Every time the catalog from Femail Creations arrives, I am always drawn toward one particular plaque that speaks to me.
Now me? I'd probably want to add a magic wand to the mix. Kind of a Fairy Godmother with super powers.
The problem, I'm starting to slowly realize, is that I need more than a cape, tiara and magic wand. On top of that, I'm tired and I'm not sure I want to save the world anymore.
While I think I'm starting to understand I'm not Superwoman, I'm not entirely sure I'm ready to admit it yet. To the world, but more importantly — to me.
I grew up in the '60s and '70s — to the Helen Reddy anthem "I am woman, hear me roar, in numbers to big to ignore..." or the classic "I can bring home the bacon, fry it up in a pan, and never make you forget you're a man — cause I'm a woman." Gloria Steinem, Helen Gurley Brown, bra burning ... the fantasy that women could do anything and everything they wanted. WE COULD HAVE IT ALL!
But I'm starting to ask the question "do I want to have it all?" and "why do I need to have it all?" In the end, what did having it all do for me? Did it improve my quality of life? Did I accomplish more? Did I enjoy myself along the way? Did it let me focus on the things that are important?
For the most part, the answer is no.
Trying to do it all has
...worn me out
...unfocused my attention
....and caused me angst as I work out the logistics of making it look easy.
If I'm too tired because I've been running around, like a chicken with its head cut off, trying to prove I'm superwoman and make it look like a walk in the park ... well then, I'm not enjoying the things I really want to, am I? And to be honest. Being superwoman isn't one of them.
So, here's my declaration: I don't want it all — I have enough. I don't need a tiara, cape and magic want — I need a cup of tea, a good book and a porch swing.
If you'll excuse me, the sun is shining, there's a gentle breeze, and the tea is brewed ...
Normal?
For me it seems.
So, this is the first step of doing something about an insight I recently had. The insight? I have read and learned a great deal, and I have thought about what I've learned and how it could be applied.
And I have applied it — in my head.
Which reminds me of my dad's favorite photography saying "I've taken hundreds of great pictures, too bad there wasn't any film in the camera."
I've come up with great business ideas, written wonderful blog posts, taken stunning photographs and created gorgeous knitwear — in my head.
Now for some reason, lately, this lesson has come back to me over and over in the last month.
In October I took a photography course on how to take photos of my fiber from Franklin Habit. Remember him? This time I was in my element sitting with my new DSLR, my point and shoot and my phone. I learned how I could use each effectively and while I thought I knew about photography from my past, this helped me see the differences between shooting with film and digitally. I finally understood all the cool things that can now be done. But the one thing that Franklin kept emphasizing was "if you don't practice what you've learned, get the camera out and start experimenting, your photos aren't going to get any better." (I put quotes there, but it's a bit paraphrased.) I left class determined that my camera would go with me everywhere. I would experiment with lighting and backgrounds. I would examine previous photos and see what I could have improved. I've had the insight...
There's been no action.
Last week I participated in a wonderful, online Great Work MBA program that was pulled together by Michael Bungay Stanier of Box of Crayons. (If you haven't encountered Michael's work yet, take a look. You'll be glad you did.) The program was brilliant. The people he interviewed were brilliant. I took page after page of notes that were brilliant .
At the end of each interview, Michael would ask us to take a moment to reflect on what two key things we wanted to remember from the interview, and then what one action were we going to take. Five days of interviews + five speakers a day (should) = twenty-five actions. Right? For the past week I've thought a great deal about the brilliant things I learned.
There's been no action.
At the end of the week, I was sharing with a friend an idea I had. It was a venture that would move me into something that was more aligned with who I am and what I'm good at. I was excited as I told her about it and the steps I'd been thinking about to move in that direction. Something that both the photography class and the Great Work MBA made me believe was attainable. She told me to hurry and write it down...
There's been no action.
Last night was the final nudge. At knitting I was complaining about a hat I knit and knew I could do better. Knew that it didn't meet my standards. That every time Mike put it on, I'd cringe. Finally one of my fiber friends said (again, paraphrasing) "Rip it out already."
And this time, there has been action.
So this is my public declaration that it's time to take action on some of those other things. My photography, my writing, and my great ideas (well, to me anyway — they're brilliant!) To quit complaining and just "Rip it out already." Thank you Franklin, Michael and Malee.
Blog post acknowledging insight written? Check! Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go cast on stitches for a new hat, write a business plan and pull out the camera ... before I think about it too long.
