Share Your Message with the World
I called my mom to catch up this weekend, and we enjoyed a quick, but powerful conversation that led me to want to be bolder with my writing. I heard her telling me she was proud of me. And I also heard the voice in my head.
Ordinarily, when someone offers me a compliment, I deflect. But when my mother says something complimentary, the voice screams: She’s your mom — she has to say these things! But this time, I fought back that instinct and I listened to her. She wasn’t blindly giving me a compliment, saying things that moms were supposed to say.
This time, the message I heard was one that suggested maybe, just maybe, I might be teaching my mother something.
I felt a subtle change: This changes everything. Could it be that I am inspiring her?
Not because my mom knows everything. She’s the most loving, humble, kind person anyone can ever meet.
No, this was about me being in a different place. A place I cannot recall ever being before. In all of the experiences I have ever had, I don’t recall being in a position to teach my mom anything. I am sure I have shown her how to do something, but that’s a different thing completely.
No, this was a conversation in which I might be guiding her to become a writer. Even though, she is the one who taught me to write. She is the one who gave me the the gift to express myself with words. She’s been writing a book for as long as I can remember. Her experiences in Cuba, her life as a daughter, wife, mother, divorcee, teacher, student. But on the phone this day, she was exploring the possibilities of blogging, writing regularly, sharing her story, following my example?!
When you think about the story you are writing (through the life you are living), and you realize that you are in a position to shift the roles, to trade places with the person who has been written into the script to be your teacher, it’s a moment you might not be ready for. But, the truth is, if you’re hiding from yourself, you might never be ready.
But, here’s the scary part. I think I might be ready. I might be ready to turn “Pro” and that means I can no longer choose to be silent. I can no longer believe I am not enough. Because, as a leader, that can’t be the position you take. You cannot be a leader, and at the same time, fearful of whether you are capable of leading. You just have to take what you have, your skills, your abilities, your faith.
And step into the role, and lead.
After our call, it occurred to me that I am following Steven Pressfield’s advice again, and I am “Turning Pro,” Turning Pro is my latest discovery, and the message is as powerful as The War of Art – except this time, I was prepared for Pressfield’s uncanny ability to use words to create emotion.
I was led to reading Turning Pro after reading Pressfield’s previous book, The War of Art — a book I wish everyone would read, but only when they are ready to take massive action. It’s a real kick in the ass, but you have to be ready for it.
When I read the book this summer, I was ready.
When the student is ready, the teacher appears.
Whenever you’re ready, the opportunity to lead will await you.
I shared with my mom that I believe it’s time for love, kindness and light to have a voice. And she turned that statement on me, in her subtle, kind and loving way — I heard my mother say, “You’re already doing that with your voice, Peanut. And it’s so needed. I am learning from you.”
“I don’t have any power to change anything,” was my immediate response.
But then, I reflected…
This is the voice of my amateur self. I believe this is the biggest enemy today. The enemy of our own self-doubt. The belief that what we have to say isn’t important, or won’t make a difference, is part of the process, but it is holding too many of us back.
Saying that we have no power to change anything, no matter whether it’s true or not — won’t get us anywhere.
We have to decide that we will Turn Pro. And, as Pressfield suggests, it will be messy; it won’t be perfect. It will not be easy. It will, however allow us to become the person we were meant to be.
The person we’ve been rejecting. Until. Until we refuse to remain silent. Until we begin to use our voices — and our light to make a stand for whatever we believe in.
The enemy is not fighting us. We are fighting ourselves. We are choosing to stay quiet. And, as long as we allow the enemy to win, we will give away our power. We will remain amateurs.