Is there something you need to shed?
Not like a sweater or a skin tag (gross-sorry), but a thought.
A thought like, “I’m not qualified.” Or “I’m too young/old.” Or “I’m too busy.”
Au contraire, mon frere! (That means “On the contrary, my brother.” In French.)
In fact, let’s use that phrase as an example of what I mean. I’d heard that phrase growing up a million times. I knew what it meant—sorta. But a quick Google search revealed that the word “frere” meant “brother” not “friend” like I assumed.
Well, check that out. I made an assumption and I was wrong! Just like the assumption you might be making about what you mean to the world.
If you, frere, feel a tug toward something like painting or snorkeling or learning French, there’s a reason for it. You have been visited, by what author Steven Pressfield calls, “The Muse” and you should, nay MUST! listen to The Muse and do what the hell it says. The Muse means to tell you one of the reasons you exist in the world.
You, frankly, have no business denying The Muse with excuses like “I’m not, I’m too, or I’m scared.” That is egomaniacal according to author, speaker, and physician, Lissa Rankin, who obviously listens to The Muse based on that variety pack of descriptors, rather than her bullshit human excuses when The Muse comes a-callin’.
And while you might not have considered your denial of The Muse self-centered, think of it like this, if the call of The Muse is heralding one of your purposes for being on this planet, it is your responsibility to paint, snorkel or learn French. Think of The Muse as your cosmic employer. As an employee, you must do the job or risk your employer moving on to someone who will. (Some think that’s what the muse does.) Noooooo!
When I first started working in advertising, I did it without a degree or a “book”, (the only way in at the time.) And I felt like such a fraud that when it came time to make my business cards, I asked my boss what my title should be. He said, with a pained expression, “Copywriter? What else would it be?” And I said, “Well, I don’t feel like I’ve earned that yet.” And he said, “Jesus, Lynda, lose your juniority!” So I had a quick anxiety attack, shed my egomaniacal self-doubt, and accepted the call of The Muse.
I’ve had to deny my own BS many times since then, and while it’s often scary, it’s always worth it. Promise. But don’t listen to me, listen to The Muse.
M-k, bye.
(For more on this topic, check out episode 90, Lose Your Juniority, on the Fix Your Chit podcast.)
Peace
Want these communiques to come directly to your inbox? Sign up here.
© LCRI
