speak softly and jump.
those were my messages yesterday, provided to me by the benevolent and abundant universe.
I love them both.
a friend of mine is reading the book Quiet, by susan cain. he suggests that maybe I wrote it, that susan cain is my alter ego, my nom de plume. I could only wish.
the subtitle of this book is "the power of introverts in a world that can't stop talking." yes, believe it or not, I am an introvert, one who isn't afraid to share, but who is selective in the with whom, the when, the how.
I just watched susan cain's TED talk. if you've never listened to/watched a TED talk, you are missing a powerful form of communication, important and impactful "speeches" that are tight, targeted, terrific.
(one knows one has achieved something significant when one is asked to give a TED talk. this is who they look for:
THE INVENTOR ... sharing an innovation with world-changing potential
THE TEACHER ... sharing valuable knowledge in a memorable way to teenagers or adults
THE PRODIGY ... young talent ready to break out
THE ARTIST ... who can showcase their work in a compelling, new way
THE PERFORMER ... music, dance, comedy, drama ... or something entirely different
THE SAGE ... wisdom the world needs from those who have learned it the hard way
THE ENTHUSIAST ... with an infectious passion about a topic they can share
THE CHANGE AGENT ... helping shape the world's future with work that matters
THE STORYTELLER ... vivid, original, meaningful ... with a talent for connection
THE SPARK ... with a powerful idea worth spreading)
but back to speaking softly and jumping.
watch susan cain's TED talk. and woo-hoo for those of us who do best with space, solitude, nature, and a community to support it all. that's it for speaking softly.
now on to jumping.
my friend holly posted to her blog (a life size catholic blog) saturday about jumping.
of course it comes down to faith, trust in the universe, believing that you will be caught, held, collected, saved from potential disaster, death, ruin.
or as they say, if you're going to fail, fail big.
it's time again to jump.
I've been practicing little ones, here and there, and guess what? I've survived. I'm still here.
so onward, then, to longer jumps, higher jumps, scarier ones.
if not now, when?
what are we waiting for?
to feel stronger, to be more rested, to have a few more friends to back us up?
to have more gas in the car, more money in the bank, more toys in the garage?
to be more experienced, more knowledgeable, more practiced, a little bit older?
hell, we could wait forever.
so I'm jumping.
some of those jumps are big, some are little, some take little thought, some scare the bejeezes out of me. but I find I'm only scared for a minute. because once you take off, there's not a darn thing you can do about it but pray--have faith--trust--that your landing won't be too awful.
that it might even be gentle. or fun. or exhilarating.
or if nothing else, that you'll simply land in someplace a smidgen different from the place you took off.
which is often the only thing that really matters.
happy landings . . . and may we all discover a little new territory out there somewhere.