to.
From my perspective, life is messy. We all know that, yet so many people try to pretend otherwise. Embrace your mess, maybe even love it a little, since that's where the juicy stories come from. That's what makes you relatable.
Don't be afraid to be yourself. It's a job no one else is equipped to do. (click to tweet)
That doesn't mean you have to air all your dirty laundry. I do my best to share my stories in ways that are helpful to others. I'm one of those people who believes that if you can learn from my mistakes, then you won't have to repeat them. I also believe that every choice I've made (for better or worse) has led me to this moment. That if there's something from my journey that can help you on yours, then I want to he able to share it.
We've all put on the brave face, the happy face, the facade that says everything's okay when it's not. But I'm talking about something deeper. You've heard me talk about "The Pretender" and "The Coward" before. One mask protects you from the world, the other protects the world from you. Yet, neither serves your highest good. You have to take off your masks to risk being truly seen.
When you know who you are, you aren’t afraid to admit who you are not. I'm not a scientist. That's my husband. When the kids come home with math homework, I quickly remind them I was a music major in college, so I can count to 12 and divide by 7, but that's about it. I know my limitations there. But it's easy for me to forget those limitations when I slip on the mask of what a good mom is "supposed" to be. I'm pretending. It's frustrating. And it's just digging my hole deeper.
Once you start wearing a mask, it becomes risky to remove it. Showing up as yourself means letting people see what you don't know, what you can't do, what you aren't capable of in this moment. That's scary stuff.
But it also means showing people what you do know, what you can do, and what you are truly capable of in this moment. That is sometimes even more scary.
I grew up in a "gifted" program full of smarty pants kids. We were all too smart for our own good and socially awkward. Most of us had one or two things that we really knew - we were smarter than even the smart kids! But if we dared to show our intelligence in that area, we were quickly brought down a peg by someone who was smart in another area - just to show us that we didn't know everything.
Sadly, that attitude doesn't leave us when we're adults. So being seen as smarter, faster, or better than someone else can become an equally heavy burden and scary proposal.
Masks, to me, are like McDonald's. Once you've seen it, you know what to expect. When you walk into a McDonald's you pretty much know what's on the menu, where the bathroom is, and how competent the counter help will be. On those rare occasions when they're offering a special menu item (remember McDonald's pizza?) it throws you off. Now you're not sure what to expect. That could be good or bad, but either way, you're thrown for a loop for a minute while you get your bearings.
Masks become a cultural shorthand. The problem is that humans grow and change, and masks don't fit forever. Try taking a picture of yourself when you were a child and wearing it around during the day. Unless it's Halloween, people are going to be thrown off. Why is this grown-ass person wearing the face of a small child? What are they hiding? Why are they hiding?
Peeling off the masks is a must-do. How can we fall in love with you if we can't see who you are? If you're wearing a mask, we're not falling in love with you, we're falling in love with the mask, and that creates all kinds of internal backlash and self-loathing. It's a vicious downward spiral that keeps us trying on different masks, hoping that one will eventually fit.
It takes guts, and tremendous amounts of courage to be true to what really matters to you. Lady Gaga takes a risk every time she steps out in public in one of her crazy ensembles. Yet, it's far less of a risk than playing small and not owning her outlandishness. If you fell in love with "small-playing" Lady Gaga, you just might have a heart attack watching her tramp around in some of her crazier get-ups. Her outspoken, outlandish appearance is part and parcel to who she really is.
To deny any part of you is to deny all of you.
You can't say "that's not my hand" when it's clearly connected to your body. If you deny the hand, you deny the body. Likewise to deny what's important to you (family, faith, travel, relationships, etc.), is to deny YOU. You can't deny a part of you. You're denying your whole self, because that "part" is woven into the very tapestry of your existence. It's a meaningful thread of who you are... whether it's a piece from your past, your present, or your future, it's every bit as important as every other part of you.
In the next few days, I'll be sharing a special gift with my subscribers to help remind them to remove their masks and show up more consistently as themselves. If you'd like to get it, be sure you're subscribed above. In the comments below, I'd love to hear your stories. When did you recognize you were wearing a mask? Did you choose to take it off? Why? What happened as a result? It's in sharing your stories that we lift each other up.
One of the things I really enjoy about the 300 songs project is taking requests. Several people suggested I give a listen to Joss Stone - an artist I'd never heard of. Yes. I live under a rock in a teeny tiny town in Midwest America. Don't judge.
I found a copy of her CD at the local thrift shop, which reminded me to check out her music. One song that really stuck out was "Less is More" - a reggae-funk tune that had a soulful groove. But all I could hear, the more I listened, was this ragtime back beat. So naturally, I went to Des and said "can you do this in a ragtime style?"
Yes. He most assuredly can, as today's video illustrates.
So for all you Joss Stone requesters out there, here's a ragtime jazzed up version to enjoy. I dare you to not be trying to Charleston before the end of the tune. The groove is that infectious.
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I chuckle now as I look back on my collegiate career. Convinced that I was "too poor" to be able to afford to hire a band, a graphic designer, or a business manager, I learned how to do all those things myself. I took classes in business, law, graphic design, and music. My first album (recorded during my time in college) features no other instrumentalists. Every track was laid down electronically. I mixed my own vocals, designed my own cover. I did have a friend shoot the pictures, but that was only because he had a camera and was willing to help.
Can you imagine the comic nature of me trying to set up a shot, run around to the back of the camera, set a timer, and run into the shot again? Don't laugh. I found myself doing exactly that in a recent photo shoot for The Sweet Browns - a vocal group I'm working with locally. I think we ended up taking that shot 4 or 5 times before I got situated in time for the flash.
In my family, it somehow meant we're weak, that we can't do "it" on our own... whatever "it" happens to be. I grew up in a family of strong, independent women, and had a pretty stubborn lineage of men in my life as well. We simply didn't ask for help. The downside to all that independence is that you pass it on. I watch my boys (8 and almost 18) think they have to have it all figured out. That they simply can't ask for help. They either have to wait for it to be offered, or they have to struggle through the frustration on their own.
(more…)This week, we're playing fast and loose with Billy Joel. Hopefully, I don't offend him.
I recall an interview - I think during his summer stint on SiriusXM this year - where he said that "Modern Woman" was his least favorite song.
Every entrepreneur I've ever met has a project from their past that makes them shake their head and sometimes cringe - in shame, embarrassment, or just because it's not where they are at this point in their journey. Like a bad Throwback Thursday picture (I'm about six, with braids like Pippi Longstocking), those old bits of our past are things we try to hide, deny, or just wish they didn't exist.
But, sometimes, in all our pouting and stewing, someone else sees beauty.
That was what happened for me when I remembered this piece.
"Ruthless People" was the first R-rated movie I ever saw. I was 11ish at the time. I think my sister and I told Mom we were going to see Karate Kid II (don't judge me!). Instead, we snuck our way into the theater and watched as Helen Slater and Judge Reinhold held Bette Midler hostage in their basement for most of the show. Bette's character has a turning point and she starts working out, lifting paint cans, and reclaiming her figure, her confidence, and her sense of self-worth - all in a classic 80's style montage with a soundtrack courtesy of Billy Joel.
As far as I know, Billy's never said why he doesn't like that song. But for me, the lyrics gave me hope: I didn't have to settle. I could be me, completely, and the right guy would appreciate me. I was one of those "early bloomers" - so I looked like a teenager long before I was one. There was a lot of angst that came with having boobs before any of the other girls in my class. And a lot of fear. I wore high-top sneakers - not Italian, but those two-tone Chuck Converse All-Stars were quite the rage in the 80's. I've always been independent. Came from a long line of independent women. The thought of dumbing myself down to appease some guy made my stomach churn - even at 11. I've loved Bette Midler ever since.
Interestingly enough, my husband is quite the "old-fashioned man" and it works.
I really like this song. It was one of the first songs I dreamed of re-imagining in a jazzy, swing style. It will definitely make the final cut of the new album. It was my way of saying thanks and putting my own spin on a tune that changed my pre-teen years (and my perspective on me and my relationships) forever.
"She's got style. She's got her own money. So, she's not another 'honey' you can quickly disarm." - Billy Joel, Modern Woman
If I were to guess, the synthy-pop and hard-driving, frenetic stylings of the original make it a difficult tune to enjoy much beyond it's 1986 birth date. But like so many things, the right setting can make all the difference. So Des and I slowed it down a little, gave it a swingin' groove, and I got to do a little scatting.
Who knows? Maybe Billy will hate it a little less now.
What if, instead, you allowed for the possibility that it wasn't your job to make it perfect, just to get it out into the world? What if the world needed you to create it so that someone else could appreciate it and do their own thing with it?
Can you be okay with that?
Sometimes we make the biggest impact by just showing up and doing the best we can. It's not about perfection, it's about contribution. Here's my contribution - with the help of Des. Enjoy!
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Sometimes we make the biggest impact by just showing up & doing the best we can (tweet this).
What does it really mean to be profitable?
With my newly-minted certification as a Profit First Professional coach (huzzah!), I've spent more than a few hours thinking about this question.
Profit First is a concept (and now a book) penned by business author (and my friend) Mike Michalowicz. The book drives home the point that most business owners make profitability an event (or worse, an afterthought), rather than a habit. Mike says "Shouldn't your profit come first?"
Um. Yes.
In fact, even a "for-purpose organization" (a term my friend Doug uses for non-profits) needs to generate positive cash flow in order to be sustainable.
Yet, so often, people bent on making a positive difference in the world think that focusing on profits is "icky".
*breathe*
There's a good reason for the ick. It stems from a very dismpowering definition of the word "profit". Let me explain...
Here's how we typically define "profit" today - courtesy of our friends at Google. The idea of "more" for the sake of more can leave heart-centered entrepreneurs feeling icky. We're not trying to get "more" all the time - especially not at the expense of people. Neither are trying to take advantage of others - or be taken advantage of ourselves! Yet the top two definitions of the word "profit" relate specifically to those two concepts:
For most of us, the word "profit" is synonymous with the word "money". They think about "rakin' in the dolla bills" and then rolling around in a pile of money like Scrooge McDuck. It's the "bottom line" of the balance sheet. It's the account balance, the number that's left at the end of the month when all the bills are paid - and before the next bill comes due.
Evil empires have hoarded it, conquered for it, and some companies have been built to focus on it (and only it) relentlessly.
No wonder we get all icky inside just thinking about it. After all, we're here to make a difference, to make a positive impact on the world. We want to make people happy, bring them joy, ease their pain, and we put the welfare of people ahead of money money.
We want to do good things, and all that ick, can't be good, can it?
We get mixed messages: loving money is the root of all evil, yet it makes the world go 'round.
Ah money, why do you vex us so?
What if profit had a wider, more holistic definition? Or is that too much of a stretch for you?
(more…)
This week's tune is officially the toughest tune we've managed to swing to date. According to Des, taking 80's pop and jazzing it out is about one of the most difficult departures you can do. I was kind of bummed when he said that, because I always thought of Huey Lewis and the News as a band that took some of the best elements of blues and pop-ified them so that more people would be able to enjoy it.
Lucky for us Des is on the case, because he managed to do a bang-up job. Huey Lewis and the News are one of my all-time favorite bands. Growing up I bought every one of their albums (on cassette, remember those?). I still have them, along with several of their tour books. Alas, no autographs yet.
I remember begging my mom to take me to their shows as a kid, but that was not something a welfare family had on their weekly shopping list. Somehow, I managed to win free tickets one year. Mom carted me and a friend 50 miles out of town to see them - grumping the whole way about the cost of gas. This week, they're coming to my hometown for the first time EVER, and all the good seats have been gone for weeks!
*poutyface*
So, as a tribute to my favorite band in the history of the world, and in honor of their visit to my hometown this coming weekend, here's our rendition of "I Want A New Drug". Stay tuned 'til the end and catch the new dance Des made up!
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For a few years now, I've talked around the idea of Undeniable Gifts: the idea that every single one of us has something unique, special, and just for us to share in this world. But I've never given it a post unto itself.
Until now.
You've heard it before: "the world needs that special gift that only you have" is a phrase with which Marie Forleo ends nearly every one of her MarieTV webisodes. It's the je ne sais pas that makes you who you are and me who I am. It's the USP of any personal brand.
And yet, so many of us grapple with the idea that we could possibly have anything uniquely ours to share with the world.
After all, everything's already been done before, right?
Perhaps. But I doubt it. It might be accurate to say the concept of nearly everything has been thought of at some point, but even that is a stretch in my mind.
100 years ago none of today's high tech gadgetry even existed. Who's to say what the next 100 years will hold?
I've heard it a lot - in my travels and with my clients:
"I'm a coach. There are lots of coaches in the world. I'm nothing special."
"I'm a direct seller. There are 1.5 million other people in this company selling exactly the same thing. How can I figure out what makes me special?"
"I've heard you say I've got something special about me, but what? I make great cookies, but that doesn't connect to my work!"
"I write books. There are thousands of books published every day. EVERY. DAY."
I get it. I'm not on the cutting edge of tech. I'm not likely to get major funding from an angel investor. Sure, I built one of the first-ever e-commerce sites back in the 1990's, but compared to the speed-of-light cloud computing of today, it was a veritable dinosaur. That wasn't my genius zone anyway. I learned a LOT of stuff in my journey (still do) that adds to my arsenal of awesomeness, but it doesn't really get at the thing I'm most gifted at. In fact, if anything, it just might get in the way of my genius work, because I've gotten so good at so many things.
My gift - the thing I think I do better than anyone else - is believe in the possibilities of people. It's both a blessing and a curse. It's great when a coaching client comes to me, willing to see what I see, and eager to work toward their dream while I hold space for them to step into that awesomeness. It's heartbreaking when I see the possibility of my own kid and he can't. And it's not just my kid. One of the biggest lessons of my life has been that I can't want "it" more for someone than they want it for themselves.
(more…)
Brace yourself. You're getting a couple of "firsts" this week.
I've been working on a musical mash-up for several weeks featuring Bob Dylan's "Make You Feel My Love" and "A Whole New World" from Disney's "Aladdin" - but it was missing something. It wasn't as easy to tie the tunes together as I had hoped.
Turns out, all I needed was a little Richard Marx. His tune "Right Here Waiting" gave me a nice piece to thread through the lyrics of the other two tunes.
This is the first musical mashup I've done with 3 songs. It's also the first musical mashup I've done with another artist. Des is fast becoming a staple in my studio, and I'm so happy to have him tickling the plastic ivories for me.
It's also the first "sight reading" clip I've shared. I've posted clips from early rehearsals before, but this clip is actually the very first time Des saw my notes for the song layout - he's the only person other than me to ever see them - and you can watch him take my notes and turn it into a real song - on the first pass. I've been plunking the piano for weeks, and he gets it this good in just one try. Granted, it's a rehearsal, and it's not perfect - there's a whole extra passage he added before we roll into the Richard Marx tune (watch him cringe!), but he's so good, even his mistakes sound decent! 🙂
This is why I beat my chest so fervently about focusing on your genius work. I could spend another 6 weeks working on this piece, and it still wouldn't sound as good as it did when Des just sat down and started playing. I get to sing and see my vision come to pass, and he gets to take the heavy lifting off my shoulders - or fingers as the case my be.
I edited the video a little differently, so you could see the whole run through - no cutting away - so you could be sure it was all played in a single pass.
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I've been wanting to write a post for a very long time about a concept I dubbed "the two I's". Inasmuch as we have two eyes through which we see the world, there are two "I's" through which we see the world: our divine self and our human self.
You can try to dodge them, but no matter how hard you try, you will experience the agony and ecstasy of both "selves" in your lifetime. I've talked about our Shadow self before. How the Coward and the Pretender protect ourselves from the world, and the world from us. How they are all part and parcel to our being. But I thought an incredibly personal example from my own upbringing might drive the point a little deeper.
It's probably a good thing my family doesn't read my writing much. Especially this week. I've written about my Dad before, but I don't usually talk about my Mom. That's because ours wasn't the greatest of relationships. While my Dad and I weren't exactly buddies, he wasn't around much as a kid, so he and I didn't develop the strong animosities that Mom and I did.
Dad was a Vet from WWII. He fought in the Asia Pacific Campaign on the island of Hawaii. I never knew much about what he did or who he was, since that was 30+ years before I was even born.
This past week, his replacement Army medals arrived. He earned a bronze star for his campaign medal, and I'm still not entirely sure what that means. In addition to the victory medal, also earned a Good Conduct Medal and a marksman badge for rifle (which explains the gun he kept in the closet when I was growing up). He also earned an honorable service pin. To look at all that regalia, you'd think Dad was some kind of war hero deserving of a halo and a front row seat in Heaven.
Perhaps.
This was the same man who, in his 60's no less, took my mom to abandoned houses to pull out and strip the copper wiring to sell at the junkyard for cash. Granted, that cash was used to feed his family and keep a roof over our heads, but breaking the law is breaking the law, no matter what the intention.
Lest you think Mom was some kind of victim in all this, she is the prostitute in the subheading above. Did you ever wonder what happens to prostitutes after they clean up their act and get off the street? I did, until I learned about Mom's "torrid past".
Back in the early 1970's, Dad was a cab driver. He was in his early 50's, married to a drug addict with two kids - one whom he'd sired and she another she brought to the marriage. To hear Dad tell it, he loved her, but she couldn't kick her habit, so he was looking for another "option". That's when he met my mom. She was this 20-something vixen - one of the few white chicks that hung out at an all-black bar in town where he liked to go between calls.
I never knew mom or dad to be much in the way of drinkers, so that story took me by surprise.
He knew she was earning money the "old fashioned" way, and decided he wanted to get her off the streets and clean her up. So he moved her into his house - with his wife and kids - under the guise of being a live-in nanny and part-time cabbie.
My mom, the undercover live-in lover of my dad, a married man with kids. The wife was too high to care, I presume. Then one day Dad was in the kitchen making wifey a sandwich. She OD'd right in front of the kids and died.
There was nothing to stop them from getting married, so they did. Mom & Dad eventually adopted both boys and went on to have both me and my sister - all before the end of Gerald Ford's presidency.
By the 1980's we were one big family - the kind that put the "fun" in dysfunctional (this picture is from one of the few family camping trips we all took together). My oldest brother (on the right) started stealing from the family. My heroic war vet dad would bind his hands and hang him from the wrists in the garage and whip him with a belt to get him to 'fess up. That put fear into the rest of us to not steal.
My other brother (on the left) decided that it was okay to force himself upon his much younger sister (me) instead. I didn't understand then why my Mother defended him. For years it was easy for me to see the darkness of Mom and the light in my Dad. Dad, the Angel, had left my mom because, well, she was the Devil. Nothing was ever good enough for her demanding ways. It was stressful, painful, and downright horrible.
After Dad and mom split up the first time, Mom took to the belt like a natural. It was an abusive, yet loving home - something you'd only expect to hear from a child of an abusive home. I'm pretty sure my extended family was somewhat aware, but nothing was ever done to my knowledge; no visits from child protective services as far as I know.
Then, in an effort to "make it work for the kids' sake" they got back together. That didn't last long. It was a painful mess of a relationship that colored so much of what my view on men, marriage, and family became for many many years.
It wasn't until I was an adult, with a child of my own, that I could really own that they were both a tangled web of shadows and light - like we all are.
As I approach my fortieth birthday, I look back and do my best to temper both the light and dark in my family. Fitting, since I'm biracial, right?
Amid all that darkness, I remember how my Dad would sit with me every week when my oldest son was still a toddler, and instruct and encourage me to be a better parent. How Mom attended and supported my sister's softball team in high school. The vacations and road trips we took to various parts of Michigan and the Eastern U.S. How they were both compassionate grandparents for as long as they were alive.
Those were good, glorious times: when Mom and Dad were letting their Divine selves shine through.
No one is perfect, in the zone, or "on" all the time. We see it played out when celebrities get caught doing something stupid, or a politician admits to some "corrupt" act. When I yell at my kids, swear at the driver that cut me off, or give credence to the "not enough" voices in my head.
On the other hand, our Divine nature calls us to live beyond our humanity. Wallowing in the "bad" things we do and resigning ourselves to our imperfection is a cop out. Saying "I told you I was trouble. You know that I'm no good." - with apologies to Amy Winehouse - is a cop out. We owe it to ourselves - to our highest good and to the people who need us to share our divine gifts - to keep showing up, warts and all.
When I meet someone for the first time that's previously watched my videos or read my blog, invariably, they say something about how inspiring I am because I have the courage to just show up as I am. That me "being vulnerable" is some kind of salve for them that gives them hope and courage to show up for themselves, too.
I used to think it was a back-handed way of saying "you could at least put on some makeup in those videos!" See how I couldn't even receive the compliment that was being handed to me? I was stealing from myself and robbing them of the gift of true gratitude.
Recently, though, I've noticed more and more people saying the same thing - as if my vulnerability is a gift I get to shine into the world for those who need it.
I'll be the first person to tell you I'm not perfect (my kids would probably be the second). It's part of why I don't show up with flashy videos and perfectly coiffed hair. My dishes are regularly undone, my house it quite often in disarray, and don't even think about looking at my desk right now - I'm not sure you could find it.
I've lied. I cheated. I've been "the other woman" - on more than one occasion. I've been mean, cruel, and just a downright "bad" person. And, as my favorite poet likes to remind us, still I rise.
Why?
Because my Divinity refuses to let my Humanity own me. Each day is another chance to stand up to the shadows of all my yesterdays, shine a light and say "screw you yesterday, I'm going to show up and keep trying to do better."
Not "do perfect." Do better.
My Humanity also refuses to let my Divinity own me. Because each day is another day for me to experience joy, emotion, respect, fear, lightness, darkness, faith, courage, happiness, anger, rage, and all the other emotions that are part of the human experience.
It's difficult to see the world through one eye. You're constantly craning your neck to see what you're missing. If you have two eyes, it seems senseless to cover one of them and pretend it doesn't exist. Why not put it to good use and see the rest of the world around you?
Why indeed. It's much harder to live life pretending you're perfect (or evil). You're constantly shift around to keep people from seeing the side you wish to ignore. If you have two sides, it seems senseless to cover one of them up and pretend it doesn't exist. Why not put it to good use and let us (and yourself) experience you showing up fully in the world around you?
"Sometimes, friends are as family." - an inscription from The Secret Watch
A couple of weeks ago, I took a trip to Great Barrington, MA, to reconnect with myself and some friends from an online group through which we all met. On the way, I stopped in Lewiston, NY to visit my friend and long-time accountability partner, Winnie Anderson (I'm working with her on a re-launch of my book). She was kind enough to let me crash in her guest room on the way out and then she and her charming husband took me to lunch on my way home.
I'm pretty blessed to have such amazing and supportive friends. I didn't see myself as someone with many friends a few years back, and that made my life's journey pretty rocky most of the time. As outgoing as I am, it takes a LOT for me to connect to and maintain friendships. For years, I'd wished it wasn't so difficult, and it's something I've spent time focused on improving. You'd think it would be easy for me to make friends.
Life happens. People get busy. I get busy. For years, I took that busy-ness personally - and assumed they did, too. What I've learned over the years is that the stories in my head often keep me from enjoying what life has to offer.
It's been something I've made a point to work on and work through - thus the trip to Great Barrington. This wasn't an easy trip for me. Driving 12 hours cross country to connect with people I've only met once before - and some of whom I'd never met before - has been a "scary story" in my head since I left home as a teenager. It's not the drive that's the problem, I actually enjoy that part. It's the meeting "strangers" part that gets me wonky. But that's another story for another day.
I'm counting my blessings and recognizing more often just how many friends I'm truly blessed to have - and now, I'm seeing them pop up all over the country. All because I'm willing to drop my judgments about myself and just show up and be me as best as I know how.
Guess what? People have a chance to like the real you when you take off the mask and stop trying to be someone you're not. That's scary at first, but really rewarding in the long-run.
When I hear this song, I think about how Billy Joel left LA - a place where he never really fit in - and went back to his roots in New York - on the Hudson River Greyhound line, no less. He was ready to stop pretending and start living life on his own terms. That's part of why this song speaks to me and is one of my all-time favorite Billy Joel tunes.
This week's video features photos from my trip - and all the wonderful friends that made it so valuable for me. Many thanks to Melanie, Nicole, Lou, Deb, and Trisha for all their photo taking, and their permission for me to share these wonderful pictures from our time together.
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