Dudes. I can't tell you how many emails I've received in the last two days with the subject line 'What's Next.' Clearly, I've hit on something. I like it.
One of the emails included a link to the best job in the world. $150 grand to sit on the beach in Australia and write about it. Sounds dreamy, yes? Although, really, what if you got bored? "Drank another six mai tais today. The lime is giving me mouth sores. More bikini-clad women walked by. Sigh. I'm actually tired of cleavage. Oh well, I guess I'll take a nap." Gawd. Lamest job in the world more like it.
(I don't need to tell you I'm joking, right? We're past that.)
I've been reflecting on the What's Next phenomenon and I realized something. It wasn't ME asking MYSELF what's next. It was other people doing the asking. Maybe someone asking me put me in a state of imagination, openness and possibility. Maybe they asked the question I should have been asking myself. Maybe I forgot that my life is a big, multimedia creative project and I am the artist.
Have you ever noticed that other people have grander images of your life than you have for your own? People will tell you, 'Oh, you're gonna be famous.' Or, 'Your business will be super-successful, don't worry.' And while they say these nice things, you have that little voice that says, 'Don't be so sure about that.'
I know I do it. And people do it to me. If my friends get their way, I'm going to be rich, famous, a New York Times best-seller and on Oprah. Watch for it.
Mid-last week, Boyfriend's mom gave me this cute, little sparkly silver ornament in the shape of the Eiffel Tower. On the back she had written: Paris Or Bust! I hung it in my car and as I looked at it, I got this weird feeling in my stomach. It was like, 'Wait a minute. This is possible. It's all possible.' Like I'd forgotten and the ornament reminded me.
It took me ten years to get the balls to go to Paris. I put this big dream on a pedestal and put off going so many times, eventually I forgot it was an actual, tangible option. It became a mythical thing, a metaphor, a unicorn.
But once I'd decided to go – with the help of a friend who showed me it was possible – it was a snowball. Everything came together so perfectly and smoothly, it was like the universe had it planned all along. And now, it's the same thing.
There's something about believing that it's possible – whatever that delicious, dreamy thing is for you. And maybe you don't know it until someone asks you what's next or reminds you that other people make a living directing movies, so why not you. And then you feel that thing in your belly. That YES feeling in your guts that lets you know you're on the right track.
Then maybe you ask it again: what's next? And then an answer comes in some way – some door opens, an email, a phone call, an idea – and then you say yes to that thing, too. And that's maybe how you move through life: inchworming between the What's Nexts and the Yeses. What's next? Yes. What's next? Yes. Like that. All the way to Paris.
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2 comments:
Sing it, sister! And to be honest, I have to admit: I am amazed that you are not famous already. It's right on your heels. It just hasn't caught up to you yet. :)
I found myself in an honest moment the other night asking “What’s Next”. The moment did not come out of making plans or staring down a barrel or the lack of something or having to much nothing or coming out of the maelstrom into normalcy or...
It was a stolen selfish moment where I sat. I was supposed to be doing something. I wasn’t doing it. I was just navel gazing. Mental scales calculating. I was honestly disappointed and really wondered if This is how I wanted Tuesday nights to look, forever.
Under my breath, “what’s next?” slipped out. I didn’t connect that with the grand question and Yeses that you wrote about on Day 136. I didn’t think about anything after saying it. I just sat in the act of asking the question until I realized I was slouching pretty bad and woke myself out of that low dark place. I then rubbed my face with my hands.
The next day, people had questions, and I had a Yes for almost every one. Each time I did it I felt myself quietly cursing/blessing you.
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