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When I was little I did fashion shows, hair, and painted and pampered the hands and feet of anyone who’d let me; I chain read books, sang loud into hairbrushes and broomsticks for an imaginary audience of many; I wrote my life out in crinkled letters to pen pals a world away; I told stories and acted dramatic scenes in the neighbors’ yard; I rode in wheelbarrows, played bingo with old ladies, and hopped on Buddy’s wheelchair whenever I saw him sitting out front two houses down; I snuck into my mother’s high-heeled Candie’s and I danced, breathless, to Michael Jackson: I was off the wall.
Whatever I imagined myself as, I became.
I’m no stranger to hurling my heart over the line and following it. I come by it natural. But the years have a way of letting us down, softening our edges, dimming our brilliance and turning us on ourselves so much until we can’t see straight. We can’t tell what’s real anymore. It’s like dating that person who’s just wrong enough to make you view yourself in poor light; it’s that so-called bff who says she’s glad to see you but constantly critiques your presentation; that family member always on hand with a damning two-cents’ worth that you never asked for; the negative peer, colleague or internal talk constantly telling you you’re as dull as your second-hand knives, costume jewelry and old jokes.
How can they all be wrong? we ask. Then we stop asking. And we scale your vision down. Then down again until one day we look around and can’t see a new dream for miles. Defeated yet unalarmed, we return to a dreamless sleep.
This is the anatomy of a vision bored.
To bring it more clearly into focus, a vision bored is one that relishes predictability and order. The vision bored favors formulas and facts and has no time for wild colors and inscrutable spontaneous music. The vision bored doesn’t abide loud voices asking why and bucking systems; Lower your voice, it says. And your gaze.
How can you tell if your vision’s bored? Ask it to pass a picture of your wildest dream in front of your mind’s eye. If it takes more than a moment, then you’ve got your answer: your vision’s bored. If the image has anything to do with TV, celebrities, or the Joneses it’s also bored. And if it doesn’t cause the slightest twinge of anxiety in you when you see it—this wild dream of yours—then it’s definitely bored.
My mother was zero tolerance on boredom around our house. ‘Go somewhere!’ she’d tell us whenever we came whining. Her response was often all the encouragement we kids needed to entertain ourselves, to make stuff up, to develop independence and interests, relying solely on our imagination and curiosity. Truth be told, we didn’t always ‘go somewhere!’ constructive, but we learned from the bruises, too.
As grown folks, rushing into the streets, screaming for no good reason, wearing kitchen towel hair and throw rug capes might not inspire creativity the same way it did when we were little. Still, in the spirit of waking up your vision, what are you willing to do to get there?
We give up too easy. We turn a certain age or rack up debt (or income), and we think we can’t afford to play games or have dreams anymore. We think because we’re _________ we’re beyond being a beginner at something we’ve loved but didn’t pursue because it didn’t make sense in the eyes of that friend, former lover, family member—that first person who frowned over their glasses at us for even considering the impossible.
It’s amazing, the power we wield. I’ve worked with people who were seeking permission to simply try again and to be held accountable by someone who saw their longing to dare in a new direction.
It can feel like a miracle when we encounter yaysayers who urge us on in boldness and truth to ourselves. And it can feel like trudging shoeless through winter when we don’t. By the way, my friend Julie first introduced me to the term—yaysayers. Isn’t that just everything right there?
If your vision’s bored, here are three tips to help you revive it. Try them out and see if it doesn’t help you ‘go somewhere!’ new. At the very least, it will beat the hell out of boredom.
SAY IT One of the first steps to exploring a new vision is to breathe life into it by speaking it aloud. Visions are just that: visions. To be made real in the world, they have to take on skin and bone. And to do that, they need the added dimension of you speaking them into being. If the prospect of saying your deal out loud makes you nervous, good. It means the dream’s at least big enough to put your comfort zone on notice.
Years ago I worked with a coach who instructed me to tell 10 new people a day that I was building a business. If you could have seen me shifting from one foot to the other, sweating like a derelict, looking everywhere but in the eyes of the people I was speaking to. My voice caught and cracked like an adolescent boy’s. It was terrible. I couldn’t handle the energy of it. Yet in the beginning there is the word, and it sets the tone for everything. Speak it.
BE IT This one won’t be easy for control freaks or people who deem themselves too smart for fun and shenanigans. This step requires you to literally put your skin in the game. Whatever your vision is, ask yourself how the new you would feel and carry herself (or himself) in any situation. Consider these questions too:
How would the new you enter the room?
How would the new you feel when receiving compliments?
Who are the people you’d engage with most often?
How does the new you treat yourself when you win? When you fail?
What does the new you say and see when facing the mirror?
Whom does the new you trust?
What matters most to the new you?
What does the new you do in the face of other people’s pessimism?
How does the new you view the past? The present? The future?
Keep asking questions of the new you, and as the answers come, act them out in your daily life—starting now. No one has to know what you’re playing at, but if you practice this one often enough, the change will be apparent on its own.
ACCEPT IT It’s been said that we get what we tolerate. The first time I heard that one, I squirmed. I tried to explain it away, which meant I rationalized my own low expectations. The good thing about this truth is that we can upgrade our tolerance for the things that serve us well in the new vision and cut off our tolerance for the rest.
I once (okay, more than once) dated a guy (okay, okay, more than one guy) who had a great disappearing act. He was a kind of Copperfield—like, gone in 60 seconds, poof—whenever we got close. I tolerated it because I figured he needed space, or he was busy, or wounded, or conflicted and I was the only one who understood him… blech. As I learned more about what healthy relationships looked like, and the parts I was playing in my dysfunctional ones, my tolerance for escape acts dried up.
Accepting the fact that I wasn’t honoring my own needs was hard, but it also showed me how my self-esteem had been shaped by misinformation and limited experience. The upside: when we accept that we can change our experience for the better, the work becomes worth it.
NOTE: I never said these tips were going to be easy to implement. Vision is a big deal. BIG. Stop for a minute right now and look around the space you’re in. Your eyes are taking in more information than you’ll ever consciously register. Same goes for your vision; it’s vast, and it’s not without its obstacles.
Saying, being and accepting your renewed vision will force you to address areas that you may have been neglecting. The process will uproot your routine in its blaze to lay a new foundation. The more you practice at it, the deeper you’ll have to look into your own heart. You might be called to scrap some relationships. There will be stretches you’ll have to walk alone. You might even feel tempted to knock yourself for not getting started sooner. Not to worry, now is always the right time.
Are you ready?
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