So the Hamlet analogy can only go so far since the ending is not something to aspire to, but the point of hesitancy is something very real to consider. How do other people make bold moves with so little certainty of the outcome? And what is it about the potential of success or failure that I’m afraid of?
Think about the name of Ms GO’s book. Limitless. Without limits. Too often, we put limits even on our free writing, brainstorming and dreaming, as if what we articulate will be seen and judged by others, seen and judged by ourselves. You are allowed to dream as big and wild as you want. In fact, I not only encourage it, I demand (in as much as I can demand you, the unknown reader) you to go all out. The only thing you will “waste” is some ink and paper.
The struggle, at least for me, is giving myself permission to take the time to enjoy even one little sip before I must be off trying another one. I feel immense pressure, mostly self imposed, to find the “right” flowers–the ones that pack the most bang for their buck, so to speak. Is that articles, podcasts, videos, books, creating my own content? Do I need to go within and get quiet, or do I need to make a great big public ruckus? Is it better to try to gather the tiniest bit of nectar from as many flowers as possible, or should I find a way to limit my reach but drink more deeply from fewer petals?
Like my haircut, most people won’t even notice we’ve been unconnected. We’re all busy in our own lives, managing (or attempting to) our own obligations. One friend fewer, one missing social media feed, is unlikely to raise alarms in anyone’s life, but what it’s already done for me, how I’m feeling, is infinitely valuable.
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?
In many ways, I did become a widow that night. I did lose the husband I had had from May 31, 2008 to February 1, 2017. That man began a six-week journey of dying and being reborn simultaneously, Phoenix-like. And, actually, I did, too.
In keeping with my last post/commitment to growing my network, I want to share this not-so-small victory. I […]
Then & Now When I started as Executive Director of The Arts Partnership in 2010, I was pretty […]
My next retreat is February 19-21, and there are spaces available. I hope you’ll sign up. But if you don’t, I’m still going to do the work because I care, it’s generous, helpful and absolutely worth the journey–mine and yours. But I can’t control your journey, only mine. So I’m here.
But as I reread the emergency alert, I wish for one half of one second that we had curtains. And I hesitate to even write that because Dr Marry will use that sentence against me for the rest of our lives together. But it’s true.