success

Hi you guys!
Here is this weeks Huffington Post essay. It has to do with failing BIG and making peace with it.
So much so that I sat down and wrote it a love letter:
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/janet-bertolus/my-love-letter-to-failure_b_8198096.html

If you know anyone going through a hard time right now who could use this, I’d love it if you’d share.
Carry on,
xox

My dearest, darling Failure,

You don’t mind if I call you by that name, do you?

I’m well aware that it’s much more politically correct to refer to you on your visits as re-direction, contrast, disappointment and, of course, correction, blah, blah, blah.

But when shit hits the fan, when careers crash and burn, when marriages end badly; when we get fired, sued, or otherwise fucked over — when the things we hold dearest in our lives fracture and give way under the stress — sweetheart, it’s YOUR face we all see at the scene of the crime.

I know, I hear you when you complain that you are greatly under-appreciated but let me be clear — no one wants you around!

That being said, as I’ve come to know you better over the past few years, well, I have to admit– I’ve fallen for you…hard.

I don’t mean to sugar coat things, but you came into my life with the face of my foe and you have become my friend.

You shook things up for me BIG TIME. You took my tiny Etch-A-Sketch of a life, with all of its perfectly drawn straight lines, and you hurled it into an F5 tornado.

But I love you for that, ya big lug.

Just uttering your name, Failure, can set a person’s teeth on edge, but please don’t take it personally. I’ll give it to you straight. The reason you’re not welcome in our lives is because we’re all terrified that when you show up you’ll get comfortable, and never leave.

But truth be told, you are just as fleeting as success, THAT you’ve taught me.

When you are standing next to me knee-deep in the rubble of my life, you know what I do the next day? I get up and put one foot in front of the other, each step moving me forward.

You know what I do the days Success holds my hand? I get up, put one foot in front of the other and move forward with my life.

Success has its value — don’t get me wrong — but you Failure, your lessons have marked me more deeply and profoundly than I could have ever imagined and I love you for that.

Success never caused me to grow, gave me depth nor made me an internally richer person.

But by God, you have Failure.

Success made me lazy, afraid to try new things and take chances.

You gave me a glimpse of my true nature.

You have delivered to me some of my most agonizing moments but they have transformed me.

You made me better. Better in business; better in life. A better friend, sister and wife.

Damn it, I love you man.

We all go to extraordinary lengths to avoid you–I know I did–but I realize now that was a mistake.

It’s like trying to avoid aging, which is a similar double-edged sword and just as futile.
There are as many benefits to be gained from failure as there are from growing old, and BOTH are a privilege.

I truly love you Failure.
If you had not come into my life when you did, I would not be the person I am today.

Big hug and a sloppy kiss,
xox
Janet

Okay you guys, Ta da da da! Another video!
This time around it’s on a subject a few of us have been throwing around lately.
Getting out there.
Being seen.
Sharing all of your delicious gifts with the rest of us.
What’s your nugget?
What’s your Sphere. Of. Influence?
Interested? Take a look.
Love you!
Carry on,
xox

No Luck editing…THAT is a resting DUH face, accompanied by sign language!

You guessed it! Out takes:

86 the glasses!

At Abraham on Saturday, a woman was relating to all of us how wonderful her life has become.
“Except for this one thing,” she said as the smile faded from her lips. “I feel like I’m blocked, like there’s something in my way.”

Well, shit, (we all let out a collective sigh), who hasn’t felt like that?

Sometimes I feel so blocked, so constipated with worry over an implied detour or an actual closed-door in my face, that I pray for a cosmic laxative.

“What if there’s nothing in your way? Really. Because there isn’t.” Was their answer. (Cue collective gasp).

I’m not sure why you guys, but I got this on so. many. levels. I really heard it. It’s the only note I took during the entire seminar.

So of course I took my own life situations and immediately ran them though that familiar filter. I’m going to call it THE FAILURE FILTER.

Desire: Write a book. Easy right? Sit down, gather inspiration, type your ass off and viola! Book!

Enter—The Failure Filter: (The failure filter is always a diatribe, a monologue, a compilation of all the worst case scenarios, and it goes something like this)—

Ughhhhhhhh…yeah, sure. You wrote a book. Big whoop. Join the crowd. Now you have to find an agent. A good agent. A successful agent. An agent who loves your book as much or more than you do. Then said agent has to get you a publishing deal. A real deal. Not some bullshit deal, no, something lucrative and prestigious. Then they’re going to edit the book. You have to pray for a good editor who is also a decent person, because they’re going to change…every word. You won’t even recognize the finished product. They’re going to change your book to their book. The book they’ve aways wanted to write. Then you have to get testimonials. From other successful authors in your genre. Oh yeah, that should be a breeze! Then the book cover, you’re going to hate your book cover—everybody does. Publicity. don’t even get me started on publicity! Do you have a platform? Ten thousand followers you say? Why don’t you have one hundred thousand? Or Five Hundred thousand? Kim Kardashian has over forty million and she co-authored a N.Y. Times best seller. You better get on that.
Then it has to sell. People have to actually pay money and read it. FUCK! I feel blocked—like there’s something in my way!

I could run my screenplay, musical, latest great idea; basically every creative endeavor AND my relationships through that Failure Filter and you know what?

I wouldn’t start them.

I would be tempted not to finish them.

My energy and enthusiasm would stall and any creative juices I had left would dry up. Can you say constipated?

Besides you guys, all that stuff we think is blocking us—it’s made up shit. Let’s just file this under the giant heading: LIES WE TELL OURSELVES.

Yeah, you could say all of that is real, that you do have to chase a book deal…or do you? I know people who have been approached by publishers! Seriously! EVERY deal is different. Anything can happen!

Believing the bullshit and staying blocked separates the weak minded from the…not so…weak minded. You can quote me on that.

And this applies to not only writing, butanything in life.

There is NO THING/NOTHING is the way.

WE are the only one’s in our way. Its OUR thoughts, beliefs and general bullshit thinking that blocks us!

Let this post act as a cosmic laxative to unblock you and get out of your own way.
I did and I feel better already!

Love you, Carry on,
xox

http://www.abraham-hicks.com/lawofattractionsource/about_abraham.php

A law practice.
A medical practice.
A dental practice (ugh).
All of those make me shudder.
Still practicing? Really? Or continued mastery? Getting better at it all the time?
Often it’s not clear. I think I’ll come back when you get good.

Is it me or should they should change that?
Spiritual Practice.
Nobody suffers when you haven’t mastered tolerance; forgiveness; or downward dog. Or do they?

When you talk to anyone that’s mastered…anything, all they can tell you regarding their success is that “they put in the time.”
Nothing happens overnight.

I can be a lazy slug, and I love instant gratification—so I’m pretty much screwed.

According to the excerpt from this groovy article below, even talent won’t skip you to the front of the line; which if you think about it makes sense. If you’re good at something chances are you have no resistance to a shit-ton of practice. You’ll rack up your ten thousand hours in no time!

So here it comes: I’m newly committed to this anomaly; this control freak Kryptonite—this thing called…SURRENDER.

And just like in the old days, when I used to suck at meditation; I’m willing to put in the time. But unlike meditation where you commit to sit twenty to forty minutes a couple of times a day; you guys! it is literally a minute by minute commitment!

I know that it will most likely take me the rest of my life to feel as if I have the hang of this, but I’m willing to put in the practice.

That is until I see something shiny—then all bets are off!

Ten thousand hours is a rule of thumb that gets thrown around a lot. If you practiced every hour of every day it would take you over four hundred days to reach mastery according to this theory. Which is why “an hour here, an hour there” WOULD actually take a lifetime.

“How you do anything is how you do everything.”

Falling in love with Practice. I think THAT’S the key. Repetition over repulsion (I just made that up!).

Just some Friday-Food-For-Thought. It’s where I’m at right now.
Practicing acceptance.(Wait. What? Why can’t I have what I want, when I want it?) Practicing ease and flow. (Wait. I always thought that was a legend—yet there are some that say it exists) Practicing surrender. (Wait. Did that guy just cut in front of me?)

Carry on,
xox

10,000 Hours of Practice

In the book Outliers, author Malcolm Gladwell says that it takes roughly ten thousand hours of practice to achieve mastery in a field. How does Gladwell arrive at this conclusion? And, if the conclusion is true, how can we leverage this idea to achieve greatness in our professions?

Gladwell studied the lives of extremely successful people to find out how they achieved success. This article will review a few examples from Gladwell’s research, and conclude with some thoughts for moving forward.

Violins in Berlin

In the early 1990s, a team of psychologists in Berlin, Germany studied violin students. Specifically, they studied their practice habits in childhood, adolescence, and adulthood. All of the subjects were asked this question: “Over the course of your entire career, ever since you first picked up the violin, how many hours have you practiced?”

All of the violinists had begun playing at roughly five years of age with similar practice times. However, at age eight, practice times began to diverge. By age twenty, the elite performers averaged more than 10,000 hours of practice each, while the less able performers had only 4,000 hours of practice.

The elite had more than double the practice hours of the less capable performers.

Natural Talent: Not Important

One fascinating point of the study: No “naturally gifted” performers emerged. If natural talent had played a role, we would expect some of the “naturals” to float to the top of the elite level with fewer practice hours than everyone else. But the data showed otherwise. The psychologists found a direct statistical relationship between hours of practice and achievement. No shortcuts. No naturals.

Sneaking Out to Write Code

You already know how Microsoft was founded. Bill Gates and Paul Allen dropped out of college to form the company in 1975. It’s that simple: Drop out of college, start a company, and become a billionaire, right? Wrong.

Further study reveals that Gates and Allen had thousands of hours of programming practice prior to founding Microsoft. First, the two co-founders met at Lakeside, an elite private school in the Seattle area. The school raised three thousand dollars to purchase a computer terminal for the school’s computer club in 1968.

A computer terminal at a university was rare in 1968. Gates had access to a terminal in eighth grade. Gates and Allen quickly became addicted to programming.

The Gates family lived near the University of Washington. As a teenager, Gates fed his programming addiction by sneaking out of his parents’ home after bedtime to use the University’s computer. Gates and Allen acquired their 10,000 hours through this and other clever teenage schemes. When the time came to launch Microsoft in 1975, the two were ready.

Practice Makes Improvement

In 1960, while they were still an unknown high school rock band, the Beatles went to Hamburg, Germany to play in the local clubs.

The group was underpaid. The acoustics were terrible. The audiences were unappreciative. So what did the Beatles get out of the Hamburg experience? Hours of playing time. Non-stop hours of playing time that forced them to get better.

As the Beatles grew in skill, audiences demanded more performances – more playing time. By 1962 they were playing eight hours per night, seven nights per week. By 1964, the year they burst on the international scene, the Beatles had played over 1,200 concerts together. By way of comparison, most bands today don’t play 1,200 times in their entire career.

Falling in Love With Practice

The elite don’t just work harder than everybody else. At some point the elites fall in love with practice to the point where they want to do little else.

The elite software developer is the programmer who spends all day pounding code at work, and after leaving work she writes open source software on her own time.

The elite football player is the guy who spends all day on the practice field with his teammates, and after practice he goes home to watch game films.

The elite physician listens to medical podcasts in the car during a long commute.

The elites are in love with what they do, and at some point it no longer feels like work.

Here’s the rest of the article and their website.
http://www.wisdomgroup.com/blog/10000-hours-of-practice/

The Lost Art of Humility

*This is an essay from last summer that a reader reminded me of recently. I agree with her wholeheartedly. We need more of this humility thing and not the fakity-fake kind, but the real, heartfelt, makes-me-weak-in-the-knees kind. Here’s to you Kylie; The Lost Art of Humility.
Carry On,
xox

I saw an interview recently of a young, huge hit maker, music industry mega star.
I can’t for the life of me remember who it was. For the sake of this post I will call that malady: menopause brain. It is similar to pregnancy brain, or so I’m told. I used to have total recall, but since 50 that has gone the way of perky boobs and flat abs.

Here’s a funny or sad story, you decide. I was talking to my sister the other day, on my cell phone, while rifling frantically through my purse, looking for my cell phone. I told her I had to hang up and try to find my phone, so could she please just call it so I see if I could hear it ring? There was just silence on the other end. I’m sure she was dialing the looney bin on her land line, to come and take me away. When I realized what was happening, I laughed so hard I almost pee’d my pants. Ugh… I’m turning into my mother.

Anyway….this young guy displayed a trait you don’t see much of these days in the mega famous. Humility.
It was so refreshing, it was like a glass of ice water in hell.
When asked how he felt about all his success he said, “I would not be here if it weren’t for the people around me.”

What?!

The interviewer pressed on: Well, what about this great thing, or that great hit? That’s just talent, right?

The very humble star continued,“I had a music teacher in middle school that saw something in me, if he hadn’t, who knows where I’d be. I wasn’t good in school, I would have fallen through the cracks.
I had a mom that believed I was special. If she hadn’t, I might still be back in Virginia, doing who knows what. I had a mentor, a producer that took a chance on my first CD. It wasn’t successful, but it allowed me to learn. If I hadn’t had that experience, I wouldn’t be where I am today.”

Those people changed the trajectory of his life and he is forever grateful.
I fucking love that.

There are too many stars, too many successful people, that buy into their own hype. They start to forget how things began, how they evolved, and all the people and the steps it took to get to the top.
They have no desire to pay it forward. They pay tribute to no one. They are legends in their own minds, because everyone tells them they are. They are surrounded by “yes” men and women who are all on the payroll.

They can’t find the time to mentor; they’re too busy looking in the mirror.

None of us are ANYTHING without the people around us.
I’ll take it a step further. We are all CONNECTED.
As one person is raised up, we are all raised up.
Come on people, let’s all remember to look back and lend a hand.
To pay tribute to those that saw our potential, even when we couldn’t.
To affirm humility above bravado.

Don’t get me wrong, I love me some bravado when it’s earned, but for God’s sake, if you had a mentor; and you probably did; mentor someone in whom you see potential.
Pay it forward.

Success is tenuous and delicate. Don’t take it for granted.
I’ll say it again. We all are NOTHING without the people around us.
You know who they are. They give you the support, the confidence, the love, the big breaks.
Give them some props man!

I had a music teacher, Ed Archer, who saw vocal potential. I had a sixth grade nun, Sister Mary Gabrielle, who instilled the love of learning and books. My mom said I could do anything, she was my mom so I believed her. My husband thinks I’m funny. He’s French and they think Jerry Lewis and the Three Stooges are funny and I don’t; but I’ll include him anyway. These are the ones that immediately come to mind, I know there are more. Stay tuned…

Tell me whatcha think. Who changed the trajectory of your life?
Who has been your biggest champion, believer, mentor?
Who saw/sees your potential?
Tell me about it.

XoxJanet

I wrote this back in February, but with all the changes afoot and mercury retrograde, and the fact that change is MESSY, I decided hat we all needed a little reminder that things often look awful just before they get good, so let’s celebrate that, okay?
On the private Facebook page of that kick-ass online business school I took last year, a post caught my eye.

I try not to read them.  I barely understand them.  I’m neither “cool” enough nor smart enough to be a part of this group.  I slid in through the side door, the “blogger” who created her own website and then limped off to throw up. I just barely recovered, my brain hurting from the overexertion.

Anyhow..
It was written by a young man, an aspiring entrepreneur, whose boyfriend had booked a fancy, shmancy weekend away.
They were headed to a beautiful warm weather resort, with massages, fine dining – the whole shebang.

The intention behind the trip, his boyfriend told him, was to celebrate his best year EVER.

In his endearing, aw shucks way, he admitted to us, his tribe of up and coming internet movers and shakers, that this had been less than a stellar year for him.

“I didn’t hob knob with the rich and famous this year” he said. “No high level meetings, no mastermind groups, no Ted talk or speaking engagements at all. Instead of multiple six figures, I lived off savings.”

He went on to explain that 2014 had been a year of reinvention for him.

He took what appeared to be a thriving business and changed it up, downsizing some things, while reinvesting in others. He went on to explain that he’d spent the whole year at his desk with his hands in the clay. “If anyone wanted to find me I wasn’t on the road as usual, running from event to event, I was at my desk, from dawn to dusk, and I have never grown and changed, and worked harder in all my fucking life.”

Would he have labeled it his best year EVER? Probably not. Because the yardstick we all use for that doesn’t take into account anything besides the money and fame.
The outside trappings of success.

But his boyfriend could see it. He understood. And he knew it needed to be celebrated. Don’t you just love that?

I could SOOOO relate!
I too have had the best/worst year of my life. By the standards set by society at large – it sucked.
But in laying the foundation, the hard work, the networking, perseverance, personal growth and general all around richness – it was my best year EVER!

My husband has witnessed the changes and repeatedly suggested that we celebrate them.

How lucky am I?

Wouldn’t it be great to pay homage to those years that don’t look so great from the outside but change us forever on the inside?
Because isn’t that what makes a person a true success?

Thoughts please?

Carry on,
xox

I never thought of myself as a late bloomer until recently.
But I most certainly am.

And I don’t just mean someone who found a new life’s passion in their fifties, which by-the-way, has been a big surprise.

No, when I think about it, I was alway one. I didn’t get it right in the relationship department until I hit forty-two, and I didn’t start a real profession until after I turned thirty.

It didn’t even occur to me to channel my focus and dive into antiques and jewelry until after that pivotal birthday.

Turning thirty was the proverbial line in the sand that I had drawn for myself. I was the  deadline to get my shit together and measure how close I was to my desired goal, which back then was a paying acting gig.

I had some income trickling in from TV commercials, but I was always in debt, living a deficit life.

I worked two jobs to make ends meet and that was all right –– until it wasn’t.

Most of my friends were still in school, working at real jobs or having kids. It didn’t look like it but I was seeking fertile soil with my face to the sun, trying to bloom.

Not too much later, I had a real career, making real money. By the time I was forty I bought my own home.

Then in my fifties I started writing, or rather, the writing began to pour through me, and this little seedling has not only broken ground, it has started to blossom.

Some days I wish I’d started writing in my twenties, I can only imagine how much further along I’d be. Then I remind myself that everything happens at the exact right time –– Divine Timing –– and I stop my daydreaming and get back to work.

Late bloomers; blooming later in life;  it’s a subject I’m starting to embrace.

Read the New York Times article below if this subject interests you, and you will feel in such good company, I assure you.

They say the key is the ability and willingness to try new things.
I can sum it up in one word: CURIOSITY.

Remaining perpetually curious will facilitate a bloom later in life, and aren’t the flowers that show up after it snows the most beautiful?

Carry on my late blooming loves,
xox

http://www.nytimes.com/2015/03/21/your-money/finding-success-well-past-the-age-of-wunderkind.html?emc=eta1&_r=1

The other day my sweet, beautiful friend was mourning the death of her perfect FICO score.

She had been like a lot of us. She had done everything right. She watched her debt, bought her own house, payed her bills on time, even paying most of the balances in full every month – then disaster struck.

No, not the Great Recession, although I read an article in 2010 that said something like 80% of our FICO scores took a hit. (Gasp)
Nope.
She decided she’d had enough of her soul sucking job. She pried the fingers of the corporate world from around her neck and made a break for it. It was never her intention for her finances to be less than stellar, but sometimes shit gets real, and now, several years later, after the dust has settled, her FICO score sucks.

I have another friend whose ex-husband drove their relationship and her pristine FICO score off a cliff and into bankruptcy. She’s worked really hard to build it back up and overcome the shame of it.

There is a lot of shame attached, like a scarlet number is etched on your forehead.

This pissed me off! These are both incredible women. These are not bad check writing, run-up-the-credit-cards-on-late-night-internet-binge-shopping, kind of girls. And I know about twenty more.

Guess what ladies. YOU ARE NOT YOUR FICO SCORE.

Sometimes when you embark on a new life things get trashed, thrown into the chipper. Divorce, layoffs, mortgage under water, illness.
One of the things that can get caught in the collateral damage besides your pride, may be your FICO score.

People, it’s okay. Your score may have taken a beating, but hey, you’re still a good person.

I remember being so proud after I met my husband and we transferred my house into both of our names. The banker came out flushed and grinning ear to ear, looking like he’d just had illicit sex, (because to those banker types, FICO scores are a BIG turn on) anyway…he announced that our scores were in the high 700’s – one number apart. He refused to tell us which person had the higher score, which was smart and proved that the blood was returning to his brain.
I’m sure he could sense that we were competitive.
Listen, I just assumed it was my husband since he is methodical, thrifty, and exhibits self control – and he assumed it was me – for no good reason other than he loves me.
That’s why this marriage works.

So…you can imagine my colossal dismay when after doing everything right, for so many years, after my store closed – my FICO score plummeted.

Debt ratio, plain and simple.

Some poor slob at Chase, mentioned the number once when I was feeling particularly vulnerable (otherwise known as 2010-11), and I screamed and went into the ugly cry. My response was so over the top they checked to see if it was a mistake. Then, after they could see that it was not, they stood far away from me, nervously twisting the piece of paper. Where minutes before their eyes were filled with judgement, now they were looking at me with eyes full of pity.

“So my life took a U-Turn! Don’t look at me like that – bitch!”
I AM NOT MY FICO SCORE!

And neither are you.

These fucking numbers keep us enslaved in a world of potential disapproval, like a judgmental parent.

“Oh, don’t leave that job it might lower your FICO score.”

“Geez, your funding that business on your credit cards? Isn’t that going to ruin your FICO score?”

“Shit, your house Is upside down, what did that do to your FICO score?”

Hey, I’m not advocating ruining your credit with nasty, irresponsible deeds. I’m just sayin’ to those of us that were uber-responsible:

Investing your definition of yourself in something so unforgiving is emotional suicide,

AND…
I think it’s a racket.

I for one was a slave to mine. I stayed too long in a job I should have left, I hesitated accruing debt in my business when the recession hit, (the people I know that did are still standing) and then, in the end, after being such a good girl, the very thing I feared the most – happened.
I got slammed, owing everyone in the world money.

I went to the bank. I pled my case. I pay all the minimums.
Too bad – tough luck – bye, bye…

FICO is like a toxic relationship. We give it our money, our attention, our loyalty and it doesn’t return the favor.

It issues us a number that defines us, like a teacher on report card day.

It’s been almost seven years, which is when you are issued your Get Out Of Jail Free card.

But I’m already free and so are many others like me.
Truth be told, I don’t look at it anymore, I haven’t for years.
I decided that with the limited amount of fucks to give that I still have left, (thank you Mark Manson, you can check out his essay on The Observer’s Voice Facebook page) I shouldn’t waste giving a fuck about this kind of stuff anymore.

Nope, we are not our FICO scores.

What a relief.

xox

Me love this BIG time! Me use bad grammar. Me need coffee.

Happy Sunday – because NOW you are Fail-Proof!

7. YOU DON’T TAKE RESPONSIBILITY FOR WHAT HAPPENS IN YOUR LIFE

Yeah, fuck people like that.”

To read the rest:

http://markmanson.net/why-you-fail

xox

INTENTIONAL
in·ten·tion·al
inˈtenCHənl/
adjective
1. done on purpose; 
synonyms: deliberate, calculated, conscious, intended, planned, meant, studied, knowing, willful, purposeful, purposive, done on purpose, premeditated, preplanned, preconceived

I’m not someone that does year end resolutions.

As a matter of fact I haven’t met a resolution I didn’t obliterate. If they lasted past January (which they didn’t), but if they did, they would be sure to crash and burn before making into the first week of February.

You know who you are expensive gym membership, French lessons, books taunting me on the nightstand.
I’m just not that girl.
Kinda like giving things up for Lent. I sucked at that too.

What I do like to do, and believe in doing; is to set an intention for the New Year. That I can do.

I meditate the day before and again on the morning of the first – with purpose.

You can just sit quietly in your favorite chair in your jammies and cosy socks, with your eyes closed, that’ll do just fine.
Then pick a feeling you want to feel. Can’t think of one?

Imagine an obstacle or problem – solved.
How would that feel? Like relief? Freedom? Joy? 

Imagine that stubborn project completed. Pride? Relaxed? Accomplished? Feel that?

Imagine your knee or shoulder or back, free of pain. How do you feel? Strong? Healthy? Vital?

Pick an emotion and marinate in it while you sit and breath. Pull it with you into 2015. Call it forward. Be deliberate. Do it on purpose.

If your mind strays (and it will) dive back in and marinate some more.

As you marinate it will tenderize you, I promise.

If you can stay in it for five minutes, congratulations! If you can do more, you’re a super star!

Be intentional for 2015.
If you believe that we create our reality (like I do), you don’t have to imagine the specifics of the events of the year – just hold the feeling.

I’m going for satisfaction. It is my Holy Grail. I can admit that I am almost never, truly and deeply satisfied. I could do/be better. There is always more that could be written/said/done.

That will be my intention this year, to feel satisfied.

How do you want to feel in 2015? Would you want to share?

Loving you into the New Year,
Xox