Recently, I wrote a piece about taking a gamble and reaching out to a big deal person to try to get him to agree to come on Daily Dose of Dr Marry & DD. He agreed, and we were scheduled to pre-record over zoom last night at 5pm.
I was excited. This was a really big leap for our little program. I worked hard all day to not let my mind wander to places that were too grandiose. After all, we had 30 minutes with this man, and the great majority of that was going to be talking about his journey to sobriety. There wouldn’t be much, if any, time to wow him with my as-yet untapped star power.
But the mind goes where the mind goes. And despite my best intentions, I fantasized about him saying, “You’re really something. Let’s schedule another conversation because I can think of a million different ways you should be giving talks, writing content, sharing your story. And I’m going to help you do it.”
I felt at once silly, am I never going to outgrow the Oscar speech dream!, and ready for the Universe to open wide and pour down the opportunities and blessings that I have worked diligently to be ready for. To not be at all surprised by this because, after all, this is what I have been manifesting all along, right?
As it urned out, however, I didn’t have to worry about how I was going to react to his invitation to work further with him because we never got to meet him, much less razzle dazzle him.
A few minutes before our start time, I opened up zoom and logged in. Nope. My account wasn’t recognized. Never mind that I had been on and off zoom all day with absolutely no problem.
I tried another account. Nope. That one wasn’t recognized either. I had used this one various times throughout the day as well.
I started to sweat.
At 5:03, I sent our guest a message on LinkedIn to say we were having technical difficulties. He wrote back: Will give a few more minutes and call it a valiant effort. 👋🤩👍
I’m not proud to say I lost my mind. Poor Dr Marry worked diligently to problem solve, but there was nothing to be done. Technology “won” the day.
He was there, waiting for us–see the photo of his computer screen to prove it. And we were blocked from connecting with him because of a technical glitch that makes no sense.
At 5:10, I knew we weren’t going to connect and that this one golden opportunity had passed us by.
I wrote to apologize again.
He responded: Things happen. Keep rocking and being a bright light to many.
And that is that.
We won’t hear from him again; my tenacious, slightly audacious shot turned out to be nothing at all.
What do I do with that?
What in the world was the point, Universe, of dangling that fabulous carrot in front of me, of letting me get the tiniest nibble of it, only to snatch it back again, keeping it in my line of sight but absolutely out of my reach?
So I go back to my place of lifeless, flat gloom. The place I might be most likely to dwell if I ever allowed my natural tendencies to actually take hold of my mental state. From this vantage point, the dull, rough, wind swept, scrub land goes on until my eye can’t see any further. And the gravel path has no inviting bends or dips. Just one long, gray path to travel, on and on, seemingly to nowhere.
Pity party for one? You bet.
I’m so tired of hacking away at the scrub brush and feeling like it’s getting me absolutely nowhere. I have this voracious appetite to be all that I know I can be, all that I believe I am supposed to be. And yet, it’s like I’m being served thimble-sized portions. And the clock is ticking, and I just don’t have the patience to keep being so small when I know I am actually gigantic.
And the Universe must be laughing at my feeble attempts at barbaric yawping.