dream big

Have you ever wanted something so bad you could taste it? Like dark, black chocolate on the tip of your tongue, or a sour patch kid that made the glands in your neck ache? Like that visceral? Something so big it could change the trajectory of your life? (Although I don’t recommend putting that kind of pressure on, well, anything.)

What did you do?

Did you go after it, or did the courage run out of you like melted ice cream through a cone on a hot August day? 

I only ask because I took a shot as brazen as a half court toss at an ALL STAR  game, hopeful, no, make that knowing—that I would make the basket—NO net—and then I didn’t. You have to admire that about me. I have so much conviction in the most unlikely of circumstances. It’s either endearing as hell—or bat shit crazy. No one can decide.

Thwack! was the sound the ball made as it hit the headboard, or the backboard, or whatever they call that clear plastic thingy behind the basket that keeps the ball from killing the crowd. 

I hear it was a near miss, but it was a miss just the same. 

I tried to duck but the thing had momentum as it careened off my face, bounced once, and hit me in the gut knocking the wind out of me. That’s when I realized there was no ball or missed throw, I had probably just swallowed my Adams apple on account of disappointment.

The crowd laughed. Not really. Nobody said a word. 

Even the voices in my head had the decency to take a short coffee break. And if you ask me, that’s why the feeling of having failed on an epic scale only lasted a few seconds. No peanut gallery dared chime in. They just let me marinate for a sec. When I regained my breath I read the email again. It was so fucking polite and encouraging it almost made me forget they’d rejected my work. Almost.

Maybe reject is too strong a word. They took a pass sounds better. Less soul crushing.

“We hope this “no” lights a fire in you to chase that “Yes”! Were their exact words. Who’s soul can stay crushed when they put it that way? Not mine, that’s for sure, especially since I’m profoudly NO challenged. Always have been. Cannot take it for an answer—EVAH!

Someone much wiser than me once said, “Disappointment is taking score too soon.”  And being a retired “scorekeeper” I immediately tried to tally how many years I’d wasted, until I ran out of fingers and toes and then I just decided I had to take that advice to heart.

Besides, when is no ever really no? I mean in my book (the only one that matters) it’s always been the placeholder for not yet.

I’m not gonna get into the weeds with this thing, I’m only here to encourage everybody to take chances in their lives. To get into the game. To do the hard things. To feel scared. To stretch like a goddamn piece of saltwater taffy. I’m not gonna lie, the sting of rejection—yeah, it hurts, but it only lasts a second, like a flu shot. And even though a part of me felt like shit, a bigger part of me was absolutely EXHILERATED!  Because for me, knowing that I never even tried was unacceptable.

Ask anyone who’s had any success and they’ll tell you about all the times they got knocked down to the ground. But, honey, at least they were in the arena.

Since at my age, unless you’re attempting something extraordinary you rarely, if ever, hear the word NO, (seriously) I have had a pretty amazing day processing all of this. And I have to say that as the disappointment faded, the void that was left was filled with something unexpected… pride. For having the audacity to dream as big as I did. 

All of this to say, you guys, please don’t live small, afraid of the pain. DREAM BIG! You can take it from me, it’s not gonna kill ya, l know that because last time I checked—I wasn’t dead.

Carry on,
xox

Do you walk into a room and get the luke-warm treatment?

xox

 

It feels more important in these buzzy, blurry times when branches of our government and many of our larger institutions have managed to sidestep accountability regarding their actions and decisions, that we, individually, must be held accountable.

Sorry, I’ll get off my soapbox now, but…
We can’t ask it from someone or something else if we’re not willing to answer the hard questions ourselves.

Before we step off the sidelines and onto the “playing field” of life, someone should hold us accountable.
What do we hope to achieve with our action?
How can we best express our vision?
What do we think we can add to the world?

That last one is the doozie because we already have enough “takers” in the world, we need the big-hearted “givers” right now. We ALL have something special to give. That I know for sure!

Also, to clarify, this does not mean to shout, or comment or tweet mean-spirited, non-constructive criticism from the sidelines. That is not making someone accountable, that is bullying. Ask intelligent questions, engage in a dynamic conversation. Don’t be a coward. Don’t be “that guy”.

I recently got inspired to start a group for “women in transition”. I’ve been talking to people one on one for a while, but a group? Even though the thought excited me, and even though I was encouraged to do so, I hesitated for months. I wasn’t sure I was ready to come out from behind the anonymity this blog provides…to get on that “playing field” so to speak.

But you’ve got to gear up and take that first step.

I did follow my intuition long enough to start to write the email I would send out.
I tweaked it a little bit every day, adding and subtracting things to better express what I wanted to say.

Then I sent it to someone I KNEW would hold me accountable, big time!
A few days went by without a response, and believe you me, I started to sweat!
Even though she had been encouraging me all along, I knew she had the ability to read between the lines, to feel the intention inside the words, and bust me on any BS.

She’s also highly intuitive so the day I was freaking out the most, she called…from her sick bed.
Am I surprised? No! Well, maybe a little, she has NEVER called me in the four years I’ve known her.

Here’s where it gets kinda funny. I had just been wondering if I should offer wine at this group. Just a thought, but it had just crossed my mind and I have to say, I had already decided it was a bad idea.

I guess the Universe found that thought so repugnant, that it roused my poor friend from her sickbed, to call and tell me this:
I love that you’re doing this.
Be clear. You are not offering a wine and cheese bitch session. (Got it!)
You are to apply the energy you have to drive evolution forward.
You are to approach this as a $10,000 a day life coach would, and drive a dynamic conversation. 
Got it? I’m tired, I’m going back to bed.

Gulp. Now THAT is holding someone accountable, and I love her for it!

I rewrote the email accordingly and (deep breath) finally sent it out.
Her response this time?
“Welcome home”

Who holds you accountable?

XoxJanet