Tiny Buddha

Tag: goals

  • One Question for Anyone Who’s Stuck in a Rut: What Do You Believe?

    One Question for Anyone Who’s Stuck in a Rut: What Do You Believe?

    “You become what you believe, not what you think or what you want.” ~Oprah Winfrey

    What do you believe? During the forced stillness of the pandemic environment we’re all living in, this is a question I’ve been faced with more intensely than ever. In particular, I’ve come to question what I believe about myself, and how that impacts every element of my life.

    Coming out of years of self-help for social and general anxiety, a long-standing eating disorder, and several dissatisfying personal relationships, I had to come to question what these external realities reflected back to me. For what you believe about not only your life, but more importantly, yourself, will show up again and again, and yes, again, until you’ve finally addressed the root of the problem.

    In my case, my lack of self-value resulted in many dysfunctions and setbacks in my personal and professional world.

    My deteriorating self-image led to my eating obsessions, a lack of confidence exacerbated anxieties, and the low value I placed on myself was most likely written all over me, judging by the way others showed disrespect toward me in personal relationships.

    Not only was I devaluing who I was, but I also operated from a place of being closed off to others, afraid that if I showed my true self I wouldn’t measure up to their expectations.

    This all came to a head when COVID-19 emerged and led to a global lockdown. Going off of numerous negative relationship experiences, I visited a doctor to discover I had a pelvic floor condition called vaginismus, which results in involuntary vaginal muscle tightening that makes sex and physical exams like pap smears either impossible or extremely painful.

    I spent the next four months going through physical therapy to heal my body from this condition, breaking off a new relationship to focus completely on my own journey. It amazed me how the mind and body go hand-in-hand; my muscle tightening felt like a total embodiment of years of being closed off to others and remaining safely isolated from sharing my true self.

    As I mentioned previously, prior to being diagnosed with vaginismus I’d spent years healing my mental health problems and gaining strength in my career experience.

    After high school, I was lost in my career path for a solid period of time, making lukewarm attempts at artistic endeavors such as acting and modeling, never fully prepared to take a leap and fully immerse myself in any one field.

    Again, this would require a bearing of my true self that would frighten me just to think about. Not only that, it would mean that I had the nerve to believe I was worthy of attempting a profession that’s reserved for an elite group of “special” people, a group I never considered myself to be a part of.

    I did muster up enough courage to move to Los Angeles, however, where I felt I could start a new identity. My Northern California roots felt outdated, and along with some family I sought to better myself with a fresh start.

    One of my first steps toward positive changes was a hostessing gig at a bowling alley, which forced me to get out of my shell and be more social for a change. I still felt very self-conscious, but the more I worked on interacting with customers and coworkers, the more I learned how much I loved people.

    This further developed when, following a chance Intro to Journalism course I took at Pasadena City College in Southern California, I found a new joy that I wasn’t expecting.

    I began to love writing, and not only that, my favorite element of this new career path was interviewing—something I never thought I’d be able to conquer with the severity of my social anxiety, which prevented me from going into grocery stores at its peak

    Deep down, I started to believe that something different could be possible for me. Maybe I could break out of my old mindset and turn into the person I’d always felt I was inside: someone who loved people, longed for and accomplished successful interpersonal relationships, and stood in her power, unapologetically.

    By January of 2020, I had gained a local job news writing in my home base of Burbank and felt optimistic about the future. After the pandemic hit, however, I went through a time of feeling down during isolation. This paired with the vaginismus diagnosis made me become initially quite frustrated.

    “Why is this happening to me?” I wondered. I had done a lot to overcome other personal issues, but now having to do months of diligent, and sometimes extremely painful, physical therapy felt like a punishment that I didn’t deserve.

    After a short bit of contemplation, however, I had a real and sudden shift in perspective. I simply thought, “I’ve been through more than this in the past. I’ll get through it.” I believed I could, and from that moment on dedicated myself to healing not only physically, but emotionally as well.

    Within four months I made enough progress to end in-person physical therapy appointments, I started blog writing and continued with news writing in Burbank, earned a journalism scholarship over the summer, which I contributed toward my studies, and now have just started my own independent journalism writing website.

    The more I believed that I could accomplish my goals, and the more I felt I was worthy of such things, the more I saw everything in the universe work for me, and not against me.

    Today I continue to improve my self-image, and I have a long way to go. But overall, I feel healed from where I once was.

    I’m pursuing my passions, now unashamed to show and share who I truly am.

    I demonstrate a great deal of self-respect in personal relationships, no longer tolerating poor treatment from others who don’t consider my worth.

    My diet and exercise habits are healthier, my vaginismus treatment is complete, and, although I still have to maintain physical therapy exercises, I feel grateful for where I’m at in that regard and in every aspect of my life.

    If you had asked me five years ago, prior to all of this self-improvement, what I believed about myself and my life, I probably would have said I had a promising future ahead, although my actions and interactions continuously showed otherwise.

    This is why I feel I’m at a much more positive place in life at this moment.

    Not only do I propose that I believe positive things about myself, but I now show it through my actions.

    I no longer want respect, I demand it.

    I no longer want to pursue my goals wholeheartedly, I now do it as much as I can every day.

    And not only do I dream of expressing the truth of who I am, I embody it.

    So, if you too feel like you’re stuck in a rut in your life, if you feel that the world isn’t treating you fairly, and if you don’t like what the universe is showing you, then I urge you to ask yourself:

    What do you believe? About yourself? Your worth? Your life? Your potential?

    What do you believe about what you deserve, in relationships and in your career, and what you can accomplish if you try?

    How do those beliefs affect how you show up in the world—the decisions you make, the chances you take, the things you tolerate, and the habits you follow each day?

    What would you do differently if you challenged your beliefs and recognized they’re not facts?

    And what can you do differently today to create a different outcome for tomorrow?

    These are the questions that shape our lives because our beliefs drive our choices, which ultimately determine who we become.

  • How I Found My Place in the World When I Felt Beaten Down by Life

    How I Found My Place in the World When I Felt Beaten Down by Life

    “Some people are going to reject you simply because you shine too bright for them. That’s okay. Keep shining.” ~Mandy Hale

    After I finished school, I was excited about moving forward with life.

    I thought about the career that I hoped to have, where I hoped to live, and the things that I wanted to accomplish.

    After starting off as a secondary high school English teacher and becoming disappointed with the ongoing changes in the public school system, I went to graduate school for law. I thought it would open up a lot of possibilities, but it did not.

    I never had any dream of being an attorney in a courtroom. Instead, I always wanted to work in Europe or South America with people from different cultures, nationalities, and backgrounds. I wanted to make a positive difference in a humanitarian way by working with people personally to implement change and improve their lives.

    Life had something different in store for me, though. I ended up being rejected endlessly, well over a thousand times for every application that I sent out over a period of years.

    Disillusionment set in. There was the feeling of “why even continue to try anymore?” As the rejections piled up, friends that I had known for years began leaving as well. Their calls and visits became less frequent. They moved on with their lives, careers, marriages, and kids.

    I felt left behind and rejected not just by jobs, but by life in general. The hurts and betrayals were leading me to lose my passion and enthusiasm. Then there were the callous remarks from friends, people in the local community, when I asked if they knew of a position, former professors who couldn’t assist in any way now that I’d graduated, college career center advisors, and even extended family members.

    It took time, but I finally came to the realization that those who were endlessly rejecting me weren’t the ones who really mattered. I would keep shining brightly with or without them.

    Here are the four things that helped me to finally “reject” the non-acceptance and rejection that I was experiencing from others.

    1. Realize that “there is no box.”

    Our background, degrees, friends, teachers, families, and the larger culture as a whole try to get us to conform to a narrow set of parameters. If you went to school to be a teacher, you have to be a teacher.  If you studied to be an auto mechanic, you have to be an auto mechanic. And you have to live in this place or this country, because that’s where your family have always lived.

    Someone once told me, “there is no box.” Society tries to “box” us in and to restrict us to defining ourselves within certain narrow limits. However, I realized that there really is “no box,” and that I could apply my skills and talents in other ways and in other places.

    I didn’t have to conform to where I was or seek acceptance from those who were currently around me.

    I started meeting new people and looking at other places and countries, and I stopped trying to seek the acceptance of those who had already decided that they weren’t going to accept me for who I was. The employers, institutions, and agencies told me I was  “overqualified” or that that there were “many qualified candidates” and I hadn’t been considered, or they’d keep my resume on file.

    It was as though no matter what I accomplished and no matter how hard I worked, it was never “the right skill set” or “enough” for the particular place or person that I was submitting to.

    In a way, I came to accept their rejection, because I knew that the answer was getting out of my box and realizing that someone else would be more than happy to accept me for who I was.

    2. Let go of the need for approval by others.

    Letting go of the need for approval opens up exciting new doors. We are finally free to be who we really are.

    I wanted to live up to the expectations of family and society. I think that’s why it hurt so much to receive so many rejections over such a long period of time. I wanted to be “successful” according to society’s expectations. I wanted to follow the path of what everyone told me was a “regular” and “secure” life.

    I’ve since realized that I get to define success for myself.

    Success, for me, means doing what I love—teaching, reading, traveling, meeting and working with people from throughout the world, studying languages, and experiencing different cultures.

    Everything changed for me when I decided to live my life on my terms now rather than looking for a company, agency, government institution, or some other entity to provide me with the chance or opportunity. I wasn’t going to wait for permission from someone or something else.

    I also realized I can use my skills in the world outside of the narrow and limited context of the jobs and people who were rejecting me.

    For example, I can teach, and I can work to help others, but it doesn’t have to be within the rigid structure of the public education system.

    I can use the skills that I’ve acquired to be a global citizen and to learn and grow every day without confining myself to the parameters of one place, country, or culture. I can be an amalgamation of all of them, as I continue to grow as a person, both personally and professionally, but on my own terms, not those that are dictated to be by someone or something else.

    As I let go of the need for others to approve of me, my world expanded, because now I could go after those things in life that I was passionate about rather than just trying to conform and satisfy others.

    3. Start journaling.

    Journaling and connecting with our true selves, and what really brings us joy, can make us value ourselves again in spite of any opposition and rejection that we experience from the world.

    It can also help us reconnect with the things we used to love when we were younger—the passions we lost after going through years of school and trying to do what we thought we had to do in order to be successful in the eyes of society.

    Journaling helped me get back to my uniqueness as a person and was what really motivated and inspired me. It helped me pay attention to what made me happy again and those things that I’d really like to do or accomplish.

    I was inspired by my experiences in the world that were outside of my comfort zone and by the rich and varied cultures and experiences that were waiting out there. As I continued journaling, I also realized I’d always been inspired by the possibility of teaching and helping others, but in an international capacity.

    As a result, I’ve had the opportunity to help students with autism, to teach English to students and adults internationally, and to write for a variety of places abroad that did accept and value my work. However, I would never have explored these aspects of myself if I had been accepted by those who were rejecting me. Which means really, their rejections were blessings in disguise.

    4. Support those who support you.

    “Your circle should want to see you win.  Your circle should clap the loudest when you have good news.  If they don’t, get a new circle.” ~Wesley Snipes

    We can reject rejection by supporting those who support us through both the good and the more difficult times in our lives. Why support those who are only there for you when life is good?

    The hard times made me realize who really was on my side. The people who stayed with me and continued to believe in me supported me through both the victories and the disappointments. There was a tremendous difference between those individuals and others who no longer answered calls or emails, except when I was “successful.”

    Now, I may not have as many friends as I once did, but those that I do have are an important part of my circle and people that I can rely on.

    Someone once told me, “Now I know who the true believers are.” I feel that way about those who have proudly celebrated my successes and have also been there for me during my darkest moments.

    I hope you’re fortunate enough to have people in your life who genuinely support you, even if it’s only one person. If you don’t, try to open yourself up to new people, and stop giving your energy to people who accept you conditionally or regularly disappoint you. Creating a supportive circle begins with that first step of making a little room.

    —

    It wasn’t easy for me to overcome rejection and non-acceptance, and I still struggle with it at times. No one wants to feel left out or like a failure. But I’ve realized I can only fail by society’s terms if I accept them—and I don’t.

    Instead, I’ve rejected the “box” other people tried to impose on me, gotten outside my comfort zone, let go of the need for approval, started rediscovering what excites me, and shifted my focus to those people who have always supported me, regardless of what I’ve achieved. And I’m far happier for it.

  • How to Stop Procrastinating When Things Feel Hard or Scary

    How to Stop Procrastinating When Things Feel Hard or Scary

    “You’ve been criticizing yourself for years and it hasn’t worked. Try approving of yourself and see what happens.” ~Louise L. Hay

    I dreamed of starting my own business for years. Ten years, exactly.

    While there are a few reasons it took so long to take the plunge, procrastination is at the top of the list.

    It’s hard work to change careers, uncomfortable to leave a steady paycheck, and nerve-wracking to think of failure.

    Even after spending months and years learning, studying, and getting certified, when it was no longer a matter of having the skills, the uncertainty of success was enough for me to keep kicking the can down the road to start marketing myself.

    I was afraid of failing. I was afraid of not being perfect. I was afraid that people would think I was a joke. And I was afraid that I wasn’t going to be capable of all the work it entailed.

    So I dragged my feet and kept passing my work off to “Future Me.”

    I did this for everything, though.

    “Tomorrow Sandy” can do the dishes. She’ll take care of scheduling that doctor’s appointment. Oh, and sign her up for that tough conversation I need to have with my mom too.

    At one point I recognized that I often procrastinated because I needed everything to be perfect.

    • I wouldn’t work on a craft project or cook a new recipe unless I knew it would come out flawless.
    • Or I would keep tweaking projects at work up to the last second and beyond, at the sacrifice of getting more work done.
    • Or I would agonize over every text and email I sent, often opting not to send any message unless I knew exactly what to say.

    But, as you can see, I’ve come a long way from that version of me.

    I’ve since started my own business (and I’m loving it!), and I’ve pulled my best tools together on paper for how to stop procrastinating—even though I actually procrastinated on writing this post (ironic, I know!).

    Today, I didn’t let my fear of “good enough” hold me back from sharing actual, helpful advice and mindset shifts to get moving and stop staying stuck.

    Because when we’re stuck, we start telling ourselves stories. So that’s where we’ll start, with this story we tell ourselves about why we procrastinate.

    What We Think Procrastination Is

    We have this misconception that procrastination is laziness.

    But procrastination is an active process. You choose to do something else instead of the task that you know you should be doing.

    In contrast, laziness is not caring. It’s apathy, inactivity, and an unwillingness to act. It’s an “I could, I just don’t wanna” kind of attitude.

    But when you’re procrastinating, you feel even more stressed because you do care about getting the task done. You’re just avoiding stress and having difficulty with motivation.

    Because that is why we procrastinate.

    What Procrastination Really Is and Why We Do It

    Procrastination is a stress-avoidance technique. It is an active process to temporarily avoid discomfort.

    We subconsciously are saying, “Present Me is not willing to experience this discomfort, so I will pass it on to Future Me.”

    (We do this as though we’re asking a stranger to do the work for us. Researchers have seen on fMRI that when we think about our future selves, it lights up the same part of the brain as when we think about strangers.)

    The really cool news is that by working toward overcoming your procrastination habit, you’re building your overall resilience to distress.

    That is how I define resilience: a willingness to experience discomfort.

    Examples of Procrastination

    Procrastination is tricky. Sometimes it’s obvious that we’re doing it. Sometimes we don’t quite realize it (like when I had to water the plants right then and there instead of writing this blog post).

    So here are some examples:

    • Scrolling through Instagram instead of getting started on important tasks
    • Putting off work assignments until the last minute
    • Wanting to start a new positive habit (dieting, exercising, or saving money), but repeatedly delaying it while telling yourself that “I’ll start soon”
    • Wanting to start a business but wasting time in “research mode” instead of taking action
    • Doing an easy, less important task that “needs to be done” before getting started
    • Waiting until you’re “in the mood” to do the task

    5 Steps to Stop Procrastinating

    Now that we know what it is and why we do it, let’s look at how to stop.

    1. Motivate yourself with kindness instead of criticism.

    What really holds us back from moving forward is the language we use when talking to ourselves.

    Thoughts like:

    • I don’t want to.
    • It will be hard.
    • I don’t know how to do it.
    • It might not come out as good as I want it to.
    • I’ll probably fail.
    • This will be so boring.

    This is what we think that drives us to procrastinate. I mean, really, when you read those thoughts, they just feel so demotivating, right?

    This negative self-talk has a good intent. It is trying to save us from discomfort.

    Unfortunately, it’s achieving the opposite because it adds to the stress by making us feel bad.

    If you speak to yourself with kindness, just as you would a friend, it will feel so much more motivating.

    So think about what you would say to that friend. It might sound like:

    • I get it, it will be uncomfortable, but you’ll be done soon and then you can relax.
    • Once you get started, it will be easier.
    • You can do it!!
    • If it doesn’t come out perfect, at least you’ll have practiced more.
    • If you fail, you’ll have learned so much.

    2. Create a pattern interrupter.

    That negative self-talk has simply become part of your procrastination habit.

    Because that is what procrastination becomes—a habit—and habits are comprised of a cue, a routine, and a reward.

    • The cue is thinking about a task that needs to be done.
    • The routine is to speak that negative self-talk that leads to procrastination.
    • The reward is less stress. (Not no stress, because avoiding the task is still somewhat stressful because we know it eventually needs to be done.)

    In order to break the habit and create a new one, you need to introduce a pattern interrupter.

    Mel Robbins has a great one she calls the 5 Second Rule. When you think “I should do this,” before the negative self-talk starts in, count backwards, “5-4-3-2-1-GO” and move.

    I find this helpful when I’m having a hard time getting out of bed in the morning.

    If I’m having trouble getting motivated to do something difficult like write a post about procrastination, my pattern interrupter is “I can do hard things.” Not only am I interrupting the pattern, I’m motivating myself positively as well.

    If I’m having trouble doing a boring and tedious task like my taxes, I use something like “I’m willing to be uncomfortable now so that Future Me can be at peace.”

    3. Break down the task.

    One of the big drivers of procrastination is overwhelm. Overwhelm happens when we’re looking at a project in full scope, either not knowing where to start or feeling like all the work involved will be too much.

    If the next task at hand is too big, or if you don’t know where to start, your first task really is to either 1) make a list, or 2) figure out the smallest thing you can do first.

    The whole house is a mess? I bet you know where that one sock goes!

    Another example, I had social anxiety and going to the gym was overwhelming to me.

    So I broke it down into:

    • I just need to put gym clothes in my car, that’s it.
    • I just need to drive to the gym. I can turn around if I want once I get there.
    • I just need to walk in the door. I can always leave.
    • I just need to get changed in the locker room I can do that.

    Honestly, I never turned around and went home. Because once I’d taken the small, easy step, the next small easy step was doable.

    Which leads me to the next step…

    4. Just commit to five minutes.

    Studies show that if we commit to five minutes only, 80% of us are likely to continue with the task.

    Five minutes is nothing. You can do anything for five minutes.

    There is an 80% chance you’ll continue working once you put in those five minutes, but even if you don’t, you’re still five minutes closer to your goal.

    And, you’ve taken one more step to breaking the old habit of not starting.

    It’s a big win-win!

    5. Reward yourself or make the task more enjoyable.

    Another problem with looking at a big task in scope instead of the next five minutes is that the reward is too far away or not satisfying enough.

    When you’re trying to lose weight, twenty pounds is weeks and months away.

    Or, when you’re putting off your taxes, if you aren’t expecting a return then the reward is “not going to jail.”

    So bringing in more rewards sooner will fast track creating the new habit of getting started.

    But also, making the task itself more pleasant will make it a less monotonous task.

    • To write this post, I put on my softest bathrobe and grabbed my baby’s tub from when he was an infant to make an Epsom salt foot bath under my desk while I write.
    • I’ll be starting my taxes in the next few weeks, and I already plan to have a glass of wine and super fancy cheese and crackers while I sit down to do them.
    • I save listening to super nostalgic nineties music for when I’m exercising just so that it makes that time extra special and fun.

    What Would Open Up for You If You Stopped Procrastinating?

    We spend so much more time avoiding the discomfort of a task than we do stepping into what it will be like once the task is complete.

    If you were to stop procrastinating, what would open up in your life?

    • Would you start your business because you’re no longer afraid of experiencing any discomfort if you “fail”?
    • Would you simply enjoy life more if you weren’t in a perpetual state of stress because there is a list of things you’re putting off?
    • Would you finally lose weight or get in shape and feel good once you push through being able to get started?

    The Bottom Line

    Procrastination is an active process to temporarily avoid discomfort (it is not laziness!)

    By overcoming your procrastination habit, you are building your emotional resilience.

    Notice the negative, demotivating self-talk and motivate yourself with kindness over criticism.

    Create a pattern interrupter before the negative self-talk starts weighing you down.

    Commit to just five minutes and you’ll either keep going to do more, or you’ll at least be five minutes closer to done.

    Reward yourself or make the task more enjoyable so there is less discomfort to avoid.

  • The Joy of Not Getting What We Want

    The Joy of Not Getting What We Want

    “Remember that not getting what you want Is sometimes a wonderful stroke of luck.” ~Dalai Lama

    Let me tell you a story. I first read it in a book on Taoism, but I’ve seen it in at least a dozen other places since then, each with its own variation. Here’s the gist:

    There’s this farmer. His favorite horse runs away. Everyone tells him that this is a terrible turn of events and that they are sorry for him. He says, “We’ll see.”

    The horse comes back a few days later, and it brings an entire herd of wild horses with it. Everyone tells him that this is a wonderful turn of events and that they’re happy for him. He says, “We’ll see.”

    The farmer’s son is trying to break one of the new horses, it throws him, and he breaks his leg. Everyone tells the farmer that this is a terrible turn of events and that they’re sorry for him. He says, “We’ll see.”

    The army comes through the village. The country is at war and they are conscripting people to go fight. They leave the farmer’s son alone because he has a broken leg. Everyone tells him that this is a wonderful turn of events and that they’re happy for him.

    The farmer says, “We’ll see.”

    Now let me tell you who I was when I first heard that story. I was twenty-three or twenty-four, trying to get off of drugs and stop drinking and turn my life around in general. I had recently rolled my car out into a field, lost my wife and most of my friends, and had moved to West Texas to start over.

    I was smart enough to know something had to change, but I wasn’t quite smart enough to know how, so I tried to do what I thought smart people did—I started going to the library.

    I initially got into a bunch of weird stuff like alternate theories about the history of the world, cryptozoology, and things like that. Not really the change I needed.

    One day I went to the library looking for a book about the Mothman, but Stephen Hawking’s A Brief History of Time was sitting in its place. I didn’t know anything about this book or the things it talked about, but the title was cool, and libraries are free, so I checked it out.

    It’s hard to exaggerate how much this book revolutionized my view of the universe and my place in it. It was thrilling to recognize how much there was out there that I didn’t know. Atlantis and Bigfoot were replaced by quantum mechanics and string theory.

    I eventually stumbled onto The Dancing Wu Li Masters by Gary Zukav, rearranging my worldview again. Having grown up in a pretty strict evangelical home, any sort of eastern philosophy was completely outside my frame of reference. This led me to begin studying Taoism and Buddhism, most specifically Zen Buddhism, and to the story I started this post with.

    I started to recognize that I had a mind, but I was not my mind. Meditation showed me how this mind was always grasping and wanting and reaching out for different things. It was a craving and aversion machine.

    It wasn’t long before I realized that it wanted these things solely for the sake of having them, and that none of them were all that important. I just wanted what I wanted because I wanted it.

    This changed everything.

    I had spent the previous fifteen years running from one thing to another in order to avoid anxiety, fear, anger, and depression. I did this through drugs and alcohol and taking crazy risks with my life. These things have consequences.

    These consequences came as car wrecks, jail time, hospitalizations, and a long string of destroyed relationships. I was so captivated by my wants that I was running through life with my eyes closed, blindly chasing them, with predictable results.

    Realizing that I was not my mind gave me a sense of objectivity about the things I wanted and the things I did not want. It taught me that I didn’t have to be so attached to having or avoiding things. This let me stop running.

    I learned that getting our way is overrated. Once we recognize this, we are much less susceptible to the whims of a flimsy, fragile, and fickle mind.

    Why We Have No Business Getting What We Want

    There are three primary reasons we need to be careful about being too invested in getting what we want:

    • We are emotional creatures, driven by things like hunger and a bad night’s sleep.
    • To a great extent we’re wired for short-term thinking. Immediate benefit often outweighs long-term consequences.
    • We experience time in a linear fashion, so the future is completely unknown to us.

    Let’s take a look at these.

    Hungry, Angry, Lonely, Tired

    I often encourage people to memorize the acronym HALTS to use when making decisions. It stands for hungry, happy, angry, lonely, tired, stressed, and sad.

    These are all common emotional states, and they are all terrible times to make a decision. We’ve all heard the advice not to go shopping while we’re hungry, and there’s a reason for that—it’s good advice. You will buy more food than you need, all based on how you feel in that moment.

    I’m not sure I’ve ever seen good decisions come from these emotional states, unless luck intervened and let the person off the hook. It all makes sense when we think about it.

    Anger shuts down the best parts of out brain. Situations go from bad to worse and from worse to unfixable when we decide to address something in a moment of anger.

    When we are sad the entire world seems bleak and it feels like it will never change. This is okay, unless we make long-term decisions based on the idea of an ominous, crushing world.

    Stress makes even the smallest things feel overwhelming. We cannot make good decisions when making our bed or going grocery shopping sound like monumental tasks.

    When we’re lonely we’re likely to let the wrong people into our lives just because we need someone. This opens us up to toxic, manipulative, and malicious people.

    Our brains are slow and sluggish when we are tired, and our decisions are, unfortunately, rarely our best.

    Even the so-called positive emotions aren’t safe. I know I have overcommitted to things on days when I was happy and feeling a little bit better than normal.

    When you take all of this together, it helps us to see that the things we want are flimsy and that they change depending on our mood. The things we want become a lot less important when we realize that we might only want them because we had a bad night’s sleep, or we skipped lunch.

    Short-Term Planning

    Our immediate responses are rarely oriented to the long term. This makes sense, since most of the things our body needs are immediate—food, sleep, protection, sex, using the bathroom, etc.

    The problem arises when we focus on meeting these needs to the exclusion of the things that are good for us long term. I wasn’t stupid—I’d always known that the drinking and drugs were a problem. The problem was that rational James was usually outvoted by crazy James.

    I had good intentions, and they held so long as I wasn’t around any of my temptations. My long-term planning was solid until short-term fun was in front of me. It was infuriating to watch my resolve and dreams go out the window over and over again.

    As I mentioned above, our wants are flimsy when we begin to explore them. Why do you want chocolate? Why do you want a beer? Why do you want to go on a walk? Why do you want to go to Disney World?

    We have all sorts of answers for these questions:

    Because I deserve it.

    Because I need to relax.

    Because it’s a nice day outside.

    Because Disney World is the happiest place on earth.

    These don’t really hold up when we examine them though.

    Why do you deserve it?

    What does it mean to relax?

    What makes it a nice day?

    What makes Disney World the happiest place on earth?

    If we keep going, we always arrive at the realization that we just want to feel good one way or another. We want to feel good for the sake of feeling good. While there’s definitely nothing wrong with this, it is ultimately baseless, and we cannot let it drive our lives.

    Not feeling good is a part of the human experience. You’re going to get sick, you’re going to have days that are not as good as other days, you’re going to have a headache sometimes. These things are unavoidable.

    The things we want right here and right now are rarely the best things for us long term. Because of this, long-term planning requires intentionality and energy. It may be inconvenient but it’s true.

    We Can’t Predict the Future

    As a kid, I remember thinking it was weird that we couldn’t remember the future. If I could remember what happened yesterday, why couldn’t my brain go the other direction?

    This is one of the primary limitations of our species, and the most important reason that we shouldn’t hold the things we want too tightly. We don’t know how anything is going to turn out, including what will happen if we get what we want.

    I used to drive through Lubbock, Texas, once or twice a year to go skiing. Lubbock is a city out in the desert, and while I have come to love it here, I don’t think anyone would describe it as beautiful.

    Lubbock has some dubious honors. We have been voted most boring city in America, worst weather in the world, and I recently read that we have the worst diet in the United States. Our poverty and violent crime rates are roughly double the national average, and we score high on things like child abuse and teen pregnancy.

    I always swore I’d never live in a place like Lubbock when I would pass through here, but moving here twenty years ago saved my life. The place that I loved, Austin, I brought me to rock bottom. it was only a matter of time before I was dead or in prison.

    On the other hand, the place that I swore I’d never live has given me a college education, a family, and a successful business—all things that I thought only existed for other people. I honestly shudder when I think what my life would have looked like had I not moved.

    There have been smaller examples along the way. I was working at a CD store and loved it, but one Sunday corporate came in and said they were shutting the place down. They gave me a two-week paycheck to help them pack the store up and move it out. It was that abrupt.

    It sucked, but this led me to working at hotels, where I was able to get paid to do all my homework and still have time to read for fun. I burned through all the Russian classics, made all A’s, and got to spend a lot of time with my son when he was little. I will always be grateful for that.

    Before opening my practice, I was working at a private university. For someone with sixty-plus jobs in their life (my wife and I made a list), working on a college campus was amazing—it was the first place I saw as a “forever” job.

    When things went bad, they went all bad and it was obvious it was time to leave, but I was comfortable. I ignored some problems I should not have been ignoring, and it caught up with me. By the time I left I was burned out and sick all the time.

    This catapulted me into opening my own business because I didn’t really see any other options. I’d never seen myself as being responsible enough to do this, and people told me I didn’t have the head for it.

    Six years later, my business has been super successful and afforded me more freedom than I could ever imagine, but even this wasn’t the end. I recently closed my office to stay home with my kids, another twist I couldn’t have seen coming.

    We are trapped in linear time, so we don’t know what’s coming right around the corner. Holding on to one thing or another as the right thing or the thing we “should’ have often causes us to miss the amazing things right in front of us.

    Accepting What We Get

    My life has been a series of hard lessons brought about by my self-absorbed, entitled, and foolish choices. They have all, in one way or another, taught me one thing: I don’t know what’s best, so a majority of the time I don’t have any business getting what I want.

    Things like someone shelving a library book in the wrong place, corporate closing the place I worked, and moving to a city I actively disliked have brought about the best things in my life. I would not have chosen any of these if I’d been given the choice.

    We are emotional, shortsighted creatures who have no access to the future. Learning to cultivate acceptance for the things outside of our control often opens up amazing paths for us. I know it has for me.

  • 4 Reasons to Let Go of the Need to Plan Your Future

    4 Reasons to Let Go of the Need to Plan Your Future

    “No valid plans for the future can be made by those who have no capacity for living in the now.” ~Alan Watts

    I went to college a little bit later in life. Because of that, people often mistakenly believed I was operating on a specific (and somewhat urgent) timetable—as though I was running to catch up with the rest of the people my age.

    However, I was already in a career I loved (teaching yoga) that supported me financially. For me, going back to school was mainly about enjoying the process of getting an education without any pressure to get it over and done with.

    As it came time for me to graduate, I frequently got asked, “So, what’s next?”

    I never quite knew how to answer this question, and to be honest, it always made me a little bit uncomfortable. Mostly it made me uncomfortable because I could sense others’ discomfort with my answer, which was: “Nothing’s next.” People seemed to bristle at my reply and worse, give me a list of reasons why they thought it was risky not to have anything lined-up after I graduated.

    Even though their reactions weren’t personal, and for the most part, didn’t really have anything to do with me, the truth was: I was still insecure about making my own way through life and taking the path less traveled—which in this case was teaching yoga full-time and not making any concrete plans for the future.

    People clearly thought I should go out and get a “real” job (as if teaching yoga didn’t qualify as a real job). Another yoga teacher even asked me if I was going to get a “big girl job” when I graduated. Ouch.

    It seemed as though everyone expected me to launch into a new career or go on to higher education, and in spite of myself, I subconsciously agreed that perhaps I should just make a nice solid plan for my life.

    The problem was A) I already had a plan (which was not making any plans) and B) up until that point, my whole life had been spent making plans, and that hadn’t worked out so well. Over-planning had led to a lot of wasted time and energy. Plus, it had become readily apparent that life doesn’t always go according to plan (and thank God for that!).

    While plans aren’t in and of themselves bad, and they can certainly help lend direction to life, equally, I found it was generally in my best interest to leave things wide open to possibility, and here’s why:

    1. Planning tends to solidify life, and life is simply not meant to be frozen solid.

    Cliché as it may sound, life is a lot like water, and making plans is like placing a whole lot of logs and rocks and other obstructions in life’s way—it clogs up the current. Plans create resistance, and life is usually best when not resisted.

    2. When you’re looking for a specific outcome, you’re often not looking at anything else.

    A whole world of fantastic prospects could be surrounding you, but when you have on what I like to call the “focus-blinders,” all you can see is what you think you want, and nothing more.

    3. This one’s sort of an addendum to number two: We might miss out on opportunities.

    For the most part, people are inclined to think they’ll recognize opportunity when it comes knocking, but it’s been my experience that opportunity comes in all shapes and sizes, and it might easily be missed (or severely delayed) if we’re expecting it to look a certain way.

    4. This last one might be the most important, and it’s that over-planning can cause us to overthink and end up second-guessing or compromising ourselves, as well as our values and goals.

    I’ve learned the hard way (on more than one occasion) that having a plan and sticking to it like glue can be a fast path to rock bottom.

    All those years ago, when I was on the eve of graduating from college and on the verge of having a major planning relapse, I looked back at my life so far and could see that everything had always worked out in one way or another, and often in ways I could never have orchestrated (or predicted) myself.

    While the future certainly looked intimidating from where I was standing, I had the sense that I could trust things would continue to work out. Even if I wasn’t the one carefully planning everything out.

    The story we tend to tell ourselves is that if we don’t make plans, then nothing will happen. And if we’re not in control, then things might fall apart.

    But the gentle truth, which is actually the glorious truth, is: we’re not in control, anyway. Not fully. And that’s such a lot of pressure to take off your shoulders. Even if you don’t plan your life down to the last detail, things will still happen. Opportunities will still show up.

    Phew, it’s not all up to you!

    That doesn’t mean you can’t also have some idea of where you’d like to go—there’s nothing wrong with having dreams and goals. But there’s something to be said for staying open instead of being rigidly attached to a specific outcome.

    That compulsive urge to plan comes from the urge to avoid uncertainty, a protective instinct that’s literally hardwired into our biology. Planning is a powerful impulse to minimize risk and ensure our continued safety and security.

    However, if you can find a way of making peace with a future that is largely unknowable, and also recognize that unknowable doesn’t automatically mean bad, it will help soothe that part of your brain that instantly wants to launch into planning mode.

    Ultimately, real security doesn’t come from the outside—from making plans or holding office jobs or earning Master’s Degrees. Real security comes from within.

    The most control we can exercise is to keep on doing the next right thing, taking steps that move us closer to the center of our Self, and living our lives in a way that reminds us of who we are.

    I still occasionally fall under the spell of planning, but every time I get wrapped up in the false sense of security planning offers, I come once more to the realization that life simply does not function according to my made-up agenda (no matter how well-crafted).

  • Stop Striving, Start Stopping: How to Enjoy Life More

    Stop Striving, Start Stopping: How to Enjoy Life More

    “Everyone wants to live on top of the mountain, but all the happiness and growth occurs while you’re climbing it.” ~Andy Rooney

    Three months ago, I was blessed with an awesome opportunity—a free weekend break to Snowdonia, Wales.

    Having experienced chronic health conditions for the past six years of my life, I had been hibernating.

    My days were a black-and-white routine: wake up, drink a smoothie mix, go to work, meditate, come home, lie down, eat, sleep. Yet, my mind was always so busy filled with endless tasks, big dreams, and an expanding sense of pressure as I craved more than what I had.

    When this opportunity arose. I immediately felt fear. What if I couldn’t handle the journey? What if I didn’t get enough sleep? What if I couldn’t find food that I could tolerate?

    Yet, another part of me glittered with gold.

    An adventure. A story. A long lost, forgotten part of me.

    And so, I called a friend.

    The next morning, we were on our way to Wales.

    The seven-hour journey flew by in an ultimate sense of flow.

    We arrived at a quaint, quiet hostel high up on the hills. Sheep scattered their white wool; tiny snowdrops on a vast, barren land. A grey sky painted watercolor clouds, and deep, green trees sang and swayed as they gave way to the wind.

    We sat quietly and observed. High ceilings and red carpets held the space of silence. The wind outside howled and stormed, brewed and bawled, concocting a frenzied feast for the night.

    We drifted off to sleep in our new world. A no man’s land, which oddly felt like home.

    We rose the next morning, with no clear plan but to simply wake and see where the wind would take us. Our eye lashes fluttered as we peered outside to see what surprises the storm had scattered and sown for us.

    We chose to drive around the winding hills of wanderlust, each corner revealing yet another crystal blue lagoon, laced with grey slate and white sheets of snow.

    We parked the car on the left-hand side of the road and looked up in appreciation. Our eyes glistened at the sight of rolling green fields, rusty iron gates, and trickling rivers gently cradled by bracken and boulders. A tiny, snow covered peak painted delicately, precariously and prettily, just waiting to be explored.

    And so, we walked.

    We walked and we walked and saw a lonely red hat, left and long forgotten. My boots stampeded the squelchy mud mashed with fresh fallen snow. We marched on.

    I was determined to reach the top.

    One hour into our climb I squealed with delight, “Look, we’re nearly there!”

    “No,” he said. “That’s just the beginning.”

    And he was right.

    As we reached what I had thought was our peak, another higher, rockier, snowier mountain suddenly arose before our eyes.

    “Oh,” I said.

    And so, we continued to climb for hours and hours.

    Much to my surprise, with every peak we reached, yet another one revealed itself. Each with its own intricate beauties—blue laced lagoons; pretty white blankets of pure, untrodden snow; higher heights with a dazzling white glow.

    Three hours in, I finally realized my drive to reach each new peak was limiting my boundless joy.

    The joy of climbing, the joy of tumbling. The joy of dancing, the joy of being.

    The joy of appreciating, the here, the now, the moment.

    I stopped and turned.

    “I think that’s enough,” I said.

    For once in my life. I didn’t want to reach the top. I didn’t want to conquer the next big challenge. I wanted to stop. I wanted to breathe. I wanted to play.

    And so, we breathed.

    We filled our pale pink lungs with cold, crisp air as we slipped and slid on sheets of ice. We looked at the highest height and laughed. We didn’t need to reach the top. What did we have to prove?

    We had it all right here.

    And so, we made our descent.

    Slowly, lovingly, and longingly.

    Appreciating every layer as if it were the last.

    But this time, we didn’t just walk and walk and walk. We climbed, we ran, we hopped, we danced. We rolled, we sunk, we stepped, and we laughed.

    The blue laced lagoons became sheer slate drops. The pretty white blankets became sludgy stained snow. The dazzling white glow dissolved into a land of green, bracken grass.

    And it was all simply perfect.

    We rolled down our final descent and laughed as we realized that in a land of a thousand acres, we had found the exact lonely red hat that had greeted us at the start.

    We crept through the creaking iron gate and sat on a piece of solid, set stone.

    And for the first time, I knew.

    That the next big thing, the next best thing, the next mountaintop would always be ahead of us. And I realized how much of my life I had wasted. Wanting, waiting, striving. When all there ever really was, was really right here.

    And in the right here, right now, everything was good.

    No matter what the view.

    There was always something to celebrate.

    Every layer of our life is worth living.

    Returning home from this trip, I reflected on my drive, my ambition, my constant search for success. And I realized, this search was, in fact, fueling an unsustainable state of health. On those vast lands, of everything and nothing, I had felt more energized, more free, and more in flow than I had in six long years. For the first time, I felt alive.

    And so, I hope this story inspires you to simply stop striving. For this pattern has tainted so much of my beautiful life here on earth. Stopping the striving, and the endless soul searching, leaves space for our inner peace, our inner flow, our inner glow.

    The mountains will always call us. Higher heights will always tempt us. Newer sights will always blind us. Yet, we have a choice. The choice to sacrifice our present for a future that may never come. Or to lovingly embrace our present as if it’s the only thing we know for sure we have—because it is.

  • Sometimes Goals Look Like…

    Sometimes Goals Look Like…

  • When You Want to Make Progress Fast and Feel Impatient

    When You Want to Make Progress Fast and Feel Impatient

    “Tortoise was over the line. After that, Hare always reminded himself, ‘Don’t brag about your lightning pace, for Slow and Steady won the race!‘“ ~The Tortoise and the Hare (Aesop’s Fables)

    I was sitting in an introduction to calligraphy workshop when a fellow student asked the instructor, “What do I need to become a professional Calligrapher, what would it take?”

    We were all on the edge of our seats with that one. It was as if we were about to learn the secret ingredient to Grandma’s cookies.

    The answer, to our surprise, was pen and paper.

    “The materials are no different than that of a novice calligrapher,” the instructor explained.

    The distinction between a novice and professional calligrapher is not in the tools they use, but rather in the professional’s commitment to practice, their pace, and the time they took to learn and do something.

    The same goes for any professional at their craft.

    I recalled a time when I was on a cruise ship and saw all these tourists with huge camera lenses and gadgets for their cameras. I was incredibly impressed and at times intimidated with their gear as I would hold up my own iPhone to snap a quick picture.

    After a while of being on board, you get to know one another well. I realized that despite their top tier lens, basically all of their cameras were set in auto mode.

    What good is such an advanced lens when you don’t know how to use it?

    They had gone from zero to one hundred with no practice, no skills acquired, just fancier devices.

    This lesson on the professional calligrapher has always intrigued me.

    When we look up to the expert, we assume that increasing the quality of materials or having access to nicer resources is what makes them great. This assumption overlooks the time it would have taken them to learn something new and to achieve their goal.

    Instead, we want to cut corners and are looking for the shortcut. We want to make progress as soon as possible, perhaps because we feel behind in life and think we need to hurry to get ahead, or because we think we’ll be happier when we reach our goal.

    Cutting corners is not a strategy that necessarily benefits us. It’s a way for us to be more useful and readily available to others, get more things done, and exhibit productivity.

    Our concern for positive feedback and acceptance by others keeps us from taking the time to experience something thoroughly for ourselves, just because we enjoy it or are curious about it.

    Just because.

    This past year I have been working with my sister to brainstorm new career opportunities. My current goal is to become an independent filmmaker.

    Similar to the observations shared above, I found myself quickly approaching the mindset of the calligraphy student: What would it take, what would I need to make the best movies, to be a great filmmaker?

    I too, wanted the shortcut. The direct route to achieving my goal. Is there a certain camera lens I need to have, light kit, microphone, or skill that would lead me right to success?

    After deep dives into blogs about filmmakers and watching online video subscriptions about filmmaking, it occurred to me that I had all that I needed to accomplish my goal.

    There was no shortcut to filmmaking.

    It was just going to take time.

    Time for me to learn more about the tools that I already had.

    Time to pick up my camera and practice shooting interviews.

    Time to use a pen and paper to write down script ideas.

    Time to make bad videos so that the next time I could make a better video.

    Time for repeated effort, continual practice, and eventually, improvement.

    It’s easy to get caught wasting time looking for a solution instead of taking time. In the end, we lose energy and motivation looking for the right tools or answers.

    We do things with the intention of going fast rather than far. We fixate on the end result and rob ourselves of the fun we’d have and excitement we’d feel if we let ourselves enjoy the journey.

    Instead, I’ve learned that I stand with the tortoise, not the hare, “Slow and steady [wins the race].”

    Go far. Reach farther. Take the time to become your best self.

  • If You Think Reaching Your Goal Will Make You Happy…

    If You Think Reaching Your Goal Will Make You Happy…

    The path IS the goal.

    The process is more important than the result.

    Life is a journey, not a destination.

    There are three very common, some might say cheesy and clichéd sayings you may hear when it comes to taking action to reach your goals.

    Some of you are probably rolling your eyes already, and I did when I first heard quotes like these.

    But I’ve recently realized something that has made me U-turn on a lot of my own old, outdated beliefs around goal-setting and achievement and acquisition of material things, or just generally “making it” in life.

    The path you’re traveling, the journey you’re currently on, really is the only thing that matters. All we have is the now.

    You can and should have dreams and aspirations, but I want you to think beyond them. You are capable of so much more than you think.

    Plus, the path you’re on may very well change for you, as it did for me.

    I’ll tell you about my dream.

    I knew from an early age that I wanted to be a professional musician. I wanted to tour the world as a guitarist in a metal band. Not necessarily be a rich and famous rock star, but to play shows, record music, and make a decent living doing so.

    I started out on drums originally. I used to practice at school. (No way were my mum and dad going to let me have a drum kit in the house!) I was pretty uncoordinated and flailed around like a sweaty octopus making a racket, so I ditched the sticks and picked up a second-hand electric guitar, vowing to one day “make it” in the music biz.

    Despite my family and friends all thinking that it wasn’t going to happen, and in some cases actively discouraging me from pursuing this very unorthodox career, I did in some small part succeed. I have played nationally and internationally, written and recorded music. I also have made a comfortable living teaching guitar for nearly ten years now.

    But what I am most proud of is not the fact that I proved my parents wrong or that I can stick two fingers up to anyone that doubted I would ever get this far. It’s not that at all.

    In some ways, they were kind of right. I didn’t fully make my dream come true after spending twenty-five years trying to do so.

    You see, I was just on a different path for a while to the one I’m on right now. Allowing myself to evolve naturally, let things take their course, and stop trying to control everything, has been an absolute game changer and has gotten me to a very good place.

    My original musical dreams, combined with my passion for helping people, led me down another route from that of the main stage at a festival—to teaching guitar. And I’m so proud and quite frankly amazed sometimes that I’ve been able to teach hundreds of people in my local area, and hopefully have made a positive impact. Playing a small part at least in their musical journeys.

    Where am I going with all this bragging!?

    An illusion of control is what I believe we have, but we truly don’t know what’s around the corner for us.

    And I think that the immense pressure of setting and achieving goals takes away some of the fun of that unpredictable journey.

    We set ourselves goals to achieve or acquire things that we believe will make us happy, right?

    So, you’re not after the goal per se, you’re actually after a happy feeling. You can have that happy feeling right now, even if you haven’t yet reached your goal. And you might eventually find you’re happier doing something else, if you’re willing to let go and shift gears.

    Next time you’re setting goals just remember that change is inevitable. Be flexible with your goals and have fun going after them!

    It’s fine to follow your dreams, but always follow the path that brings you the most happiness in the present.

    All we have is the journey.

  • Finding the Courage to Go After What You Want Out of Life

    Finding the Courage to Go After What You Want Out of Life

    “Just because you’re not doing what other people are doing, that doesn’t mean you’re failing or falling behind. You’re charting your own course and staying true to yourself, even though it would be easier to join the crowd. You’re creating a life you can fall in love with instead of falling in line. You’re finding the courage to do what’s right for you, even though it’s uncertain and scary and hard. Give yourself some credit, because these are all reasons to be proud.” ~Lori Deschene

    I wouldn’t call myself a laid-back person. I have anxiety that leads me to catastrophize, and I struggle with perfectionism. That said, I do pride myself on being a person who’s able to go with the flow, who’s open to just about anything—a person who is, in a word, agreeable.

    Where do you want to go to lunch? I’m okay with whatever. Which movie should we watch? I can probably find something to enjoy in most of them. What should we do this weekend? I don’t know; what do you want to do?

    If I have a really strong opinion about something, I’ll speak up, but what I really enjoy is being in the company of people I care about. I’m usually most happy when everybody around me is happy. As far as I’m concerned, the details of what we’re doing don’t matter as much as the fact that we’re doing it together.

    This attitude is rooted in a number of different things.

    For one, I was raised in a mid-sized, West Coast, seaside town where slow movement and a languid approach to decision making were part of the local culture.

    In addition, I usually took on the role of passive peacemaker in my family of origin, making sure the stress level was manageable for all involved by avoiding conflict at every turn.

    Finally, I grew up immersed in a religion that believed humans were inherently bad and it was essential for each of us to follow God’s will, as opposed to our own, in any given moment.

    Thanks to this combination of influences, I learned to tune out my own desires (to the point where, after a while, I couldn’t even hear them anymore) and take every reasonable opportunity offered to me as a potential good.

    I have rarely said “No” in my life—not because I didn’t want to be offensive or hurtful, but because I didn’t want to miss out on what that experience might have to offer. And, there’s also the fact that I had no trust in my own imagination or sense of personal direction.

    These aren’t always bad traits to have. I’ve met a lot of interesting people, seen a lot of gorgeous places, and tried some very unique foods (fried sheep brains, anyone?) because I was open to what the people around me had in mind. Deferring to the whims of others can have its perks.

    Plus, it is true that sometimes other people know better than we do about certain things. I’ve found myself on many an unexpected but fruitful detour in my life thanks to an idea someone else gave me that I never would have thought of myself.

    Of course, there are also some major drawbacks to letting life just happen. The biggest one for me is the fact that I don’t get much closer to my goals and dreams when I’m ready to say yes to whatever invitation or opportunity comes along.

    Much like wandering around a big, unknown city with no map in hand will lead you to some novel experiences but is not a good way to get you to all of the places you actually want to see, going through life open to every option you’re offered might lead to some fun times but it can also leave you standing nowhere in particular in the end.

    And I don’t know about you, but I want to be somewhere in particular. I want to be a full-time artist. More specifically, I want to be a full-time writer.

    It’s a destiny that’s been calling me ever since I was young. When I was in middle school, my humanities teacher was so taken with a writing project I did that she went out of her way to tell my parents about my talent. I won the all-school writing day scholarship prize when I was a senior in high school. Imagining the future of our class on graduation day, our valedictorian gave a speech that listed a handful of students by name and their predicted successes. “Grete Howland,” he said, alongside the words “famous author.”

    I was surprised to hear it. I was not a popular kid—there was no reason for him to think of, let alone mention, me out of the hundreds of people with whom I graduated on that day. Unless I really was that good. Unless this was something that was feasible for me.

    However, like I said before, I am not the kind of person who’s inclined to choose a goal, set a path toward it, and make decisions that will keep me on that path until I reach my intended destination. As much as I felt flattered, it didn’t occur to me that what my classmate said on that day to the hundreds of people gathered was something I could try to make a reality with a little bit of confidence and some good old fashioned planning.

    Life just went on. I did study English in college, but only because it was what I loved most, not because I had a specific use for the degree in mind. Out of college I moved back to my hometown and worked a mind-numbing data entry job while I figured out what I wanted to do next.

    Traveling the world seemed exciting, and I knew friends who belonged to a global missionary organization who got to do it. Still very much devout to my faith at that point in my life, I applied for the program, raised the money, and then spent six months in New Zealand, Australia and Vanuatu just doing what I was told by the people who were leading the trip.

    When I returned to the States, I was once more directionless. Graduate school seemed like a natural next step, and I had a few friends in seminary, so, yet again, I poured a lot of time and money into an interesting thing I saw the people around me doing while having no particular goal in mind.

    The only thing I knew when I graduated from seminary was that I wanted to keep living in the community I’d formed during my time there, so I found a job close by and stayed in southern California. That job, as an administrative assistant at a small independent school, was particularly fortuitous because I fell in love with their progressive philosophy and decided that I wanted to teach English. Thankfully, a position opened up, and I set off on what would end up being a 7-year foray into middle school education.

    There are no words to express the love and gratitude I have for the time I spent in those classrooms and the relationships I developed with students and colleagues. I witnessed seventh and eighth graders find their voices, discover deep connections across multiple subjects, and develop passionate convictions about social justice. At the same time, I also discovered after a few years that pouring all of my mental, emotional, and physical energy into helping others become better writers and thinkers left me too depleted to work on my own creative writing outside of my job.

    I adored teaching, and took pride in the identity of “teacher.” But I also had to consider whether I really wanted that to be my vocation forever, working in service of others’ creativity at the expense of my own. Half-done writing projects were whispering in my ear, calling me back to them, asking me to forgo my pleasant but aimless wandering in favor of a strategic path of my own.

    So I did it. Earlier this year, I walked away from teaching with the goal of finding a job that leaves space for my writing to flourish. It was a decision both scary and exciting. And even though I’m still learning to have the courage not to settle for any job I can get simply because it feels safe, I know I made the right move.

    Thankfully, my spouse and some very wise friends have kept me accountable to holding out for what will move me forward on my journey. As they encourage me to make space for my destiny, despite all the risks, I am beginning to see the value in identifying and prioritizing my own dreams and desires. I think I’m finally starting to believe in my own potential—or at least believe that exploring it is worth an honest try.

    It can be very comforting to take on the role of being the agreeable one. There’s no risk of rejection or failure when you’re happy to do what everyone else is doing, and when you’re willing to take whatever life hands you without holding out for more. What if more never comes?

    Taking the time to consider what you really want for yourself is scary because it can feel like a good opportunity might pass you by. But the other side of that is the fact that you can just as easily miss out on something better because you decided too soon, because you didn’t have the faith that you’d actually be able to achieve what it is you really want.

    So be flexible, yes. Be open-minded. Be selfless where it counts. But don’t make a habit out of letting other people make decisions for you. Don’t live your life settling for what’s in front of you just because it’s there.

    Take the time to learn what it is you want to do with your life. Chart a course toward it, and go. Get somewhere in particular, or as close as you possibly can. Practice being picky. This is your life, after all.

  • How to Move Forward When You’re Out of Work and Feeling Lost

    How to Move Forward When You’re Out of Work and Feeling Lost

    “My attitude has always been, if you fall flat on your face, at least you’re moving forward. All you have to do is get back up and try again.” ~Richard Branson

    Let’s face it, losing a job sucks! Over the last couple of months, I have been chatting with friends who have recently been affected by organizational changes resulting in being out of work involuntarily. This is a situation all too familiar to millions of people, frequently through no fault of their own. Often it’s a result of an economic downturn, restructuring, acquisitions, and cost savings.

    A couple of years ago, while I was on a business trip, I found out my role would be coming to an end. It wasn’t completely unexpected, and I was actually relieved. However, as an expat it was overwhelming.

    Would I have to move back to my home country? Would I have to leave the place where I’d started to build a life? What about my volunteer commitments? This and so much more spun around my head.

    Thank goodness for re-runs of How I Met Your Mother. Upon finding out the news, I spent hours obsessed with the saga of Ted and Robin while indulging in cookies and ice cream. After a few days, (and before my jeans got too tight), I picked myself up and started moving forward. I was reminded of some valuable lessons along the way.

    Feel the feels.

    Likely you will experience a range of feelings. Allow yourself to sit in it. You may find yourself grieving. This is natural; after all, something that was a significant part of your life has come to an end.

    Elisabeth Kubler-Ross made famous the five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Recognizing these stages can help with the coping process.

    Breathe. Do yoga. Meditate. Write in a journal. Create a vision board. This will help ground and center you and soon enough, you will start having clarity about how to move forward.

    Your tribe will always be your tribe.

    Connect with friends and family. Let people know what’s going on. Your tribe will rally and embrace you no matter where in the world they are—or you are. They will love you, encourage you, help you, and still think you’re great, even when you don’t. They will drag you out of the house, drink a cup of tea with you over a video call, and make sure you get to that yoga class. As tough as it is, talking about it helps.

    Ask for help.

    As a fairly independent person, I find asking for help uncomfortable. In the spirit of “be comfortable with being uncomfortable,” I reached out to my network and asked for help.

    One particular situation will always stick with me: I called someone I’d met at an event and told him the news. He asked me to call him back the following week so he could think about suitable connections. Sure enough, the next week, he was ready with a list of ten people that would be valuable to connect with. This blew my mind. He spent time in the following weeks crafting up personalized emails and making introductions. This was a reminder of the human spirit. People want to help—ask!

    Create a routine.

     Not having to wake up and be somewhere messed with my routine. Having a routine can help anchor us, while providing structure, building good habits, and creating efficiency.

    I found it helpful to design a new routine.

    I woke up at the same time every morning, did an hour of physical activity, meditated, and created a to-do list for the day.

    I found a neighborhood coffee shop that became my “office.” When I was not out meeting someone, I would go to the coffee shop and work on applications, networking requests, learning modules, goals, and volunteer projects.

    I ended my “work day” around the same time daily and would have an evening activity lined up. This helped me have structure, kept my mind engaged, and ensured I was making connections.

    Set goals.

    When a job loss hits, it is easy to feel as though your purpose has been lost too. A way to counter this is to set goals and reflect.

    Setting goals helps provide clarity and gives focus, motivation, and accountabilities. Examples of goals could be setting up a meeting or two per week, fixing up your CV, applying to two jobs weekly, or getting involved in volunteer work.

    Goals give you something to work toward, and at the end of the week you can take stock of what you’ve completed and feel a sense of accomplishment. Taking the time to reflect allows you to see your progress and be grateful for the support you have received, and it also gives you something to build on.

    Create a personal board of directors (PBOD). 

    This was a concept introduced to me a few years ago by one of the members of my own PBOD. They’re a trusted group of people who you can turn to for advice, who will share helpful resources and offer different viewpoints.

    As Lisa Barrington explains in her article, Everyone Needs A Personal Board Of Directors, “Your PBOD exists to act as a sounding board, to advise you and to provide you with feedback on your life decisions, opportunities, and challenges. They provide you with unfiltered feedback that you can’t necessarily get from colleagues or friends.”

    Companies are careful to select their board of directors, and you should be too. Some roles you may want to consider are: an accountability partner, someone who will ask the tough questions, one of your biggest fans, a connector, and a mentor.

    Your PBOD does not have to meet all together. You just have to stay connected to all of them regularly. I speak with at least one member of my PBOD weekly. It helps keep me on track and provides pushes me to think differently.

    Play.

    This can be a time filled with high highs and low lows. Take time to play. Laughter and play release endorphins in the brain. As stated on NPR’s podcast All Things Considered, adults play for many important reasons: building community, keeping the mind sharp, and keeping close the ones you love.

    Explore the city you’re in—check out all of the free things you can do. Spend time outside. Go on a vacation for a few days. It can help you gain perspective and reconnect you to what’s important.

    According to Dr. Stuart Brown, Founder of National Institute for Play, “What you begin to see when there’s major play deprivation in an otherwise competent adult is that they’re not much fun to be around.” Put yourself out there. Talk to strangers. Say yes. Have adventures.

    Celebrate.

    Yes, this sounds counterintuitive. You’re walking into the unknown, what’s there to celebrate?

    It’s not every day you get to put life on pause and recalibrate. Be grateful for the downtime. Think of this time as a gift. Be thankful for the experiences the job gave you. Celebrate the success and the struggles. Embrace the lessons—you will take these with you as you move forward. Be thankful for the relationships you formed and the people who helped you and will help you.

    While this period in life may sting, remember, it’s temporary.

    Take this opportunity to hit the pause button, reflect on what’s important, renew and build your network, and set new goals.

    Trust the process—this journey will add a richness to your life, give you empathy, and will build your resilience. The turbulence might shake you, but space is being created for new opportunities, and chances are it will work out better than you thought. Keep moving forward and enjoy all that this time will bring.

  • How to Live a Life You Love (Even If Others Doubt You)

    How to Live a Life You Love (Even If Others Doubt You)

    “Not all those who wander are lost.” ~J.R.R. Tolkien

    I will always remember those words.

    I had just decided to ditch my old life. Instead of pursuing a cushy career as a lawyer, I wanted to create a business as a freelance writer because it felt like a fulfilling thing to do.

    “You’ll never make it work. You’ll regret your decision,” a loved one told me.

    Those words pushed my buttons. I felt scared.

    What if I would regret it?

    Was I stupid, even delusional, for thinking there was an alternative to living a pre-planned life with a secure nine-to-five and a mortgage?

    Maybe I did think too much of myself, my abilities, and my potential? Maybe I was setting myself up for disaster?

    How to Find the Courage to Live a Life You Love

    Doubt is everywhere, isn’t it?

    People around you expect you to live your life in a certain way.

    Go to a good school, get a job that pays a comfortable salary, buy a house…

    And if you don’t? If you break the norm and live life differently? Whether that’s driving around the country in an RV, becoming a full-time yoga teacher in the Himalayas, or starting a passion project…

    Let’s put it this way. You will see a lot of raised eyebrows and hear a lot of surprised questions and doubtful side-remarks.

    I’m sure you know what I’m talking about. Comments like:

    “Why would you want anything other than what you already have? Don’t be so ungrateful.”

    “There is no way that will work out.”

    “Are you sure this is the best thing to do? Wouldn’t it be better to just stick to where you are now and see how it pans out?”

    The problem with constantly being questioned by everyone around you?

    Well, let’s take me as an example. When I heard those doubtful words (and many like them), I took them to heart.

    I subconsciously started believing them and created what in psychology is known as a self-fulfilling prophecy. When you believe something about yourself, that influences what you do and, consequently, your results.

    For example, if you internalize what others say about your choices, you won’t believe you can succeed. And that means you won’t, because you’ll never even get started.

    But here is the good news:

    You can get past all that doubt. You can find the courage you have within you to not only take a step forward but also to live life fully without looking back. Here’s how:

    1. Find positive examples around you.

    Think about someone who has succeeded at what you want to do—someone with a similar background, resources, skills, etc., or even fewer advantages.

    If they have succeeded, why couldn’t you?

    Let me tell you a secret (shh, no one else will know!):

    If someone else has done it, you likely can, too.

    I realized this early on.

    While, yes, the people around you might not understand how you can succeed, it’s enough that you do.

    This was a tool I used to stay confident and focused whenever someone told me (or hinted) that I should give up on my dream.

    I sought out and thought about people who had already made it happen.

    People who weren’t so different from me.

    If they could do it, I could, too.

    2. Send love and light to everyone around you.

    In Eat, Pray, Love, Liz Gilbert gets the following advice to get over David, her ex:

    “Send him some love and light every time you think about him, then drop it.”

    One of the biggest insights I had was that people don’t doubt us because they want to hurt us.

    No. Instead, they’re probably concerned about us.

    After all, if all their life they have only seen one thing work, it’s hard to see past anything but that way of life.

    Or maybe they’re projecting their own fears and insecurities on us.

    The thing is:

    We love security above almost anything else.

    If you defy that security, it makes you odd.

    So when they doubt you, it tells you nothing about your own abilities, but everything about their own fears and insecurities.

    However, their words can have a purpose. Maybe it’s to shatter your ego a bit so that you can come out of it stronger. Or it’s to give you a few bumps along the way so that you won’t get comfortable and take things for granted.

    Whatever it is, use the advice that helped Liz live in peace to get past their words.

    Send them love and light, then drop it.

    3. Words don’t define you. You do.

    Here’s the thing:

    Other people’s words define you only if you let them.

    At the end of the day, you create your own reality.

    Words are just words. You might say someone is “too straightforward,” but someone else might be appreciative of that person’s honesty.

    I can’t tell how much this helped me move past all the doubt.

    Yes, there were people expressing their subjective reality.

    But it didn’t have to be mine.

    I realized that I get to define who I am and what I’m capable of. And so do you.

    For example, if someone told you that you are “too emotional,” that doesn’t mean that you are too emotional or that being emotional is even a bad thing. That’s just their perception based on their unique set of beliefs, experiences, and projections.

    So how do you remind yourself of what a miracle worker you are?

    Write down all the things you appreciate about yourself. They could be qualities you like or nice things others have said about you.

    Every morning, look at that list.

    Someone that awesome has a high chance of succeeding with whatever they choose to do, right? Or at the very least, that person will learn, grow, and have one hell of an adventure.

    4. Become that supportive person you want in your life.

    If you’ve been allowing doubters to hold you back, it’s time to start letting supportive people into your life.

    People who cheer you on and make you believe you can do everything you want to do, and more.

    Well, it can all start with you.

    When I started offering encouraging words to others, I began attracting people who gave appreciation back.

    The most striking example was when I emailed someone whose writing I had found online and enjoyed. I told her how much I appreciated it. She wrote me back and thanked me… and we’ve been friends ever since! Not only that, but she’s had an incredibly positive impact on my life by being extremely supportive and encouraging.

    That’s it. These four steps helped me get past doubt, find my courage, and live life as I want to live it.

    Today I’m able to work and live anywhere and live a flexible and (in my definition) free life. I couldn’t be happier that I stuck with my decision.

    What’s that one thing you’re keeping yourself from doing?

    Practice these new mindset shifts daily. Soon enough, you will find that courage you have within you to live life exactly the way you want to live it.

  • How to Free Yourself from the Burden of Your Potential

    How to Free Yourself from the Burden of Your Potential

    “Changing directions in life is not tragic. Losing passion in life is.”

    We all have natural talents, and in some cases, we may have devoted years to honing our skills and turning them into a career. As we’re on the road to achieving our goal or fulfilling our potential, there may be this invisible weight that starts to bear down on us.

    That’s because there is a burden of potential. The burden is that fear that we’ll never reach our full potential, and the obligation and pressure we feel when we don’t want to continue on the path we’re on.

    Sometimes we tie our sense of self-worth to making this one dream come true, because we’ve told people that we’re trying, and we don’t want to seem like quitters or failures if we consider changing course. That fear can keep us glued to the track, even if we have a sense that we would be happier doing something else. It can be hard to believe there might be more than one way to reach our potential and live a satisfying life.

    My Own Struggle with The Burden

    I moved to Los Angeles to become a stand-up comedian.

    Once I got over my initial fears of getting on stage, the fear train just kept on coming. (This is one of the few forms of transportation that shows up with any consistency in LA.)

    The problem was that I was not a lost cause. I have memories of making packed rooms laugh and getting positive feedback from not only my friends but other comedians whose careers I had followed. I had potential.

    Did that mean I had to keep trying? Even on the days I bombed, or no one showed up because I was performing at an art gallery/coffee shop at 1am? Did I have an obligation to fulfill this potential?

    At the time I was getting into psychology and seriously considering changing tracks and becoming a therapist. I was afraid I was abandoning my dream and my potential. But my own therapist at the time reminded me that my own unfolding into my potential wasn’t done. I could be just as creative being a therapist as I could when I was doing stand-up.

    At the time I kind of rolled my eyes internally and prepared myself for the slow descent into mediocrity. I probably said, “Oh yeah, that’s a good way to look at it” while my doubts lingered. But now I know she was right.

    Though I still feel “in process” on my path, I’ve not only increased my creative output, I don’t feel that I’ve compromised on my dreams at all. Every day isn’t easy, and doubts still creep in, but I feel much more at peace with my choice.

    So how do you release the burden? Here are a few things to consider if the weight of your dream feels more like a shackle.

    1. Pick the path you won’t mind walking for a while.

    We all have heard the old adage “Life is about the journey and not the destination.” It’s frustrating but true. Nobody knows when their life might change or when they might reach their goal. Between the big achievements, there’s the slow meandering of everyday life. Pick the life you can love between the big achievements.

    What I loved about stand-up was the creativity, finding humorous ways to point to larger truths, and having a voice. What I didn’t like about stand-up was open mics, late nights in bars, drinking, most male comics (sorry, but there’s a lot to this for another article), and constant financial insecurity. So basically, most of it outside of being on stage. I didn’t like the day-to-day.

    You need to at least get some joy from the in-between stuff.

    These days, I like my day-to-day. Even on the days something “big” isn’t happening, I love that my day is filled with interesting conversations and making my own hours and being in bed by 10pm. Every day certainly isn’t perfect, and I still struggle some days but overall, I can do this for a while, in between accomplishments.

    2. Allow your dreams to evolve.

    Sometimes, we can get so attached to a certain idea of success that we don’t allow our vision to expand as we change and grow. If you play basketball, you might dream of playing in the NBA. If you are a dancer, it may be Julliard. But those aren’t the only ways to a happy life. In fact, there have been enough biopics to show that reaching the pinnacle of success isn’t always the path to happiness.

    In the Netflix show Losers, they show how a big upset or “loss” could lead to an even more successful outcome, one the athletes at the time couldn’t have imagined for themselves (like boxer Michael Bentt, who goes from defeat and despair to a successful Hollywood boxing coach for movies like Million Dollar Baby). “Success” seemed like a trophy, but it can morph into this whole wonderful life you couldn’t have predicted for yourself.

    3. Question why you have this dream.

    Sometimes a dream may not even be ours. It could be something our parents wanted to, but never did accomplish. It could be something we think society wants us to be, or we’re seeing someone else’s life and thinking, “If I could be like him/her/them, then I’d feel great about myself.”

    We need to investigate our chosen path and make sure we chose it for ourselves. Working with a mentor, coach, or therapist can help us look under the hood at our life path and see if it’s really where we want to go.

    Ultimately, it’s about learning to hang out between your ideas for your life and where you are now and understanding that how you feel now is the biggest indicator of how you will feel then. The accomplishment won’t be what makes you happy. The goal is to cultivate happiness wherever you are so it will be there wherever you end up

  • How I Stopped Being Busy and Why I’m Now More Fulfilled

    How I Stopped Being Busy and Why I’m Now More Fulfilled

    “Sometimes doing less is more than enough.” ~Kris Carr

    Two years ago I made a radical lifestyle shift.

    Prior to this change, I was constantly striving to do more, to achieve more, to be more. I was squeezing as much as I could into any given day. I was in conflict between building a business, working, studying, and having time for pleasure and fun. I was taking on way too much and losing myself in the process.

    Building a business is a lot of work, far more than I had imagined, and it takes time to generate consistent revenue that you can live off. In order to make ends meet it was necessary for me to have paid employment. I often had multiple part-time jobs, and at times I worked full-time running my business on the side.

    I studied and studied and studied for over a decade. When I completed one course I would start another. I have multiple certificates, diplomas, and even a master’s degree.

    I obsessively compared myself to others. Their achievements all seemed bigger and better than mine. This constant comparing made me feel inadequate and dissatisfied with my own successes. So I worked even harder to do more, achieve more, and be more.

    I felt guilty taking time to relax and play. I didn’t enjoy downtime because I felt like I was being lazy, and having a quiet moment also highlighted just how fatigued I was from living my workaholic lifestyle.

    Friends admired how much I was achieving, always commenting, “I don’t know how you do it all.” Quite frankly, neither did I. All I knew was that I was completely exhausted, I wasn’t happy, and I was becoming disconnected from the people I cherished the most.

    My life needed to change. I couldn’t continue to push through the fatigue anymore because I was beyond worn out. I wanted more joy and happiness in my life. I wanted to be more connected with those closest and dearest to me. I realized then I had to do less.

    Before I could start reducing my commitments, I had to first identify what was really important to me. These were the questions I asked myself:

    • What do I love to do?
    • What energizes me?
    • What brings me joy?
    • What do I really want?
    • What do I absolutely have to do?

    In an ideal world we’d get to only do what we love to do. But in reality, there are things we are obliged to do whether we want to or not. We can delegate some activities we don’t like doing, but other tasks only we can do.

    After identifying what was truly important to me and what I absolutely had to do—spending time with those closest and dearest to me, using my business as a way to teach and support others, engaging in activities that aided my physical and mental health so I could be my best self—it was time to stop doing things.

    There was a lot of discomfort with letting go. It was certainly an odd and unusual feeling to have space in my day, and I had to really fight the temptation to fill my days with an ever expanding to-do list.

    Next, I established boundaries to support doing less. Boundaries such as:

    • Not working after a set time each day
    • Not working weekends
    • Not checking emails or messages or looking at social media after a set time in the evening
    • Not checking emails, messages, or looking at social media in the morning until after breakfast
    • When on vacation, not working and limiting my screen time

    Setting boundaries meant I needed to get comfortable with saying no. I said no to being around people and in social situations that drained my energy, I said no to business opportunities that were not aligned with my overall business vision, I said no to further study and more qualifications because my ten-years plus of study and numerous qualifications were more than enough, and I said no to things that I really did not want to do.

    This was not easy for me. It is far easier for me to say yes, as I don’t like to let people down, and I don’t like to miss out on opportunities. But it was time for me to focus only on the essential and what would make the most impact to my life and business. I could no longer try to do everything.

    I had to remind myself that saying no was not actually a no, it was simply my prioritization, and by saying no I was saying yes to the things I really wanted and creating space for what matters the most to me.

    I also made a big mindset shift around my comparison with others. Instead of feeling less than others because of their success and achievements, I began to see others’ wins as an inspiration and reminder of what is possible.

    Additionally, it occurred to me that we only get to see other people’s highlights in life, work, and business, and this is a very inaccurate view. All we see is what they want us to see—their successes and achievements. We don’t get to see the hard work and failures they may also have experienced. Regardless of success and amazing wins, everyone experiences highs and lows.

    Much to my surprise, I also found out that successful people don’t say yes to everything; they’re much more strategic and only say yes to what will enhance themselves, and they’re very good at delegating. This knowledge changed my perspective around trying to do it all.

    By doing less I found I had more time, energy, and enthusiasm for the things most important to me. I felt more alive and joyful. The quality of my work I improved. And I became more present to life and people around me, which improved my relationships enormously.

    Occasionally I have moments where I feel like I should be doing more, but the happiness and fulfillment I feel from doing less overrides those moments. I can’t go back to how things used to be and experience the unhappiness and fatigue that resulted from constantly striving for more.

    Before anything gets on my calendar or I say yes to requests or tasks now, I ask myself these questions to guide my decisions:

    • How important is this to me?
    • Will this energize or exhaust me?
    • Do I absolutely have to do this?

    Doing less does not mean I do nothing; doing less means I spend more time doing what matters most to me, which makes my life happier and more fulfilling.

  • To Do What You Really Want to Do, You Need to Befriend your Inner Critic

    To Do What You Really Want to Do, You Need to Befriend your Inner Critic

    “Our ‘inside critics’ have intimate knowledge of us and can zero in on our weakest spots.” ~SARK

    We live in a world that often glorifies the power of positive thinking and affirmations.

    Don’t get me wrong, affirmations can be a powerful tool to help us acknowledge our self-worth. We need to learn to look for the positive and to be grateful for all the beautiful things in our lives if we want to be happy. Befriending your inner critic may seem to be in contradiction to these goals.

    A couple of years ago I began to pursue the creative life I had always dreamed about. I wanted to be happy and change the circumstances that weren’t bringing me joy. I had always wanted to be a writer, but I struggled with blocks on every level. Every book and blog I read seemed to agree that I needed to practice gratitude. They offered affirmations to help me get unstuck. But it didn’t seem to work.

    I struggled to be grateful. I couldn’t bring myself to believe the things I wanted to affirm in my life. My inner critic had long been in control of my thought patterns; trying to ignore the negativity seemed only to make it louder and more insistent.

    My inner critic is, at times, a little kid who will do anything to get the attention it craves. Sometimes it is a bitter old woman, muttering to herself in the corner about all the ways life has wronged her. Until I began to pay attention, I had no idea just how constant this background noise was in my brain.

    And it turns out I couldn’t learn to be a happier, more positive person without learning how to talk to my inner critic first. She was whispering in my ear all the time, trying to hold me back. I had to learn to listen to her fears and start to talk back and challenge what she said.

    The more adept I got at the process of befriending my inner critic, the more gratitude started to come naturally. It had been there all along but had been drowned out by all the negative noise I had been doing my best to ignore.

    Who or What is Your Inner Critic?

    Scientists tell us that we have a negativity bias. We are hardwired to anticipate danger and take action to avoid it.

    In the days when big brown bears were out to eat us for lunch, this was a useful adaptation. But when it comes to writing or any other creative pursuit, we are rarely in mortal danger.

    No one will die if I take the risk to write about the things in my heart. But my inner critic is aligned with my negativity bias and will do her best to tell me all the dangers that await me when I step out of my comfort zone and open myself to the creative possibilities of my life.

    Within my body the dangers can feel the same; it can feel as if I might die every time someone points out a missed comma. My inner critic is something of a drama queen, blowing everything out of proportion. The fear of criticism, the fear of judgment for every misspelled word, and the fear of rejection when I put myself out there all feel like they could be the end of the world.

    Your inner critic may also sound a lot like a hyper-critical parent or sibling or friend. Someone who let their own fears have too much power and tried to project them onto you. But it’s not helpful to blame others, or yourself, for negative thinking. Treating your inner critic with compassion and understanding does not mean you have to believe what she says.

    Once I knew this, I could see that my inner critic meant well but was misguided in her approach. She was trying to do her best for me, not wanting me to get hurt or disappointed if life failed to live up to my dreams. But I didn’t have to give her any power over whether or not I pursued my writing.

    Before I understood who my inner critic was and how to respond to her, the dialogue in my head went something like this:

    Me: “My writing is important, even if only to me.”

    Inner critic: “No, it isn’t. Who are you to create anything? Stop wasting your time. You don’t have what it takes.”

    And before I even get to be grateful to have the time and resources to be a writer, I’ve been stopped in my tracks. I may as well go check out cat videos on YouTube and distract myself back to feeling okay. What’s the point in wasting my time on this writing thing?

    And I was blocked and unable to move forward.

    What is it that you want to pursue in this life? How is your inner critic holding you back?

    What to Do About Your Inner Critic?

    In her book The Artist’s Way, Julia Cameron calls these critical thoughts “blurts.” They seem to come from nowhere and blurt out. I am calling the voice of my thoughts my inner critic; I find it helpful to personify the critical voices in my mind. Others use the phrase inner tribunal, or even your inner mean girl.

    In The Artist’s Way Cameron suggests that you make a list of all your blurts. First, find an affirmation about who you want to be, e.g.: “I am a creative being who has the power to create the life of her dreams.” Then write down all the negative things your inner critic throws at you when you think about the creative work you long to do.

    We often think giving too much attention to our negative thoughts amplifies them. But our aim is not to dwell on those things. And trying to push them to the back of your mind rarely makes them go away. Knowing what your inner critic is telling you gives you the power to turn those thoughts around.

    So once you have a list of all the things your inner critic is telling you, the next thing you need to do is gently approach each thought and ask if it is true.

    Maybe it could go something like this:

    Me: “I have the power to create the life of my dreams.”

    Inner critic: “But you never finish anything, and you’re disorganized, and you just don’t have the talent.”

    Me: “Thanks for the positive feedback. But yeah, I mean you may have a point, I’m always starting new things and….WAIT! That’s not right. I finish the important stuff. I finish the things that matter to me; not every idea I have is worth pursuing. And I’m organized enough. I can learn to be more organized if I need to, but I achieved x,y,z and …”

    Inner critic: “You’re wasting your time trying to write.”

    Me: “Am I? Watching cat videos on Facebook, that is wasting time. Although cats are cute. But trying to write? That’s growing, learning, and doing the thing I keep saying I want to do. How is that wasting time?”

    You get the picture. You can talk back to your inner critic. You don’t have to believe anything it says. Your power comes through questioning every negative thought and asking if it’s true. Once you know it isn’t true you can start moving forward with your plans.

    My inner critic is a needy child who wants attention. But I no longer believe what she says, and I don’t let her negativity control what I do and don’t do with my time.

    Stop Fighting Your Demons and Make Peace with Yourself

    We are often told to fight our demons, or slay the dragon of our negativity and break up with our inner critic. I no longer find this way of thinking helpful, for two reasons:

    1. It puts us to war against ourselves.

    2. It doesn’t work. My inner critic is amazingly tenacious!

    I have found it more helpful to befriend my inner critic. She really is just doing her best and trying to save me from me. The problem is she has no idea how to do this. I am learning to treat her like we all want to be treated—with kindness, understanding, and curiosity.

    She is free to believe whatever she wants even though it doesn’t make her happy. I’m listening but not letting her define the way I think anymore. Maybe she needs reassuring that everything is going to be okay. She lives in the most primitive part of our brains, the lizard brain that has no reason or logic, just fear.

    Her fears are just that, fears. What’s the worst that can happen? You work on your dreams, and it doesn’t work out. That’s going to hurt, but no one will die. You’ll be fine, and you will get over the disappointment. Besides, you’ve faced setbacks before and come out of them stronger.

    Which would bring you more regret? To have let your inner critic have the upper hand and never have tried? Or to have tried and failed and tried again?

  • 7 Ways to Know If Your Sacrifices Are Worth It

    7 Ways to Know If Your Sacrifices Are Worth It

    “The price of anything is the amount of life you exchange for it.” ~Henry David Thoreau

    Have you ever looked at the path you’ve chosen and questioned if your sacrifices have been worth it? If you’ve prioritized the “right” things, pursued worthy goals, and ultimately, made “good” choices?

    Have you ever wondered if you’ll one day look back on your life and regret not only what you did, but also what you didn’t do, because maybe you’ll feel you wasted your time or somehow missed out on something important?

    If you answered no to these questions, you’re my new hero. I admire anyone who lives with such presence they never question what they’re doing because they’re too busy living it.

    But I, a consummate over-thinker, am not that person.

    I started thinking about this just recently after listening to the second episode of Next Creator Up, a podcast I’m producing with my partner in many things and show host Ehren Prudhel.

    In this interview, LA-based actress and filmmaker Melissa Center talked a little about what she’s had to sacrifice for her dreams. And though she got emotional when discussing the very different lives her friends and family are living—lives with houses, children, and financial security—she ultimately concluded that, for her, all the sacrifices have been worth it.

    She explained her reasoning, and I admired her sense of certainty. Because I know how easy it is to doubt yourself in a culture that not only promotes the idea of “having it all” but also bombards us with images of people pursuing alternative, seemingly better paths.

    I also know how hard it is to feel confident in our decisions, particularly because of many of us are disconnected from ourselves. If we don’t know what we stand for, it’s awfully hard to ascertain what’s worth prioritizing and what’s worth giving up.

    With this in mind, I decided to create this list of ways to know if your sacrifices are worth it. A lot of this comes down to knowing yourself.

    If you’ve been questioning your path, perhaps this will help you fully commit to it—or make the tough decision to change directions.

    7 Ways to Know if Your Sacrifices Are Worth It

    1. What you’re doing aligns with your values.

    We all have different core values—things we stand for and regard as crucial for our overall life satisfaction.

    When we live in alignment with our values, and honor them through our choices, we feel a sense of peace, even if our lives are sometimes challenging. When we we’re out of alignment, we feel internal conflict.

    For example, my top values are freedom, creativity, adventure, family, and integrity.

    I could never sacrifice my integrity to make money. Sure, I’d love to roll around on a bed full of cash, but the pain of acting without integrity would override the joy of financial abundance.

    I could never choose a lifestyle that leaves little room for spontaneity or limits my ability to visit my family. No matter what the rewards of said lifestyle, I would ultimately feel conflicted and dissatisfied.

    If your choices require you to sacrifice the things that matter most to you, regardless of the potential rewards, you will ultimately feel unfulfilled. If your sacrifices don’t threaten what’s most important to you—or at least not beyond the short-term—then they’re far more likely to feel worth it.

    2. You’re living your own version of success.

    Much like we all have our own values, we all have our own definition of success. Contrary to what our culture might suggest, there’s no one-size-fits-all scenario.

    My grandmother, who was one of my greatest heroes, lived a life very different from mine to date. She lived all of her eighty-two years in the same city, married young and had four kids, and devoted every bit of her free time to her family.

    She rarely traveled, didn’t have much money, and seemed perfectly content—ecstatic, even—to live the same day over and over again.

    If you gave her a table crammed with her loud Italian kids and grandkids, and a big pot of pasta to feed them, she was happy.

    Because she valued family, she never complained when caring for my grandfather, who ultimately lost both of his legs to diabetes. Caring for him took much of her time and energy, and she rarely did much for herself.

    But this—this love, this loyalty, this generosity of spirit—this is what defined a successful life to her, so ultimately, it was all worth it.

    Ask yourself what success looks like to you, and why. What do you do? What do you give? What do you gain?

    If you’re living your own version of success, then the satisfaction of enjoying what you have likely far outweighs the pain of accepting what you lack.

    3. You’re not trading happiness today for the hope of happiness tomorrow.

    You may have read the story of the Mexican fisherman before, but if not, here’s a condensed version:

    An American investment banker ran into a local fisherman in a small Mexican village and, seeing the several large tuna in his boat, asked the man how long it took him to catch them.

    When the fisherman said it didn’t take long, the banker questioned why he didn’t stay out longer and catch more. The fisherman said he had enough to meet his family’s needs.

    When asked what he did with the rest of his time, he answered, “I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, take siestas with my wife, Maria, stroll into the village each evening where I sip wine, and play guitar with my amigos. I have a full and busy life.”

    Hearing this, the banker offered the fisherman his help in creating a business—so he could buy more boats, catch more fish, and eventually be at the helm of an empire. This would require him to relocate, but in fifteen to twenty years, he’d be rich.

    The fisherman asked what he would do then, to which the banker responded, “Then you would retire. Move to a small coastal fishing village where you would sleep late, fish a little, play with your kids, take siestas with your wife, stroll to the village in the evenings where you could sip wine and play your guitar with your amigos.”

    I think of this often when making life choices. If there’s nothing about an opportunity that excites me and fills me passion and purpose—if it’s solely about creating some ideal life down the road, or worse, meeting an ego need for success or validation—it’s most likely not worth my time and energy.

    Stop and ask yourself: Is this is a process I can throw myself into with enthusiasm? Or am I sacrificing potential joy now in the hope of finding joy later?

    4. You could be satisfied with your choice even if you didn’t reach your ideal outcome.

    Building on the last point, you know your sacrifices are worth it if you could be content with your choices regardless of where they lead you.

    If you need to make a certain amount of money, or reach your ideal goal exactly as you visualize it, to justify what you’ve given up, then you’re setting yourself up for potential heartache. Because there are no guarantees in life.

    No matter how hard you work, how much time you devote, or how smart or talented you are, you could one day realize that your efforts didn’t pay off in the way you hoped they would.

    Or, they could pay off for a while, and then something could change—you might have to switch gears to care for a loved one, or could lose everything due to circumstances you couldn’t possibly have predicted.

    If you could look at the time spent and conclude it wasn’t wasted—because you enjoyed yourself, felt a sense of purpose, or made a difference for other people—then in the end, your sacrifices are more likely to feel worth it.

     5. You’re still able to meet your needs, despite your sacrifices.

    When asked what surprised him most about humanity, the Dalai Lama said, “Man. Because he sacrifices his health in order to make money. Then he sacrifices money to recuperate his health. And then he is so anxious about the future that he does not enjoy the present; the result being that he does not live in the present or the future; he lives as if he is never going to die, and then dies having never really lived.”

    No rewards—monetary or otherwise—are worth sacrificing our physical, mental, and emotional well-being.

    If you’re working so hard that you have little time to eat well, exercise, and get sufficient sleep—and you end up overweight, exhausted, and on track for a heart attack—would any reward or glory really justify it?

    There are many things I would sacrifice for a cause I believe in or a dream that excites me—I don’t need luxuries, I don’t mind buying used, and I also don’t care if I own a car or a home.

    But I won’t sacrifice the things I need to function at my best. I can’t be present, and I’m no good for anyone or anything, if I’m physically weakened and so stressed that I’m constantly ready to snap.

     6. You only or mostly question your sacrifices when you compare yourself to other people.

    Though I’ve sacrificed a sense of community because I’ve chosen a free-spirited, nomadic life of adventure, I don’t often regret the path I’ve taken for all the reasons listed above.

    But every now and then I compare myself to other people and question if perhaps I should have what they have.

    I see people on Facebook who are a lot like my grandmother—lifers in one town, well connected to many, dialed into local causes—and I wonder if I’ve prioritized the wrong things.

    I’ve lived the life George Bailey fantasized about in the 1940’s holiday classic. But wasn’t his life lauded as somehow more wonderful than the life of an adventure-seeking dreamer and wanderer—and also far more meaningful?

    I see old friends on Instagram building new memories with people they’ve hung around with for decades, and lament that, unlike them, I’d have a hard time creating a large bridal party if I were to ever get married.

    Aren’t connections the most important thing in life? And do mine really count if they involve less face time—if I’m not at every family dinner, every holiday, and every milestone?

    But when I put my phone down and dig my heels into my own life, I remember that no matter what I choose, it’s a choice not to do something else. No one has it all. And those who have what I lack likely envy and glamorize what I have at times, just like I sometimes romanticize their circumstances.

    If you feel happy on the whole when you’re fully present on your path, and only question it when you take your eyes off the road, then odds are, your sacrifices are worth it.

     7. Your current path brings you meaning.

    We are all wired to seek pleasure and avoid pain—what positive psychologists refer to as hedonic happiness.

    This is what we feel when we do something that boosts our mood, and it’s why we often chase varied highs. We sometimes think “the good life” means abundant leisure time, fun, and excitement. And those things are definitely awesome, which is why we’re often willing to make sacrifices in the present in the hope of having more of them in the future (see #3).

    But there’s another kind of happiness that doesn’t depend on hedonistic pleasure. It’s called eudaimonic happiness.

    This is what we experience when we have meaning in our lives. When we devote ourselves to something bigger than ourselves. When we take on new challenges, grow, and use our strengths to contribute to the greater good in some way.

    If you’re doing something that feels deeply meaningful to you—if you’ve dedicated your life to a cause, you feel engaged in your devotion to it, and you feel proud of the impact you’re making—it will be a lot easier to make peace with sacrifices.

    This might mean working at a non-profit that pays you very little but enables you to make a tangible difference in other people’s lives.

    Or volunteering during your free time, which limits some of your social options but fills you with a sense of pride and purpose.

    Or raising children and going without sometimes, knowing your sacrifices are directly benefitting them and enabling them to grow into strong, healthy people.

    Ask yourself: Do I feel a sense of meaning? Am I proud of the person I’m being? Am I doing something that matters not just to me but also the world at large? Odds are, if you answer yes to these questions, you’ll look back without regret for what you gave up in order to give what you gave.

    —

    The number of realities we each could be living is absolutely mind-blowing if you think about it. Change any one choice and, through the butterfly effect, our lives could look completely different.

    And each of those little worlds would have its own gifts and challenges. In every possible scenario we’d have some rewards, some sacrifices, and some occasional doubts about whether the former justifies the latter.

    The good news is, as long as we’re still breathing, it’s never too late to change directions. If ever we recognize we’re not being the people we want to be or doing what we really want to do, we can take a new path, or even pave one where there is none.

    At any time we can decide to rebuild our lives around what we value, live our own version of success, and create a life of joy and meaning.

    —

    If you’re interested in listening to Melissa’s interview, about her experiences with her short and first feature film and the sacrifices of being an artist, you can find it here. And if you haven’t heard the first episode yet, with singer/songwriter Kelley McRae, you can find it here. 

  • How to Keep Going When You’re Not Good at Something New

    How to Keep Going When You’re Not Good at Something New

    I believe the people who are the most satisfied in life are those who feel the most alive.

    We generally feel most alive when we propel ourselves out of our comfort zone and seize new possibilities for meaning, excitement, and passion. But unfortunately, we’re wired to do what feels easy and safe, and it rarely feels easy or safe to be a beginner.

    No one wants to feel like Bambi taking his first wobbly first steps—weak, inept, like he could fall over at any time.

    And no one wants to feel as vulnerably exposed as Napoleon Dynamite during his awkward “Vote for Pedro” dance, an audience of underwhelmed peers staring blankly back at him, possibly judging in their heads.

    We want to feel competent, confident, and proud. Like we know what we’re doing and we’re doing it well. But that’s not usually how it works when we’re just starting out.

    Recently I’ve been helping produce a new podcast called Next Creator Up, a show that helps people get out of their own way and create what they want to create. In the first episode, Ehren Prudhel, my partner in many things, interviewed singer/songwriter Kelley McRae.

    After spending years touring, Kelley wanted to focus more on connection, community, and giving back, and ultimately started Song Rise Arts—a non-profit through which she helps underprivileged youth share their stories through song.

    Though her interview was full of aha moments for me, one thing that really stuck out for me was a discussion about getting a win quickly.

    She shared how she helps her kids complete something on day one so that they feel proud of themselves and motivated to continue.

    It’s such a simple idea, and yet incredibly powerful.

    Think about it: How many times have you tried something new and hard, felt overwhelmed, and then decided it wasn’t for you?

    I remember when I was really into step aerobics in my twenties. I liked to stand in the front row in class so I could see my form in the mirror.

    Since I’d been taking classes for months, I never felt insecure being front and center. In fact, I felt confident and proud of myself for hopping around up there with such precision of movement—so much so that it blinded me to the potential consequences of stationing my newby friend right beside me in the spotlight.

    Looking back, I can’t believe it didn’t occur to me that she likely wouldn’t appreciate being quite so visible while learning something new.

    Sure enough, she struggled throughout the entire class, every misstep reflected back to the whole group in the mirror; she felt discouraged and embarrassed; and she never again came back.

    I’ve had many similar experiences like this myself.

    Like the time I decided to learn to cook. One would think, after my aerobics experience, I would have recognized the importance of starting small and safe. But no.

    I didn’t try an easy recipe for one simple dish. I tried a four-course gourmet meal, burned most of it, then decided to go back to sandwiches and frozen food. Because I just wasn’t meant to cook.

    Then there was the time when I first tried painting. It would have made sense to find a class for beginners or a YouTube tutorial for something basic. But instead I overspent on art supplies, including a massive canvas, and quickly felt discouraged when I realized my piece looked like something I’d painted blindfolded. And drunk.

    In both situations, I expected instant perfection and set myself up for failure—not just in the moment but also in the long-term. I went from someone who could learn to cook and paint, in time, to someone who was afraid to try. Because I sucked at both… or so I thought.

    I now understand the importance of creating an early win, and continuing to create small wins over time, which I’ve learned requires me to do the following:

    • Adopt a growth mindset
    • Start small
    • Hold reasonable expectations
    • Avoid comparisons
    • Give myself credit

    If you want to feel more alive, and have identified a way to stretch into new territory, this is the path to seeing it through.

    Adopt a growth mindset.

    This is a crucial first step because you have to believe in your capacity to grow and improve, or you likely won’t allow yourself to keep going after your first imperfect attempt.

    Psychology professor Carol Dweck coined the terms “fixed mindset” and “growth mindset” over thirty years ago after studying thousands of kids and recognizing two opposing belief systems that influenced their efforts and their outcomes.

    People with a “fixed mindset” believe that success is based on innate ability—meaning you either have it or you don’t, and if you fail, it’s confirmation of the latter. It means you’re not talented enough, smart enough, or good enough, so there’s no point in trying any further because you’ll just make yourself look bad.

    People with a “growth mindset” believe that failures are part of learning, and if they keep trying, they can get better over time. Because they believe this, they keep showing up and eventually confirm their own belief. They may feel embarrassed when starting out, but they understand this is just part of the process.

    It turns out growth truly is possible for anyone. Research in brain plasticity has shown that through repeated practice—at anything—we can build new pathways in our brain, enabling continued progress.

    I remember when I was in Amsterdam, where more people ride bikes than drive cars. I had never ridden a bike in a street before, or ridden a bike at all since childhood, and I struggled to start up again whenever a red light turned green.

    On my first day, I was holding up bike traffic at an intersection as I tried to get myself going, so I turned my head and told the biker behind me, “Sorry, I’m not really good at this!” With a huge grin, he responded, “Not yet!”

    And he was right. By the end of my month there, I was stopping and starting like a pro, something that couldn’t have happened if I kicked my bike to the curb in resignation on day one.

    So before you go into this new thing, whatever it is, no matter how hard, recognize that ineptitude is just a starting point, and if you put in the time, even just a little every day, you will eventually see results. 

    Start small.

    When we feel a sense of accomplishment, it activates the reward center of our brain, releasing the neurochemical dopamine. Because we feel good, we’re then driven to do more.

    And the thing is, we don’t actually need to achieve massive success to feel a sense of accomplishment. Even a small win—like writing one section of a blog post or signing up for a class—can motivate us to keep moving forward.

    This isn’t relevant only when pursuing passions and professional goals; the same principle applies with everything you might want to improve in your life.

    If you’re struggling with depression or anxiety, applying one lesson or tool from therapy or personal research can help you feel encouraged and inspire more healthy choices.

    If you’d like to improve your financial situation, unsubscribing from one store newsletter or bringing lunch instead of buying it can empower you to make more smart money decisions.

    Or, if you’re trying to improve your health, walking ten minutes on a treadmill or smoking one fewer cigarette today could help you find the motivation to keep taking tiny steps forward.

    This was actually the most helpful approach I used when recovering from bulimia. The treatment centers preached abstinence, and for good reason, I know—setbacks can have fatal consequences when you’re putting such strain on your heart.

    But I was too far in to simply stop, and every slipup created massive shame, which then led to more slipups. So instead of expecting perfection, I told myself to do one fewer disordered behavior today, and to do at least the same tomorrow, or one fewer than that if I could.

    Sure enough, I eventually started to feel proud of myself, my pride built momentum, and through that momentum (along with continued therapy to address trauma from my past), I slowly healed.

    Hold reasonable expectations.

    In order to start small, you have to be willing to let go of any unrealistic expectations about what you should be able to accomplish.

    This isn’t always easy to do. We live in a culture that promotes extraordinary natural talent as an indicator of worth, and celebrates “overnight success” as the ultimate sign of accomplishment.

    But the truth is, even people with natural talent need to work hard to excel at their craft, and “overnight success” usually happens after months and years of work that no one knew to recognize, because it wasn’t public.

    So let go of the idea that you should be anywhere other than where you are. Release yourself from the burden of believing your current skill level says anything about who you are as a person, or what’s possible for you.

    If you’re going to expect anything as you start doing something new, expect that:

    • You may not be very good at it.
    • You may feel embarrassed if other people are watching.
    • You may follow every small win with (what feels like) a small failure.
    • You may feel frustrated and wish you could do more than you can do.
    • You may not be able to live up to your own taste level (another insight from Kelley’s interview).
    • You may want to give up because it feels too hard.
    • You may make slower progress than you’d like.
    • But if you accept all of the above and keep showing up anyways, you will eventually see results.

    Avoid comparisons.

    There’s a quote I love that reads, “Don’t compare your chapter one to someone else’s chapter twenty.” I’d extend this further to include, “Or someone else’s chapter one.”

    It’s tempting to judge ourselves based on someone else’s capabilities or accomplishments, especially since they’re in our face all day, every day, on social media. But all this does is feed into our insecurities and doubts and leave us feeling inadequate and discouraged.

    We’re all starting from different places, with different backgrounds, strengths, and skill levels. And we all have different wants, priorities, and values. Maybe you value balance, so you’re moving more slowly than someone else who works around the clock and deprioritizes family time and sleep.

    You could compare yourself to that person, but would it really be a fair comparison?

    And even if you are making a fair comparison, does it actually serve you in any way?

    I’m not going to lie; knowing this doesn’t always make it easy for me to stop comparing myself to other people.

    I sometimes see people who seem to be doing better, question if maybe they’re just fundamentally better—not just at whatever they’re doing, but also as people—and then get stuck in a cycle of shame and self-judgment. And sometimes this all happens so quickly I don’t even realize I’m doing it.

    If you find it hard to avoid comparisons, then maybe a better goal, for now, is to avoid comparison triggers.

    If you know you get down on yourself when you look at a specific person’s Facebook updates, unfollow them. If you can’t read about the greats in your niche without feeling like a failure, don’t read about them.

    Keep your eyes on your own path so you’re less apt to convince yourself your small wins are insignificant.

    Give yourself credit.

     A small win only has value if you acknowledge it, so stop and create some self-satisfaction by asking yourself the following questions:

    • What did I do right or well?
    • Why was this impressive or noteworthy for me specifically, based on my unique personality, past, and challenges?
    • What fears did I have to push through to do this?
    • In what way did this push me out of my comfort zone?
    • Why is this small win actually a big win?
    • What would I say to a friend or my child if they had a small win like this?

    Proactively choose to build yourself up for doing whatever you did, no matter how small, and you’ll be more likely to do the same, or even more, tomorrow. Then you’ll give yourself more credit, feel even more motivated, and slowly, over time, become the person you want to be and do the things you want to do.

    —

    If you’re interested in hearing the podcast episode I mentioned at the start of this post, you can find it here, along with detailed show notes.

    I’m incredibly proud of Ehren, the show’s host, who’s pushed himself outside of his comfort zone with this new venture, and has been collecting small wins over the last several months leading up to this launch.

    And I’m beyond inspired by Kelley McRae, a talented musician and brilliant teacher who’s making a tremendous difference for low-income kids by enabling them to tell their stories through song.

  • Why I’m Done Standing on the Sidelines of Life

    Why I’m Done Standing on the Sidelines of Life

    “If you spend too much time thinking about a thing, you’ll never get it done. Make at least one definite move daily toward your goal.” ~Bruce Lee

    It’s easy to criticize others.

    It’s easier to sit outside a situation than be in it.

    Ironically, it’s easy to belittle someone else’s efforts without making any real effort ourselves.

    The safe side of the ropes is an easier choice than committing to being in the ring, truly baring something. It’s also a softer option.

    It’s much harder to have skin in the game.

    It takes guts, and a healthy degree of get up and go, to put ourselves out there. To put our work and ideas out there with no guarantee they will gain any traction. To commit ourselves to competition, with no guarantees our hands will be raised in victory.

    Personal Experiences: The ‘Writer’ Who Never Writes

    I know all about living on the safe side of the ropes, as for too many years I was a ‘writer’ who never wrote.

    Some people are blessed to know what they want to do with their lives from an early age. They follow that path, committed to making it work wholeheartedly. No backup plan required.

    I’ve never been that person. I’ve tried; I’ve tripped and fallen into all sorts of ways of earning a living. And I eventually landed in a space that fits my lifestyle for the most part, with the amount of freedom I have, and also pays me well for my time as a consultant and company of one (me).

    The downside is that this career path doesn’t always fulfill me. There is a creative gap at times.  I have ideas that don’t always belong in my client work but burn away at me anyway.

    Writing has always been something I’ve been drawn to. I’ve read books throughout my life and have always appreciated the beauty in a perfectly framed run of words.

    Much earlier in my life I had a few unspectacular efforts to write some articles. Some work ended in print, but most didn’t make the cut. Even back then, perhaps fueled with a young man’s inflated ego, I fancied myself as something of a writer but lacked the work ethic or skills to back up my ideals.

    I wasn’t willing to commit myself to the craft, not even close. I wasn’t willing to have ten ideas rejected by editors so the eleventh would possibly be accepted. So, other than crafting business cases or technical process documents for consulting clients, I didn’t write (creatively).

    I occasionally promised myself I’d write, I even postured that I could do better than those who did, but I continued to remain passively on the sidelines.

    Until one day, the inertia all became too much. Yes, the safe side of the ropes was easier to some degree, but it was also uncomfortable. An itch was being left unscratched. I decided it was time I put my skin in the game.  

    So I started a simple blog. Two blogs, in fact. One based on some of the ideas that had been burning away at me and one based around haiku. (I also fancied myself as a poet who, you guessed it, rarely wrote any actual poetry!)

    Did the world stand up and take notice? Of course not. In fact, I look back now and think my initial efforts were pretty awful and unstructured (some would argue my writing remains that way). However, something magical did start to happen in me.

    The creative itch and ideas that had gnawed at me started to see light. I started to commit more time to writing. I started to make it a priority in my days and weeks. I strived to get better.

    This process all started eight or so years ago. The blogs have changed (one being retired), but my writing has continued. Books have followed. Writing has become an important part of my life. An important way for me to express myself and share something in me that may have remained covered up otherwise.

    Is it how I pay all my bills now? No, and I’m really not sure that’s the point. Committing myself to the process of making my work the best it can be, of trying to make today’s work better than yesterday’s, is reward in of itself. I have invested myself in the process.

    Do I still dream of a day where I’m a full-time writer and the words I labor over support my lifestyle fully and pay for my travels? You bet I do. However, I’m also going to keep turning up to write regardless.  I’ll carry on turning up to write until I feel I have nothing left to say, and then I’ll stop. And, to be clear, I hope I never stop while breath remains in me.

    I’ve realized that the very act of putting skin in the game is reward enough. I’m in the (writing) ring, baring a little and sometimes a lot of myself. It’s hard work at times, but it’s also exhilarating.

    The Nobility of Applying Ourselves

    There is risk attached to putting ourselves in the mix. Daring where others dare not. Committing ourselves when others second guess, or stand on the sidelines. But there is something to be earned in putting ourselves to the test. It’s where we will often learn most about ourselves. It’s where we grow. Sometimes it’s even where we define ourselves.

    To test ourselves is to learn to trust in ourselves. Whether we try and succeed immediately, or more realistically, try and fall down, pick ourselves up again, and then succeed, each time we apply ourselves we bolster the habit of getting out of the blocks. We learn to embrace, and revel in, taking action. We liberate ourselves.

    Putting ourselves to the test can take many guises. It could be a first public speaking engagement, it could be a first marathon, it could be a first child, it could be flying solo with a business idea, it could be signing up for a competition. It could involve testing ourselves physically or mentally (and often both at once).

    There is honor to be found in applying ourselves. There is respect to be found in trying to be the best we can be. There is reward to be found in the toil of striving to get better, little by little, regardless of the outcome.

    Our Choices Shape Us

    The choice is ours to make.

    We can live a passive life, never truly putting ourselves out there, and possibly shooting down the efforts of others. We can live a life of itches never fully scratched. We can leave dreams left un-chased.

    Or we can commit ourselves to an all together different route.

    We can commit to try harder, to do better, to be better. We can bare something of ourselves to the world. We can put our skin firmly in the game. We can seek to make an impact in our own small but significant way.

  • Fellow Dreamers: If You Feel Like a Fool, You’re on the Right Track

    Fellow Dreamers: If You Feel Like a Fool, You’re on the Right Track

    “Move out of your comfort zone. You can only grow if you are willing to feel awkward and uncomfortable when you try something new.” ~Brian Tracy

    I’m a fool.

    Well, it’s more accurate to say I’ve been a fool often, and I’m ashamed.

    My life, no different from many, has had some successes but also many setbacks and outright failures. I suppose this is just another way of saying I’ve lived.

    The problem is that I’ve allowed my mistakes, errors, and failures to hold me back.

    We’ve all felt like a fool before, but when has doing so made it more difficult to be the you you’ve always wanted to be? To try the things you’ve wanted to try? To live the life you’ve wanted to live?

    I’ve never mentioned this to anyone before. Not my mother, brother, best friends, my girlfriend, or even a random person I’ve met in another country who would never see me again nor remember my name. Why? Because I was a fool and I’m ashamed.

    I’m ashamed, not because I’ve made a fool of myself, but because I allowed it to rob me of what could have been.

    In college, which now seems like forever ago, I decided I would finally act on my musical impulse. I had long loved music, and nearly anything that could be played on a guitar. I had finally decided I would take one step to learning how to play.

    So, with one of my elective credits, I enrolled in a Guitar 100 class. I didn’t rent a guitar, just in case I didn’t like it. I’ve always been in the habit of just jumping into things, perhaps a little too recklessly. I get excited! I just bought the guitar, a big ole case, a box of picks, then rolled into class, wide eyed, dreaming of the day when I would play my favorite songs, or better yet, write and play my first hit.

    It was a night class, and it was the first one, so the class was packed. It was in a large room, there must have been sixty or more people. Everyone had a guitar in hand.

    The instructor showed us a few basics, such as where to position our fingers. Then, he said to the class, let’s do the fun part; let’s strum.

    The room all at once came alive with the joyous and playful sounds of sixty strumming guitar hopefuls. Everyone was into it. We were strumming, and strumming, and strumming. People were having a blast, you could see it on their faces. There was an electricity in the air. We were all making music, but then it stopped.

    Well, everyone but me.

    I was so excited, off in my own world of acoustic joy, that I missed the instructor’s signal to stop. The result was fifty-nine other silent guitars, and me strum, strum, strumming away.

    Once I noticed I was the only one jamming, I quickly stopped, but the class laughed.

    They weren’t being mean. In fact, it was funny. Years removed I could see, as if it were part of a movie scene, how funny it would be to have a guy in Guitar 100 jamming with his eyes closed as if he was on the verge of becoming the next Clapton, while everyone else was awaiting their next lesson.

    But at the time, it felt devastating. I’d made a fool of myself, and they all saw it. I thought to myself, I can’t go back to this class. I’m a rookie, bound to make more mistakes, bigger mistakes, even more embarrassing mistakes. I couldn’t sit next to the same people again, and wonder what they were thinking.

    So, I quit.

    I never played the guitar again. My new guitar went straight into storage. I finished the class that night, but never went back. When friends or family asked me why I stopped, I would say, well, my fingers hurt. I have soft hands, and I didn’t have time anyway. That was true, but it wasn’t the truth.

    I’ve never been so ashamed. Not for making a fool of myself, but for quitting over something so ridiculous. What would life have been like if I’d learned how to play?

    I let the cascading rumination and fears and insecurity rob me of what could have been. I used a simple mistake as an excuse to quit and took my shame and ran away.

    I’ve been thinking a lot about the guitar recently because I’m now trying to do something that matters again.

    Very soon I’ll submit my new podcast to iTunes, and soon after that, I’ll launch.

    It almost didn’t happen. The process wasn’t easy. In fact, I’ve looked like a fool a few times. I’ve been considering a podcast for a couple years. In fact, I’ve had the URL for Next Creator Up for over a year. I even conducted one of my interviews six months ago.

    I’ve nearly quit, multiple times. I’ve had a lot of excuses, some truer than others. There are nearly a million podcasts, why would someone listen to mine? It’s not unique enough; it won’t stand out. I’m not an expert. I’m not funny, successful, interesting, I’m not “fill in the blank.”

    I’ve wanted to be a host since high school. I grew up listening to sportscasters and watching The Tonight Show. They got to discuss cool ideas, interact with inspiring guests, and tell fun stories.

    That has been me without a mic. I love talking with people, listening to their stories, and learning from their experiences.

    But just loving something and wanting to be something are not enough. You’ve got to be willing to push past feeling like a fool.

    My first guest had to listen to me “ah” and “um” myself into incoherent statements, followed by ridiculous questions. Thankfully you can edit a podcast.

    Another guest saw that I didn’t press record, after my illustrious introduction. Rookie mistake.

    But every time I’ve interviewed a creative professional who has put themselves out there—put their ideas, thoughts, and feelings on the line—I’ve been inspired. I’ve learned something from each guest I’ve interviewed so far, but more than that, they’ve kept me going.

    I was once working on a screenplay where the mentor character said to the protagonist, “If you’re afraid to bomb, you’ll never blow up.”

    I never realized until recently that that was meant for me. Also, it should come as no shock that because that script was so personal, I was afraid to finish it. And, yes, the main character played the guitar.

    More than anything in life I’ve been afraid to put myself out there. To be vulnerable publically. I could talk to anyone, but not with a mic. I could make a crowd laugh, but not on cue. I could act, but not on camera. When it mattered, I didn’t show up.

    I would always tell myself that the next time, I would do it. I would make it happen. There was always a next time. I let myself of the hook.

    I suspect I’m not the only one who’s done this. No one wants to feel exposed or open themselves up to judgment. No one wants to show how much they care—to put their heart and their passion on the line—and then fail, publicly.

    So we hide. We hold off. We wait for a better time. The perfect time. As if that’s really a thing.

    We sit clutching our creative scars—the harsh words from unsupportive people, the bad experiences, the false starts and failures, all the times we’ve felt foolish—and we use it all as an excuse to hold ourselves back.

    We don’t want to feel those uncomfortable emotions again. But those emotions are the gateway to beauty, innovation, and fulfillment. Not just fulfillment for us, but for all the people who’ll be inspired by what we have to share. People whose lives could be changed for the better because of us, if only we pushed through our initial discomfort.

    I want to push through that discomfort. I want to show my passion, because everything beautiful in this world came from someone who cared more than they feared. Or at least acted like they did.

    Next Creator Up is the living embodiment of what I hope to be and whom I’ve been running from. It’s a call to arms. The path of most resistance that I’ve been resisting. It is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But I’m doing it.

    It’s April Fools’ Day, and we are bound to hear of or be a part of a fun, practical joke or zany gotcha, or be party to or even the victim of a prank. And it’s all in good fun.

    But for the rest of the year, if you feel like a fool, I hope you know you’re not alone, and I hope you don’t give up. I hope you play your music, make your art, and explore your passions and talents.

    So today, let’s agree to be okay with feeling or looking a little foolish.

    Instead of being ashamed for strumming a little too long, or tripping over our words, or doing whatever we do imperfectly, let’s see it as a sign we’re on the right track, because we’re showing up and putting ourselves out there. We’re pushing through our fear, knowing it’s the only way to be the people we want to be and do the things we want to do.

    We all have something to say and something to give. We all have a passion and a gift. So let’s stop hiding and share them.

  • Slow, Imperfect Progress Is Better Than None at All

    Slow, Imperfect Progress Is Better Than None at All

    “When perfectionism is driving, shame is riding shotgun, and fear is that annoying backseat driver.” Brené Brown

    Sometimes I feel like the girl who cried film.

    I first wrote a blog post introducing Tiny Buddha Productions three years ago, and despite my earnestness, passion, and enthusiasm, I have only one short film to show for myself.

    When I was working on this short, which we filmed partly in my apartment—in my bedroom, amid the worn clothes and shoes in my walk-in closet even—I felt more alive and aligned than I’d felt in years.

    I was doing something I’d wanted to do since college, in LA, the mecca of filmmaking, with a team of talented people I admired and respected.

    I was telling a story that felt deeply personal and authentic to me, sometimes tearing up behind the camera because it was finally happening, after months of planning, failing, and trying again.

    It kind of felt like a Jerry Maguire moment. I wasn’t my father’s son again, but I was the old me again—the me who felt most at home amidst lights, costumes, and makeup, even when I was standing back and watching other people shine. The me who felt a sense of belonging in a family of oddball actors and crewmembers who seemed like reflections of myself.

    Then we released the short. And it seemed to resonate with people. I was proud of what we’d done. Proud of who I’d become. And I couldn’t wait to write the next. Except I couldn’t.

    I couldn’t think of another idea that felt good enough. I’d start brainstorming, judge everything I wrote as cliché and uninspired, then delete it all, like a frustrated kid scribbling over a coloring book page filled outside the lines.

    Endless blank pages mocked and pressured me, telling me I was a sad excuse for a screenwriter and I better get it together soon because time was running out.

    It was like I was timing myself running a mile, except I was too scared of my potential inadequacy to move my legs. So I just stood there, staring at the finish line in the distance, losing confidence as each second ticked by on the maddeningly loud stopwatch inside my white-knuckle-clenched fist.

    It took me a year to finally commit to an idea, one my boyfriend and I had explored years prior, this time for a feature film. This story seemed obviously meant for me to write, given the themes and parallels to my own life experience. And once again, it felt like magic.

    That idea swallowed the track whole, the finish line and stopwatch instantly engulfed, surrounding me in the vast open space of inspiration and possibility. And it filled every crevice of my available brain space. Whether I was flossing, folding laundry, of feeding my fish, I was filming it in my head.

    Characters, plot points, and symbols came to me with surprising regularity, and though the words didn’t always flow, when they did, it was just them and me. A universe of sparkling ideas I was floating through, weightless, oblivious to the world of stresses and struggles I’d left far below.

    It all sounds kind of corny and over-romanticized, I know, but that’s how it was. Life can sometimes feel unbearably serious, overwhelming, and urgent. Like it’s just one fire to put out after another. But when we’re creating, time seems to stand still. The flames freeze, far off in the distance, and all we can see is what we feel in our hearts about what we’re bringing to life.

    It took me over a year to write the film, with the help of a talented mentor who taught me things I didn’t know I needed to learn and showed me possibilities I didn’t know to create. But I did it. Draft after draft, I crafted something that felt meaning and beautiful and true.

    Then I re-wrote parts after getting a budget to make it more affordable to film.

    And then recently, once again, I stalled. To be fair, I’m currently spread a little thin, and pregnant, which, as you may know, can be physically and emotionally exhausting. But I’ve also procrastinated on the action steps to get this made because I’ve felt inadequate and scared.

    I’ve questioned whether this is a realistic goal, given that lots of people try to raise money for films and fail.

    I’ve doubted my aptitude for producing, reminding myself that I’ve worked in solitude for over a decade and possess the networking skills of a feral cat.

    I’ve even considered that maybe I’m actually an untalented hack who misled herself into believing she has something new to offer, when really she’s just a one-note blogger who should stop fantasizing and stay in her lane.

    All the while I’ve paralyzed myself with endless comparisons, juxtaposing prolific filmmakers’ portfolios against my embarrassingly vacant IMDB page.

    I’ve known for a while I needed to write a pitch for investors, and I’ve had many open windows when I could have begun working on it. But instead I’ve read celebrity gossip. And emailed my sister about inane life events that really don’t need to be rehashed. And scanned my growing stomach for stretch marks while eating small cups of cereal, as if five small cups are somehow better than one average-sized bowl.

    But this week, I did something different. This week I made one tiny choice that finally enabled me to get out of my own way: I decided to stop judging and start doing.

    I decided to stop judging my work—to suspend my disbelief about whether it’s good enough and act as though I know it is.

    I decided to stop judging myself—to stop berating myself for the skills I think I lack and simply focus on the task in front of me.

    And I decided to stop judging the process—to consider that maybe every slow, timid step happened exactly how and when it needed to, so there’s really no reason to paralyze myself in shame.

    Then I wrote one short section of the pitch. And another the next day. And another the day after that. I wrote what I could, as best I could, in small windows of time that felt manageable, until my energy and focus ran out.

    I’m not finished yet, and I have a ways to go, but I have a start. I’m sure I could improve what I have, but at least I have something. And in time, I’ll make it stronger.

    This isn’t an easily accessible path for perfectionists. We want to do it all, and perfectly, right now. We don’t want to take it slowly, or allow ourselves to be incompetent while we learn, through practice, how to excel.

    We want to speed down the highway of consistent progress toward our goals. We don’t see the speed bumps and detours as valuable because we take them all so personally—as if we could somehow find or create a more smoothly paved path if only we did better. If only we were better. But it’s all valuable.

    This is how we grow—all of us. By doing. By allowing ourselves to be where we are until we learn to get beyond it. By learning from every struggle and setback. No one can jump from zero to a hundred. No one can wake up an expert on something new. We simply have to go through the process.

    We can use all our energy questioning, doubting, and judging, or we can use it to move forward, one tiny, imperfect step at a time, knowing we’re getting closer to our goals every day.

    I’m not gonna lie—this isn’t easy for me to accept. I would rather do only what I know I can do fast and well. I would rather not risk being judged as inadequate. And if I could, I’d spend forever floating in that universe of sparkling ideas instead of hopping my way through an obstacle course of logistics, often feeling blindfolded. But I know this is what it takes to evolve and put myself out there.

    It’s messy and confusing and frustrating. It’s hard and scary and uncertain. There are no guarantees as to where it will all lead, or if the time invested will feel worth it in the end. But every great story involves risk and hardship. And every inspiring hero soldiers on, perhaps temporarily disheartened at times, but never down for the count.

    In the end, she might not get what she wants, but she usually gets what she needs. She grows into someone stronger and wiser. Someone better able to live, love, and experience life with more passion and less fear.

    So maybe I’m not the girl who cried film. Maybe I’m just a human being, like the rest of us, learning to get out of my own way and doing the best I can. My story might be slow and imperfect, but it’s still going. I’m still going. And I know I’ll go a lot further if I choose to stay focused on that.