So, last week I posted a story about being at a networking event and rediscovering (duh!) the mighty connective power of our personal stories. Did you catch it?
Well, it caused quite a stir. Lots of comments and excitement, from folks both in business and not.
I LOVE when that happens, when what I’m experiencing turns out to be a reflection of what so many others are experiencing. I mean, really, that’s why I write (share/speak/perform). So we can all see ourselves and each other more clearly. So we can connect.
Clearly, I’m not the only one to whom that appeals. Many of you responded with varying versions of, “Yes, yes, I want that!” And I was thrilled to carry on with my plans to help you have it.
Then on Friday (the day after I posted), I got a call from a friend — my best friend for almost 20 years, from whom I’ve been somewhat estranged — telling me she had just entered hospice.
Complicated conversation; complicated relationship; complicated connection. Healing, jarring, heartbreaking, disorienting… And yes, connective, though not on account of our stories, just from speaking our heart’s truth like we might not ever be able to again.
Then the next day, I went to a celebration of life for another friend in hospice. An exquisite gathering of love and honoring, but also so, so painful. I don’t have a word for that particular mix but Glennon Doyle Melton does: brutiful. It was definitely brutiful.
By Sunday, I felt more liquid than solid, which was a good thing. I wanted, more than anything, to just be present with it all, let it move in, around, and through me, which is easier to do when you, yourself, are fluid.
It was Family Day, the one day of the week when Dean, Aidan, and I are together from eyes open to eyes closed. And that was a good thing, too. Because there is nothing that fills me and feeds me like time with this sweet family of mine. We ordered food from one of our favorite restaurants, then drove to one of the many wilderness areas in the middle of LA, a place I used to hike all the time in the ten years prior to being paralyzed. And there we ate and walked and looked at ducks and turtles and fish, and played and learned at a nature center, and revisited the little amphitheater where Aidan’s mama did a play with his mama and papa’s theater company.
And coming into Monday, I just wanted to serve. To do what I do. That’s where my ground is, where all the too-big parts of life find their place and I’m able to dance with the complexity, to rejoice in the big, beautiful, brutiful experience of being alive, and connect… with you.
Which brings me back to last week’s post and, particularly, to you who are in business.
The enthusiasm with which many of you received my mention of a “special something” to help you harness the power of your story made me SOOOOOO happy.
Can I tell you why?
It’s not because we might work together or I might make some money (though both of those are super fun). It’s because there is nothing more thrilling than providing value.
I really, REALLY want you to shine. I want you to do more of what you do, and it sounds like you want that, too. So, yea! Super happy.
Regarding providing value…
I want this program to be actually special, not special just because I say or think so. I want it to meet you where you are and deliver you where you want to be. I want you to feel excited (if a bit nervous). And, most of all, I want you to feel relieved. I want you to read about it and feel your body relax, knowing that you’re getting just what you need, in a package that feels delicious, fun, and easy.
So, I’m wondering… Will you help me give you that?
If you read last week’s post (or if your interest is piqued now) and you thought, “Oooo, I’m curious about that,” I wonder if you’d fill out a short survey for me. I want to know more about what you’re hoping for, what would really support you in your business. It won’t take long (unless you’re SUPER wordy like me 😉 ).
That way, I can be empowered to really address what’s most meaningful to you, and tailor the program as much as possible to those most interested.
What do you say?
And just for sharing your thoughts with me, I’m going to send you a short, never before published little story of mine, just for fun. Because you should always feel how much I appreciate you.
Breathing back into these past few days, I feel again a bit disoriented. I’m out of practice making consistent room for SO MUCH… life. But when the threads get worn and I start to feel cut loose, at least I know what to do:
Start telling stories.