And as you stand there
Hands clasped in front of you
Eyes downcast
Concealing the disobedient pounding of your heart
It dawns on you:
Here we go again.
And while you no longer allow yourself the long, elaborate
daydreams in which everything works out perfectly,
You catch yourself thinking: Well, it could happen.
And though you have long since given up making bargains
with God,
You find yourself whispering: Please.
And since you have — years ago — quit telling
Anyone anything about anything
Because honestly,
The things people say, such as,
“Oh, it will happen for you, I just know it!”
Really?
“I have a friend who went through the same thing and then one
day, just like magic. . .”
Really?
“The minute you stop wanting it, that’s when it will happen.”
Oh. Okay.
So you haven’t told a soul.
Except, after long consideration, your very dearest best friend.
And you know the odds are against you.
And still
You know that life is not a numbers game and
The Lord does, indeed, move in some very mysterious ways and
Haven’t you earned —
And there you stop short.
Because life is also not about earning or deserving,
And it doesn’t matter how hard you’ve tried or how much you’ve
sacrificed or how positive your positive mental attitude has
been.
What matters is reality.
And reality says: It’s possible.
So you dwell in possibility.
Between the dark and the daylight.
No longer storming off, slamming doors, and swearing, “Never
again.”
No longer crying out in agony because you had been so sure this
was It.
No longer elated by another promising sign.
You are here now.
Committed to enjoying the ride.
Trusting in the friendliness of the universe.
Awakened to your heart’s desire.
Knowing that there is no such thing as false hope.
All hope is real.
Real. Hope. Now.
It’s all we have.
And who knows?
Perhaps the best really is
Yet to come.
Here’s another hard truth: your talent doesn’t entitle you to anything.
You will not be surprised to learn that talent is not enough.
Every artist is (or believes herself to be) talented.
Talent is the price of admission, kids.
You’d be amazed how many agent/manager/gallery owner submission letters say, “I’m very talented and I think we should work together.”
You’re talented? Whoopee.
I mean, seriously, you’d better be. You’re going to look pretty silly calling yourself an artist if you’re not talented.
So it’s time to move on. You’re going to need to offer more than just that.
Another problem with getting too hung up on talent is that artists sometimes feel indignant because they feel — hell, they know — that they are far and away the best, most talented person for a particular job, and yet they don’t get selected.
That can be a bitter pill to swallow.
It’s hard knowing you’re the best choice and still be passed over.
But I have noticed something: people don’t always make the best choices.
In the same way that you don’t always choose the best food for your body, or the best shoes for your feet, or the best television show to watch, other people don’t always choose the best artist for the job.
The world might be a better place if we all read only the highest quality books, only screened the highest-quality movies, and only drove the best, most efficient cars.
But “best” is not our only criterion.
Sometimes convenience counts.
Sometimes what’s in fashion is important.
Sometimes it’s all about what’s sexy.
Sometimes a person wants a little schlock — a little artistic junk food.
Sometimes cheesy is perfect.
What’s best is not only relative; it’s often irrelevant.
So cut the people a little slack — you wouldn’t always choose you, either.
And as you stand there
On time and Appropriately clad for the event
With a high-fiber bar in your bag
And extra pens
Let us take this moment to applaud you.
You, the prepared.
You, the accomplished.
You, the bills-paid-on-time and the-taxes-done-in-March.
You, who always returns the shopping cart.
You, who never throws a tantrum.
While the moody, the irresponsible, the near-hysterical, and the
rude seem to get ALL the attention
Let us now praise you.
Just because everyone always expects you to do well.
Does not make it any less remarkable
That you always do so well.
So thank you.
For picking up the slack
For not imposing
For being so kind
And mannerly
And attending to all those pesky details.
Thank you for your consideration,
Your generosity,
For always remembering and never forgetting:
That a job well done is its own reward
That the opportunity to help someone else is a gift
That the complainers, the crybabies, the drama queens, the never-use-a-turn-signals, the forgetful, the self-involved, the choleric, the phlegmatic, and the your-rules-don’t-apply-tome-types
Need you to rebel against in order to look like rebels.
You provide the lines — for without the lines, well, what would they color outside of?
So take a minute To pat yourself on the back
And say, “Job well done.”
And as you consider someday
Showing up stoned
Or unprepared
Or not at all
And as you imagine someday being imperious
Or demanding
Or the one with the temper
Hear the unspoken “thank-you” from a
Grateful nation that is a
Better, smarter, calmer, easier, friendlier, and more organized place
Thanks to you
And your dogged diligence.
You are beautiful.
You are precious to us.
You are the hand that calms the water, the wheel that never
squeaks, the one we all rely on
And while you probably would have remembered to send a thank you
note,
We forgot.
And just because everyone always expects you
To do well
Does not make it any less remarkable
That you always do so well.
And I would tell you to take the afternoon for yourself
Or sleep in tomorrow
But I’m pretty sure you already have plans.
So just take this very moment right now
To appreciate you
And all that you have done and done well
Even by your own high standards.
And remember:
You are beautiful.
And just because everyone always expects you to
Do well
Does not make it any less amazing, delightful, or delicious that
You always do so well.
I should have done things differently.
Now it’s too late.
I’ve missed my chance.
I screwed it up.
I should have known.
I say: baloney.
You did the very best you could do under the circumstances and with the information you had at the time.
Honestly, I’m not sweet-talking you with some feel-good mumbo jumbo here — I’m serious.
As I’ve said, in my experience everyone is always doing the best they can do — and if they could do better, they would.
So we need to bless the past. We need to settle in to the reality that the past cannot be any different from what it is.
We need to look back and realize that we have, indeed, always done the best we knew how to do — even when our best wasn’t very good. And that if the universe is friendly, we can assume it’s all been, somehow, correct.
We can wish things were different, but we might as well wish the mountains would walk down to the sea, because in this very moment, they can’t be any different.
Sometimes something happens that hurts us so deeply we think it can’t be right — it must be bad. We do something awful to someone we love. We ignore our intuition and we stay in some bad job, relationship, or situation longer than we should.
We are caught in some life circumstance that feels just horrible. I’m not saying we should paint those situations pink and call them cheerful. That would be diminishing, disrespectful, and cold.
You are allowed to feel as hurt as you are, as angry as you are, as sad as you are, as disappointed as you are.
Do whatever you need to do to express those feelings in a safe way:
bash the mattress with a whiffle bat, pray, cry, run, write, sing, apologize…
If you need help to move through those feelings, for heaven’s sake, set aside your pride/skepticism/reluctance and get some. And once we’ve worked through all our emotions, we are still left with the truth: the past is what it is, and it cannot be different.
Often, having discharged our pent-up emotion about the past, we can even see how it really was for the best — how whatever happened was a valuable (if painful) lesson for us, and we can genuinely feel grateful for the experience.
Even in the case of loved ones dying, well, we have to know that as much as it saddens us to lose time with our beloveds, we all have to die. Even with everything we know about medicine and prevention and safety, illness, death, and accidents still happen — in just the same way that unlikely healings and miracles and near misses still happen.
So we are humbled by our lack of control, and we bow our heads and still our hearts and say, “It is what it is.” And it cannot be any different, no matter how hard we wish it were so.
We can cling to the fantasy that it’s possible to change the past, or we can declare the past the past, deal with our current feelings (whatever they may be), and move on. The past is what it is, and we can move on from here.
ACTION STEP:
Repeat after me: I can move on from here.
Photo credit: Khánh Hmoong via photopin cc
“It’s big, R.J.! Big!” says the screenwriter to the old-time Hollywood producer.
Your vision may also have first appeared to you in breathtaking Cinemascope and stereophonic sound.
But you may be paralyzing yourself with the grandiosity of your vision.
Reducing the size of your project might free you up.
So rather than trying to create an international convention of lute lovers complete with presentations, performances, and a trade fair, perhaps you could host a gathering in your home for ten to twelve lute lovers.
This strategy is especially effective for test-driving Big Ideas.
I once had a client named Virginia who had dreams of opening a dance studio. Before she knew it, she was knee-deep in commercial real estate brochures and cumbersome questions about insurance and employee compensation. She was, to put it mildly, discouraged.
After some discussion of what about her initial idea had so engaged her (“working with young artists,” “bringing spirituality and dance together,” and “giving real, practical help and advice — after all, I was a dancer, too — I’ve been there!”), she realized that she could begin by offering a one-day intensive workshop.
Her church would be happy to rent her a space very inexpensively, and suddenly the idea of only having to get fifteen dancers in a room for one day seemed very doable.
Eventually, Virginia did open a dance studio that focused on the intersection of movement and spirituality, but she ended up doing it through her church, thus saving her a million administrative headaches and allowing her to focus on the part of the work that truly inspired her: teaching.
Increase the Scope of Your Project
Maybe you’re stuck because you’re bored. You’ve been thinking too small.
Perhaps rather than trying to sell your jewelry at local craft fairs, it might be more exciting to sell your items online to a global audience of moneyed fans.
Maybe rather than auditioning for the local community chorus, you’d like to book an evening at a piano bar and offer your very own one-person cabaret show.
Try this: Write down a number-related aspect of your goal, then add a zero.
So if you’ve been thinking you’d like to make $10,000, what happens when you open up to the idea of making 100,000?
If you’re working on selling five or ten of something, what does selling fifty or a hundred look like?
Rather than trying to grow your email list a person at a time, what if you found a way to grow your list a thousand people at a time?
Thinking big gets you out of your self-imposed limitations. You stop thinking about what’s possible for you to accomplish on your own, and you start thinking about what’s needed for this quantum leap to happen.
“What does the project need?” is a much more fruitful question than “How do I do this by myself?”
Ask any successful creative entrepreneur her secret and every single one will tell you, “I got out of the way of the vision.”
Action Step
Write down three to five variations in scope of your project and see which size project feels like the best fit.
(Note: Don’t worry about what you think you are capable of doing; just pick the one that makes your heart go thump thump thump and live with the idea for a while.)
After you’ve done the exercise, come back and leave a comment. I would love to see what you came up with!
It isn’t the prettiest aspect of your personality, but there it is: jealousy.
Ick. How very seventh-grade of you. But all of us, no matter how far beyond seventh grade we’ve gotten, feel jealous sometimes.
And here’s a news flash: jealousy is a gift.
Jealousy is your gut’s way of telling you that first of all, whatever it is, you want some. And moreover, you believe that you could have it. After all, you are never jealous of those who have things you don’t want.
Imagine that your best friend just added an amazing rare frog to her rare frog collection. Feel jealous? I didn’t think so.
If you have no interest in frog husbandry, you don’t feel jealous. Mystified, maybe, about why she might want to collect frogs to begin with (in much the same way your family might feel about you and your choice of a career in the arts), but in no way jealous.
Now, if that same friend suddenly lucked into an all-expenses paid six-month artist’s retreat in a villa in Provence, you might feel jealous. Because that, you want.
This is part one of the gift: the simple acknowledgment of desire.
I don’t know about you, but I sometimes pretend that I don’t want what I want. I pretend that things are okay with me when they aren’t. I pretend to be patient when I feel impatient. I pretend I don’t mind being passed over when, in fact, I mind very much.
Have you done that? Tried to quiet that “I want” voice? Hurts a bit, no?
The second half of the equation, and perhaps the more important half, is this: you believe you are capable of getting it. You are only ever jealous of things you believe you could do or have yourself.
What if your frog-loving best friend just swam the English Channel? Still not jealous, are you? Of course not, because not only do you not want to do that, but you also don’t think you have the ability.
But if that friend wins an award in something you think you could do, or reaches some milestone you aspire to, or obtains some neat thing that you’re pretty sure you could obtain if only the circumstances were right, then that green-eyed monster light is likely to start flashing.
Exercise : Harnessing the Power of Jealousy
Jealousy is a signal from within about desire and will. Add a little anger (also known by its polite name, frustration) and the recipe is complete.
Again, it’s not pretty, but it is an important message from your inner self — ignore it at your peril.
So the next time you find yourself trying to muzzle that nasty little voice of jealousy, take a moment and ask yourself:
1. Do I want that?
2. Why do I want that? What will getting that thing mean
to me?
3. Do I think I could have it?
4. What do I think is standing in the way of my obtaining that?
5. What fifteen-minute baby steps could I take today toward
that?
See if making a little progress toward your own goals doesn’t turn that jealous-monster voice into a happy-cheering-look-at-me go voice.
Keep making those baby steps toward your goal, and I bet that someday soon someone might just be jealous of you.
