Just a thought… Our biggest problems as human beings is knowing that we don’t know. [Virginia Satir]
Welcome to a brand new week. Grab that second coffee or tea, as you may just feel a little bit behind the ol’ 8 ball, having missed an hour’s sleep over the weekend.
I know that back in the days of my pre-dawn alarms going off, it took me about a week for my body clock to adjust, like taking something that’s already upside down and then shaking it around a bit – and that’s what I got.
I’m so grateful for the uninterrupted sleep I get after 30-plus years of those rude awakenings, and for the rest of my life, I will continue to say a silent thank you when the room is lit naturally when I awaken.
Still, we set an alarm yesterday so as not to miss our weekly video chat with Colin and his mom and dad (with the occasional cameo appearance from his beautiful baby sister). We’re already planning activities for our May visit and are quite literally counting the days.
Three years in, this is what reWirement is about now for Rob and for me: having joyful things to anticipate with excitement. Looking ahead instead of looking back; trying to make that “opportunity meets preparedness” saying come true and just waiting for a bit of luck to put it all in motion.
Maybe making that happen by doing dozens of auditions for voice over jobs every day, working on an interview-based podcast for a real estate association that launches next month and mulling over prospects for speaking engagements.
(Some good news there: I’m signed on a trial basis with Speakers’ Spotlight, Canada’s largest booking agency, in hopes that that turns into a long-term thing. I’m also in talks with another one as we endeavour to spread the book’s message of optimism and deciding what direction your life takes after a huge chasm breaks open.)
We can hope. We can wish. But sometimes we need our angels to come in and sprinkle their magic: those people who believe in you, aren’t afraid to hear the words “no, thanks” and then try again. I want to tell you about my friend from Vancouver Island, Nancy Wood.
She’s the person in my life who gently pushes from behind, saying, “What have you got to lose? You can do this!” The person with the voice we should always be hearing in our own heads anyway.
Nancy has reached out to a Palm Springs area library that does some amazing reading events (Rob and I tried to attend one a few weeks ago, but it was full of library patrons who’d gotten there first). So, at her behest and after she made e-introductions, we dropped off the only soft cover version of Mourning Has Broken that I have.
A box of them awaits in BC, but for now, I had just the one and I hope it’s found a good home and that I’ll be speaking at the Rancho Mirage Public Library next fall.
Nancy has also reached out to the organizers of Michelle Obama’s speech in Victoria at the end of this month, suggesting my talk for an “opening act” if you will. As you might expect, we got that dreaded two-word response, but I did put on my big girl Spanx and follow up with an offer of the code for the Youtube video of the 30 minute version of that speech. To that, I got crickets – no response at all – but I guess that’s to be expected.
It’s a lot to ask someone to watch a video and perhaps we need a shorter version. I’m new at this. And, God, I hate asking people to take time out of their day for something. I knew that feeling when I was in radio and I felt an obligation to do what they asked. But this is the real world, where people have their own agendas and, if I’m not part of them, then that’s that.
This self-promotion stuff is hard. I share the odd picture or post on social media when people send me shots of my book in stores, like this one:
(Thank you so much for this!) But I hear a voice in my head saying, What, this again? The other voice says, Well, honey, if you don’t promote it, who else will? and while the two battle it out, I just click SEND. Who knows what other angels – the Nancys out there – will see them and think, Hmm…maybe we should talk with her and hear what she has to say? We can always hope, right?
What it comes down to is this: I’m searching for a purpose. That thing in life to make me feel like you once did – full of direction and fire and excitement and butterflies. That thing that makes you know you’re doing what you’re put on this tiny blue dot to do. Getting back on that race horse.
I don’t think I was ready for this feeling to sink in, to be honest. I’m in that deeply uncomfortable place of not knowing, and while the universe keeps telling me to be patient, my mind has the horses all lined in the starting gate, bucking and twitching and ready to go.
When is the next race and where will it take me? And will that gate open again?
Perhaps the answer is this: appreciate the beauty of the day and be grateful for the life that brought me to where I am today – whether the words “and they’re off!” are ever heard again.
I can try.
Have a beautiful day. And if you’re looking for me, I’ll be the terrified, unusually tall jockey with the number 8 on her silks, Depends in her breeches and riding a horse called Angel. (Thanks, Nancy!)