Riding Jacket Photo by Maria Brubeck

Riding Jacket Photo by Maria Brubeck

A couple of updates: 1) I got a surprise in the works, so you will notice that my posts will be shorter in the next few weeks while I prepare. 2) I am going to do a series of posts leading up to the surprise. I realize I am working on a complex project with this made to measure thing. Some of you have followed the whole thing and some have just joined me on this crazy journey. So I am going to break it down to the essential pieces.
 
As for this week’s letter: Last week I had my usual wave of challenges. By Thursday, I was worn out. The last straw was getting a bill for three times what I had been quoted for shipping and needing to figure out how to weigh a desk and wade through the phone calls to get it sorted out. The usual mundane life crap that can wear you out, especially when you go down the unchartered path.
 
And when you have been going hard and are tired, in come the voices, “you see, what you are doing is crazy.” “Wishful thinking.” “You’re not good enough, smart enough… to pull this off.” “This is impossible, untenable, go get a real job.” Ok, you get the point. And I was reading one of my inspirational, spiritual books and it talked about the wrestling with the part of you that says you can’t, that you are too scared, that life can’t be that good for a dream like this to come true, that you don’t deserve it. And I saw very clearly a wrestling match. I thought I’d share this image in case it helps you through the little bits of dog shit on your way to something great.
 
Set the stage: it is 3pm during a long workday. Your brain is worn out. You open that email that has the invoice with three times the shipping amount you were quoted (insert any number of time consuming mind-numbing debacles). The over-tanned, stout, man in a t-shirt walks into the ring and rings the bell, “Let’s get ready to rumble!” he bellows. Facing you, on the other side of the ring is your shadow figure, your Eeyore, shoulders slumped, gaze to the ground, preoccupied, chewing on some negative thought. And you stand in the other corner, tired, stressed, but begrudgingly putting up your fists. And your opponent wines, “This always happens! Why me? I must be on the wrong track.” “Why couldn’t I have chosen an easier path?”
 
Loosing is curling up in a ball, avoiding the task by doing all sorts of seemingly productive things, wondering over to the self-help library, cutting out early to eat and drink a bunch of crap and fall onto the couch in a food coma.
 
So what does winning look like? Facing it. Dealing with it. Take the steps. Punch back. “I was born to do this,” “I will win,” “I am strong and capable enough.” A victory is the sum total of all these battles with little bits of dog shit. Remember the larger battlefield and how sweet that victory will be.

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