I Did it Again
Disclaimer: I am trying not to be too consumed by perfection, so if you see inconsistencies in contractions, a superfluous amount of em dashes, and illogical flow, cut me some slack.
Yes. I did it again. And, if you are writing on this platform, or Facebook, or Instagram, then you’ve probably done it, too. I mean. As a child, I dreamed of a life as a writer, a creative, a perpetual student. I would place roses most artfully by the fireplace and use my disposable camera to snap a picture. I drew picture books. I pretended to be a fashion designer and had a flexi-binder full of sketches of copycat Delia’s designs. I made picture books. I wrote ‘NSync fan fiction in high school. And I journaled a lot. A lot, a lot. And I’m not entirely sure when I thought I needed to pick a profession that was more “real” than an artist, but I did. So, maybe it’s not surprising that it took me so long to go back to school and finish my B.A. I was still trying to figure out what I wanted to do.
That was a long way of getting to this point: I have avoided writing because I keep looking for the most perfect way to write, even though I said—to both myself and to you on my about page—that the whole point of this space was just a conversation, a place for me to make what I need. What I need now is just a space to think and explore and dream and problem-solve.
I don’t know if you’ve seen this yourself or if it’s just because the algorithms are showing this to me, but I keep seeing a lot of posts about how to grow your audience on Substack. And, because I am just as practical as I am creative, I started to become obsessed with this whole idea of The Poetry of Taste becoming a venue for…something. Something other than what I intended it to be.
I’ve done it again. I’ve forgotten the “why” of what I am doing. Why I want to do what I dream of doing. Why I know that this is, as of now, the next right thing to get me to where I want to be.
. . .
Over the past few weeks, I’ve been deep in audiobooks; it’s how I pass the time at work in the office under the fluorescent lights. Last week, it was Grit by Angela Duckworth. I’m not sure how, being a coach and all, I hadn’t yet listened to this book (or read it for that matter because it’s literally sitting on the bookshelf across from my bed), but I hadn’t, and it’s a shame that it took me so long. But anyway, there’s a part of the book where she talks about current Las Vegas Raiders coach Pete Carroll and his concept of having a “life philosophy.” It’s just another two-word phrase of Simon Sinek’s “why.”
You need a north star, a guiding light, a reason for being. And I realized that for the last ten years or so, my“why,” my “life philosophy,” hasn’t really changed. Every virtual book club, every virtual writing group, every retreat was developed because I wanted to create spaces where women could (re)connect with their most authentic selves to live a more truth-filled, beautiful life. I’ve come to realize that I do the same thing as a basketball coach. I love it because I know that through coaching this sport, I’m able to pass along some wisdom that I believe will benefit these athletes much later in life. I have a hand in shaping the next generation of women in leadership, and aren’t the best leaders the ones who are honest and have the guts to tell the truth and hold people accountable?
Which leads me back to the title of this first entry. (I don’t want to call it a post because a post sounds too technical, too mechanical, too functional. This is an entry, a journal, a dialogue.) If I’m going to be a leader of others, then I must be a leader of myself. If I am going to hold others accountable, then I must hold myself accountable. So, I can’t let myself do this again. I can’t let myself be so consumed with the perfection of it all that I lose track of my why. In fact, it’s through the lens of my why, my life philosophy, that all decisions should be made. Because that is ultimately what will make me most fulfilled, most happy.
. . .
Well. If you’ve made it this far, thank you. Congratulations? No. It’s definitely “thank you.”
With infinite gratitude,