A few days ago, I did
the marketing must of a good business and sent out a newsletter to my email
list. Although there is little income
for my efforts at this point, it was remarkable to notice how busy I am, how
many pies have been created for my fingers to nibble.
Days slip through our grasp and race around the corners
of each season. Before we know to look
in the mirror, grey hairs and wrinkled skin overshadow the youthful vigor still
so rich in our thoughts. Insidiously, we
consider more often the big decisions in terms of how much time we have left instead
of with the open-ended assumption of how much lies ahead. As the sense that time runs out grows
stronger, the urge to evaluate proportionally vies for control.
Not yet supporting myself in this time and therefore accountable
to my father and family for his help, the pressure is even more severe. By the measuring stick of not paying bills
from my own pocket, I fail to meet standards that have been in place for millennia.
With time and money in short supply, it would be easy to
dwell in depression. This two year anniversary of my fall from the scaffold
celebrated last weekend could have been the milestone of an event that spiraled
me onto a couch from which I might never have risen.
Instead, the best parts of my family heritage kicked in
and I have not only restructured my concept of myself, but taken bold steps to
embrace the man who has emerged from his cave, creating opportunities from
disaster. The process of the newsletter
provided a summation, in part, that declared to myself more than anyone else
that I am already fully recovered.
Regardless of time and money, my head is full, my heart
is open and I move forward every day on the projects that bring joy to me and
seem in some small ways to have values to others. Rather than sitting around with the
television droning on and on, with the amazingly fortunate support of my father
(giving credit and appreciation where they are due), no matter how frustrated
and bewildered he might be, I have the rare gift to transform the "y"
in busy to an "i" in business.
A more important measurement than dollars and days is
value. Here the increments have no
relation to quantity, but flounder and thrive according to the perceptions of
each indidual. Nearly desperate to
justify the price others have had to pay for me to change in these last years,
I can easily be my own worst critic.
The newsletter puts forth in a sudden blitz of apparent ego
a list of activities that would make any mother proud. Several manuscripts are fast approaching
publication. A CD of original songs
nears completion, a project for which I even dare to request your financialsupport through kickstarter.
In addition, this flurry of self-promotion includes
appearances on public access TV and online interviews. Suddenly I am producing videos and a tele-seminar
about staying spiritual during the holidays.
Creating connections to make this happen requires a full time job of
networking without pay beyond laughter and benefits more solid than friendship.
The most difficult piece in the puzzle is the very central
notion that the product of my business is me.
Manufacturing myself as a commodity, I have to also produce the unmitigated
gall to imagine my songs and words have value and my efforts are worth
publicizing. Asking for the donation of
your dollars, and more importantly, your precious time, requires a leap of
faith on my part, an inordinate trust in your good patience, kindness and
understanding as well.
Only the result makes the difference between a hero and a
fool. Attitude and motivation are not so
easily quantifiable as the money and time we are so comfortable using to judge
the actions of ourselves and others.
What we do with ourselves, how we spend our precious time, whether we
help or hurt those around us, should bear far more weight on the tablet of our lives
than the size of our bank accounts and the facade of our house.
Time will prove if I have the ability to push these projects
to completion and time will also tell if the general public approves the
effort. Between the two, there is a huge difference and a life to lead.
This essay began for me as a commentary on how we decide
if we are good enough to strut our stuff, but as in life itself, has evolved
from what I first imagined.
Like the days when whole families depended on my payroll
and houses stood or fell with my decisions, I awake this morning with rampant
thoughts of all the things needing my attention, but at long last, am
sleeping well through the night.
Dollarless and years beyond the life expectancy of the Middle Ages, for
better or worse, I find myself in a renaissance of my own and have never been happier.
Please share with your friends
Tweet
No comments:
Post a Comment