Do It. You're Ready Enough.

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There are twelve lies of the Impostor Complex. Lie number seven - “you’re not ready yet” - shows up right after you’ve decided to do it.

You can no longer unsee all the changes around you that need to be made. You have things to say, words to write, stages to climb, and systems to take down and rebuild.

"YES," you say. "I will be the one."

Then, immediately, the Impostor Complex sidles up to you, real cozy-like, and says:

"Listen, kid (yeah, it’s patronizing as hell, that one) -

one day you’ll be ready. But that day isn’t today.

Maybe you’ll be ready when you get that NEXT degree. Or put ANOTHER ten years under your belt. Or make that discovery. Or win the award. Or get that client. Or get the nod from HER. Or lose the pounds. 

So sit back, cool your heels, and keep working it."

And so, you prepare and you train and you polish and you sharpen the pencil.

Because you have high standards of excellence and mastery. (That’s good. And the number one reason why you experience the Impostor Complex.)

But then it shows back up once again, whispering:

"The pencil isn’t sharp enough.

The pitch doesn’t gleam with startling shine.

Your thighs - they need to be more toned, taut, and tanned.

You’re not smart enough.

Wise enough.

Brave enough.

Charismatic enough.

Gorgeous enough.

Spiritual enough.

Wealthy enough."

(And let’s not even get started on TOO smart, TOO wise, TOO gorgeous, TOO wealthy. Not today.)

Now, what your thighs and wealth have to do with how prepared you are to ask set up the appointment with the CEO or send your manuscript off to the publisher is something well beyond me, but this much I DO know, with every fibre of my being:

Do it. You’re ready enough.

The manuscript is close enough to done.

The pencil is sharp enough to write the words that can change everything.

Your voice is strong enough to say what needs to be said. (Even when it trembles. ESPECIALLY when it trembles.)

Two things:

As you sit down to make the call or write the book or step up to the mic to deliver the talk that will change EVERYTHING, think about how everything you have ever made, delivered, sold, created, drafted, crafted, survived, healed, and done is coming together. Right here and now. For this very purpose. For this very moment.


No one was ever fully ready. For anything. The pencil tip can always be sharper.

The space in between the systemic changes you want to see and the brave new world is your decision on whether you are fully ready or not.

Do it. You’re ready enough.

Join me live on Facebook this Thursday at 1:30 pm EST to talk about just this. see you there.




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Getting Right With My Heart

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After my dad died, I made some promises to myself.

I’m excellent at keeping the promises I make with others but don’t have the best track record with keeping promises to myself.

So, it's no surprise that “keeping the promises I make with myself” moved to the top of my promise list.

The second promise I made was to get into right relationship with my heart and begin treating my heart with the same reverence and care that I give to others.


And, in truth, it’s a curious time to explore it, what with grief being seventeen thousand kinds of messy.

It’s hard to know which way’s up and which way’s down. And it’s hard to know if I can trust my emotions. Hard to know if I can trust my heart.

But that... right there - that’s the lie I’ve been telling myself:

That I can’t trust my heart.

It’s my HEART that should be mistrustful of ME.

I’ve ignored and shelved and bartered and negotiated and bypassed and done everything BUT listen to my heart in more ways than I care to admit over the past couple of years.

So, to get us back on the same page - what this has meant (so far in any case), is that I need to listen to my heart when it summons the courage to ask me for something. And offer it what it desires freely and enthusiastically and reverentially. Nomaddawhat.

Also revolutionary.

It’s Valentine’s Day and my heart asked me to write this to you. So I did.

Take some time and space to love into your own heart today, will you?

Listen to it. And honour it above all else.

You’ve only got this one.

Treat it like the source of all things sacred that it is.

Because it is.


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Ready or Not: Expansion, eclipses, and throwing your limitations into the volcano of your desires.

"'Come to the edge,' he said.
They said, 'We are afraid.'
'Come to the edge,' he said.
They came.
He pushed them.

And they flew."

- Apollinaire

My father loved to tell the story of how he learned to swim.


Long ago in Karlsruhe, Germany, my dad was a 6-year old tagging along with his big brother on a date. They had ridden their bikes to the Rhine River and my uncle was big-talking to his sweetheart about his swimming prowess. (Neither my father nor my uncle knew how to swim at this point, though my father really wanted to learn).

My dad called him out on it, to which my embarrassed uncle responded with brute big brother energy. He ripped the tire off of his bike, wound it around my father a couple of times, blew the air back into it with his hand pump, and chucked him into the river.

(Sidebar: I ought to be horrified by this, but I’ve known this story my whole life and can only ever see it through the animated filter of Bugs Bunny.)

He floated, of course. Bobbing alongside my uncle and his nonplussed girlfriend. And pretty soon his arms and legs caught on.

Ready or not, he learned to swim that day.

One event that had the same effect on me was watching a full lunar eclipse. I felt like I was walking along and someone hurled me into frigid waters.

I bobbed along in shocked disorientation for a while, then my arms and legs caught on and I began to swim.

Maybe you feel it too. Have any world-changing epiphanies doused your reality? Do you feel the rug coming out from under you? Are you rethinking EVERYTHING you’re doing in a current venture? Are your rethinking EVERYTHING period?

Yes, yes. You’re in excellent company. And now that the dust has settled (for now), you may be grappling with what's next. Like, what to actually DO about it.

I have seen what is next for me in my business. And it is huge and bright. And try as I might, I cannot unsee it.

(And why might I try to unsee it? Because the brilliance is blinding. Same reason we always try to dim the light.)

But it’s here. Because although I feel like I got chucked into the Rhine unexpectedly, I’ve been yearning for this expansion - dreaming of it, praying for it, conjuring it.

And, ready or not, it’s here. And it’s hungry.

So this past week I’ve been feeding it a steady diet of my limitations. For every “I can’t” and “I don’t know how” that has shown up (and there have been plenty), I’ve been hurling them into the gaping mouth of the volcano of my desires. (The ensuing lava flares and fire fountain I envision are Bugs Bunny calibre.) In with the limitations go old habits, beliefs, and stories.

It’s not always this easy. Except when it is.

And then I breathe into the space that just created.

If you’re on the precipice of your desires, whether you’ve thoughtfully and carefully navigated your way there, or you’ve been thrust into them by cosmic intervention, trust that your legs and arms will carry you. You will learn to swim. But to actualize your expansion, you will need to lighten your load.

Ready or not, there are many more eclipses on the horizon.



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For the Moment That Has You Question Your Bravery

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You were brave. You remember, don’t you?

No? Okay. Here it is. You were brave:

when you stayed.

when you left.

when you said, "No, but let’s try this."

when you said, "No, never."

when you said, "Yes, thank you. More, please."

when your wave to the cool kids wasn’t returned (and still, you kept your head high).

when you kissed the ground (even though you wanted to shake your fist at the sky).

when you stood up.

when you stood down.

when you kept writing, speaking, teaching, singing, preaching, going.

(even though...)

when you danced with the shadow (but didn’t go to second base).

when you were so worn out, but made it count anyway.

when you wore your heart on your sleeve (it SO brings out your eyes).

when you believed.

when you trusted.

when you knew that you knew.

when you raised your hand.

when you took the high road (and not just for the panoramic views).

when you didn't feel so hot in the bathing suit, but swam in the grace around you just the same.

when you made your dreams your mission.

when you shelved your dreams for someone else’s (though you’ll never do THAT again).

when you tossed your limitations into the volcano of your desires.

when you committed to your life.

when you kept your promise to others,

when you kept your promise to yourself.

when you kept your promise to your soul.

when you trusted how it felt (not how it looked).

when you kept showingupshowingupshowingup (even though the duvet beckoned).

when you forgave (REALLY forgave),

when you decided to stop deferring to others.

when you decided that enough was enough and that you were enough (oh, that was a good one).

when you risked it.

when you risked telling someone they matter.

when you decided it wasn’t too latebut also that it wasn't too soon to just.get.going.

when you chose collaboration over competition,

discernment over decisiveness,

generosity over guarantees,

curiosity over certitude.

when you tapped yourself in.

when you switched gears (even though everyone was watching).

when you chose to love.

when you chose joy.

and, when you chose you.

So, you see? you keep showing it. You keep showing us.

This Thursday, February 1 at 2pm EST,
I will be live on Facebook talking all things bravery. I hope you'll join me.

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Give it Time

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When we decide we want to do something BIG - build a business, write a book, launch a program, make the move - we deliberate and deliberate and then we deliberate some more. And then one day, we decide. After the due diligence, the dotting of the i’s and the crossing of the t’s (and the re-dotting and re-crossing), after the advice, the hand-wringing, we finally wind up here:

Work finally begins when the fear of doing nothing exceeds the fear of doing it badly. - Alain de Botton

And so we begin.

But then our relationship with time does this crazy back flip. We imagine that all of those hours of chronic fretting and crossing and dotting and asking and worrying and imagining somehow counted as putting in the time for the work because we expect instant results.

The tiger in our tanks is hungry and wants to be fed NOW. Big, meaty morsels of success.

One catch: the work wasn’t in the fretting and obsessing and stressing. The work is in doing the work.

Which - bear with me - just takes time.

Yes. It just takes time.

It takes time to find your voice. It takes time to build your authority. It takes time to hone your mastery. It takes time. It just takes time.

Instead of looking at time as the burly doorman that stands between you and your success, consider this:

Time is a gift you offer your loves, your friends, your family, your community.

Offer it generously to your business, book, program, or move. Lay it reverently on the altar of your desires.

How much time?

That’s a fine question.

Is it 10,000 hours spent on the road to mastery? Maybe. Is it the magical and mythical 5 years you’ve been prescribed to allow your business to "make it (whatever that may mean to you)?" Possibly.

It depends on your willingness to see it through.

Will it be worth it? Another fine question.

My vote is YES.

That the THERE you envision is everything you’ve ever hoped for. And more.

That the flaccid results and crickets that can show up early in the process are simply here to help you hone in, discern, and finesse.

Doing the work is unsexy business. It requires patience, perseverance, and focus.

It requires tenacity.

Give it time to mature, to expand, to grow, to reach, to soar.

The steady results you seek require your steadiness.

Now’s not the time to rock the boat. Now’s the time to give it time.


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