Sometime in January I saw on Marie Forleo’s website that her celebrated B-School, an online course which teaches entrepreneurs to build thriving businesses, was happening soon.  I also saw that scholarships were available, but that the details of how to apply would be forthcoming.  Then I went on my way and spent a few weeks working, playing with my kids, and cuddling the cat.  Yesterday when I took a look at my backlog of emails, I saw that the scholarship application for B-School was via 90 second video…and it was due in about an hour.  Oh what the heck, I thought, let me give this a try.

I sat down to meditate and center myself for just a minute (since that was about all the time I had).  As soon as I closed my eyes, the fire alarm started shrieking like crazy.  It turned out to be some kind of test (in more ways than one).  I thought to myself, “Oh, this is a sign, if there ever was one.  I am on fire with passion for my work!”  When the alarm settled down, I got to work planning what I’d say.  I adored what I planned to say, and you would have, too.  It was filled with heart and humor.  I shared my passion for travel and intercultural connections, along with many of the ways these experiences create a healthier world.  I shared exactly how people benefit from working with me.  I shared the ways that B-School could help At Home in the World thrive.  It was perfect.

Then my dear husband, who has mostly taken videos of kids jumping around and throwing blueberries into their mouths, sat me down and got to work.  Did I mention that I’ve never made a video?  Never, not once.  I’ve never acted either.  I was always the prop person for high school plays, and I excelled at that job; I loved finding all those obscure doctor bags for the vampires to carry around.  But I digress.  Yesterday I found that once the camera was turned on, I could say about three sentences very well.  Then my mind would go completely blank, and we’d have to start again.  My husband coaxed and encouraged me, “Stop trying to say all that stuff you wrote; just speak from your heart.”  I tried, I really did.  I imagined how I’d help a coaching client through this.  I knew I could do this well, if I only had more time….But between that ticking clock and my own awareness of how desperately I would have preferred to talk face-to-face with Marie, or read to her as if what I had written was my favorite poem, speaking to a camera without a face began to feel less like joy and more like prep for surgery.   After the third try, I knew it was time to submit the video or the deadline would have passed.  So I submitted it.

Whew, is it hard for me to watch that video.  Rather than seeing the result of my 20+plus years of experience in international education and youth development, my work as a successful writer, and the myriad skills I’ve gained and use every day as a coach, I see the child in me doing this new thing, and wanting so badly to get it right.  And now that I’ve told you, I’m sure you can see her, too. 

I had no idea that making a video for less than two minutes would bring up such aching vulnerability in me.  I did not know how different it would feel to speak to a camera (even with my handsome husband behind it) than it feels to speak to a person.  If I had had a few days to work on this, I know I could have created something that I was proud of in the end.  I could have developed useful skills like not saying, “um,” and looking at the viewer rather than up at the ceiling.  I could have learned some video editing, and cut and pasted the good bits together.  I could have put in jazzy music and all those other things that make videos fun to watch and listen to.  But this was the beginning, and I didn’t do any of that.

This is the beginning.  And I can’t wait to see the videos I am making in two years.  I think they will, as my grandma would have said, knock your socks off.  Because now I’m feeling motivated to learn skills I don’t have yet, and I understand more about why I want to learn them.  I see ways I want to grow as a business owner, and ways I want to grow as a person--all from watching something for 90 seconds.

Marie is pretty astute.  Maybe she will see my talent, skill, and the unique value my work is adding to the world, despite the wobbly video, and I’ll win the scholarship.  Whether or not that happens, I am proud of what I’ve done.  Wow, did I just write that? 
 
Indeed.  I am proud that I am learning to show up in the world as less than perfect.  I am proud that I am learning to do something, let it go, and start right in on doing the next thing.  For years, I just held on until the thing seemed as perfect as it could possibly be, or until it seemed too late to share it and so it just became another shadow inside of me. 

I am proud that I have made an offering, and from it, good things will grow.

We are all travelers. Whether or not we ever leave the place where we were born, each of us is constantly journeying toward living as our highest self, and expressing all the ways we are uniquely meant to shine. But when we travel physically, we shake things up in our lives, and we access our own wisdom in new ways. At its best, physical travel is like shaking a snow globe filled with glitter. It shifts everything in our world for a time, and when the glitter settles we are left feeling a greater sense of wonder, no matter what scene we are a part of. 

In my guest blogpost for Linda Neas' blog," learn how I work as a coach, and how you could benefit from working with me:  Words From the Heart