Be Bold. Take The Leap.

In a veritable masterpiece of cliche-ridden advice, I recently told a friend to be bold and take a leap.

This sounds good. It would sound better if I wasn’t a total fraud, one who’s abominably negligent in heeding her own advice.

Why take a leap when you can take a nap? Why be bold when you can watch Downton Abbey? Why build something when you can play with the cat?

Yes, sleeping and cat-taunting are important to a well-lived life, but not at the expense of your own growth.

Be Bold. Take The Leap. Swan Dive Off the Cliff. Go Ahead and Take The Cat.

Who knows, maybe the pool below will be nice and refreshing. The cat probably won’t think so, but a little water never killed a pet.

You probably know what leap you need to take. It’s something that’s bugged you for awhile or something you know will make you happier, as soon as you throw yourself over the first hurdle.

If you don’t know exactly where you need to be bold, look at what frightens you. The tender, scary bits usually point us toward where we most need to grow.

My bold leap involves those scary business-building things like hustling and self-promotion and, you know, actually telling people what I’m doing. Rather than writing in my little hobbit hole and never sharing it with anyone. Because the idea of hustling and connecting brings up massive resistance and anxiety. So, for the most part, nobody knows my writing exists.

I need to put my words in front of the people who would most benefit from it.

Yes, this is scary. No, I don’t particularly want to do it. But that’s just too damn bad. It’s time to do it anyway.

What scares you? Where can you be bold and take the leap? What are you going to do, even though it’s flashing its pointy goblin teeth in your direction?

BE BOLD. TAKE THE LEAP.

It’s harder to stay small than it is to expand. So now’s time to jump.

Ways To Get Out of Your Head and Live The Life You’re Actually In

At some point in any three block walk, I will cringe about something I did two weeks ago. Or fret about something that is never going to happen – or is going to happen so far in the future that we’ll finally have those rocket packs by the time it does.

Meaning, I’m constantly missing what’s right in front of me. Rarely being present in your own life has repercussions that are even less pleasant than slamming into a lamp post. It means you’re never truly devoting all your magnetic energy to one task and that tends to drastically reduce the awesome quotient of your life.

GOAL: MORE AWESOME ALWAYS. Therefore.

How To Get Out Of Your Head and Live Your Actual Life

1. Take a deep breath.
2. Look at the sky. It sounds cheesy, but it totally works. The sky is highly skilled at knocking things into perspective.
3. If you’re having a feeling, say what that feeling is. If you feel hurt, say “pain pain pain pain.” If someone pissed you off, say “mad mad mad mad.” This allows you acknowledge the emotion without getting too caught up in it.
4. Take one hour and practice being fully engrossed in everything you do for that hour. When the hour is up, you can stop. That shit’s exhausting.

Keen focus is a vastly underrated commodity. When you’re wholly focused on what you’re doing, all your dormant juju gets funneled straight into what really matters to you. Life tends to explode with good things when given that kind of attention.

Thirty Seconds of Peace

Having a brain full of hamsters is not the most pleasant way to wander through life. There are a lot of hamsters stomping through the inside of my head. Entire hamster crews devote themselves to specific worries – insufficient spinach intake, money, aging parents. I’m not certain humans can get rid of the brain hamsters entirely. But we can take the edge off by putting nice, soft mats under their tiny scrabbling claws. This helps us float above their noisy rodent judgment so we can find some peace.

My New Favorite Way To Soften The Blow of Hamster Claws

I count to thirty. Yep. That’s it. I sit down, focus my eyes on something inert and start counting. I match my breathing to the numbers and give myself a mental break for as long as it takes to get to thirty. Yes, the hamsters intrude and try to distract me with unpaid bills and uneaten salad and unwary comments. But within that span of thirty seconds, I’m allowed to let all those thoughts go. It’s not their turn.

Try it.

Next time you’re worried or fretting or upset, decide to give yourself a mental break. Thirty seconds of peace can shift your entire mood. Or at least give you some breathing room.