Who Are You Going to Believe?

“Whatever course you decide upon, there is always someone to tell you that you are wrong.  There are always difficulties arising which tempt you to believe that your critics are right.  To map out a course of action and follow it to an end requires courage.”

~Ralph Waldo Emerson

I’ve got some great ideas, of this I’m sure.  I’m a strong, confident woman with a keen intuitive sense of what is needed in various situations.  I totally trust my gut — I don’t think it’s ever steered me wrong.  And yet, I find myself questioning what I know from time to time.  It’s so bizarre.  And then, when I read the above quote by Emerson I realized that this sort of questioning probably happens more often than I care to admit, and that I’ve absolutely had to be courageous to do some of the things I’ve chosen to do — like start my own company.

This whole idea — the idea that following the path that you carve out for yourself will be met with resistance and therefore requires courage –  feels novel somehow.  And wrong.  I guess what feels wrong specifically is the idea that we question each other and our choices.  What’s funny, as I sit with this, is that I think we only question our own choices when someone else questions them first.

So now, the question that’s coming up for me is this:  is the self-doubt a bad thing?  The introspection that has you evaluate from time to time?  My intuitive answer is “nope.”  I don’t think the introspection is wrong — until and unless it takes you right off your path.  I think there’s a way that you’ve got to hold both — the possibility that you’re wrong along with the belief that you’re right.  And then there’s the third thing to hold, which is the willingness to change or modify your plans if in fact you are wrong in some way. Weird.

I guess the bottom-line realization for me this morning is this:  I am willing to entertain the doubts, whether mine or someone else’s for a brief time.  After that, however, unless something has radically changed, I’m going to believe and trust my intuition and follow the path that I believe to be right for me.  This is an ability I’ve developed, the ability to know what needs to be done.  It may not look or feel right to you; it may not be what you would choose; and that’s okay.  I’ll trust that you know your path, and I know mine and all will be good.

An Anchor? Or a Dead Weight?

Today’s blog entry feels like it’s going to be a metaphor-filled one.  Not a bad thing — I just can’t let go of the nautical visual.

When it comes to living life on your terms, my personal perspective is that having an anchoring belief can serve you really well.  After all, the business of living life really can feel like being on a storm-tossed sea at times.  And knowing that you’ve got a solid anchor keeping you safe — keeping you from drifting too far out — can be reassuring to say the least.  That being said, I’m getting curious about the difference between an anchor and a dead weight.  Both are heavy, both will keep you from drifting, both will prevent you from venturing too far.  The former, however, feels like it serves in some way; the latter, feels like it holds you back, right?  So this has me asking:  are your anchoring thoughts really anchoring?  Or are they holding you back, stopping you from moving forward?

I guess what I’m realizing is that an anchor can actually be both.  Given it’s weight, an anchor can absolutely hold you back, keep you from moving to calmer seas as it were.  In light of this, the important thing isn’t the anchor so much (at least not in this moment); the important thing is being certain that the sea you’re anchored in is actually the sea that you want to be in.  If it’s not — if you’re floating along in a sea of negativity and lack — then it may be time to cut your ties with the anchor that has you stuck.  In the context of life, such an anchor is most likely a limiting belief, a paralyzing thought.  Letting go of this thought or belief is what will allow you to move to another sea altogether — a calmer, bluer, clearer sea.  And once you’ve found a new sea, you can anchor yourself with a new thought.

So I guess this leaves me asking the following questions, both of you and of myself:  what sea are you anchored in?  How’s that working for you?  And if it’s not working the way you want, how willing are  you to release the anchor-turned-dead-weight and find a new anchor?  What I know for sure is that sometimes, you’ve got to let go of  an old anchor before you can sail a new sea.

The Wisdom of Children

Children.  Whether you have any of your own or not, you just gotta love ‘em.  Not that I’m trying to create a rule here or anything, I’m just aware that when I scan my everyday experiences with my own children, there are some shining examples of wisdom and insight that just seem to be missing in the “adult world”.  Take this morning for example.

My children and I were sitting down to breakfast, my husband having left for an early-morning meeting.  The inevitable question quickly arose:  “So mom, how’d you and dad do at baseball last night?  Did you guys win?”  And sadly, my answer was as it generally tends to be:  “Not too well I’m afraid; we had a lot of fun.  And we lost.”  I began to share some of the challenges we had experienced during the game:  not quite enough players (we need a minimum of 4 women to play, and due to a variety of circumstances, we were short until the  very last minute); pulled quad muscles; questionable umpiring; an opposing team that was les-than-sportsmanlike.  And believe me, even as I shared all of this, I was hyper-conscious of being factual and not making excuses — simply explaining

As I was sharing my perspective, my 9-year old son shared this insight:  “You know Mom, I really do think you guys need a better team name.  Yours sends the wrong message and other teams figure you’re not really all that good.”  I know; you’re wondering what the team name is.  Well before I tell you, let me be clear that my teammates and I entered this rec league purely as a way to get together once a week and have some fun.  The incentive was more social and fun, than competitive.  Which is a good thing — because we’re really not the most talented bunch out there (yet).  Our first year, our team name was Field of Dreams.  For the last two years, however, in the spirit of fun and comraderie, our name has been “Scared Hitless”.  Seemed appropriate given our record — and again, we’re all about the fun.  (I know, who am I trying to convince??)  At any rate, my son continues with the following:  “I mean, “Scared Hitless” — what are you trying to say?  You guys aren’t “scared” and you’re not “hitless”, but your name tells them you are.  The other team names send a better message, I think.  I mean, I don’t know what the heck “Backyard Boozers” means (picture my adult grin as he says this), but the “Cougars” — there’s a good name.  “Cougars” are fast, and fierce.  You guys need a name like that.  I think it’d make a difference.”

At this point I shared a bit about how I saw his point.  There’s certainly great insight there.  And I also shared my firm belief that ultimately it is what WE think that matters.  Even as I said it and believe it, however, I find myself holding the question — what do we believe?  As a team, I mean?  I know we’re all about fun — but surely there’s another name out there that’s equally fun and maybe less depracating?  Something for me to ponder.  While it may be too late to change our name for this year, it might be worth considering for next year.  And in the meantime, it’s a great question to dance with: can your belief about who you are outweigh the “name” that you carry?  In this moment, I believe that it can — so long as your belief is strong.  That, I believe, is the ticket.  And while I play with this question, I’ll see what other insights my children have.  They seem to be on to some good stuff.