A few weeks ago, a friend overheard me offering to help someone with her resume, and commented on how generous I was to do that.  

Well, maybe.  I mean, even though I barely knew the person I was offering to help, she seems nice, and I knew she was struggling to get job interviews.  As an ex-corporate-hiring-manager, I know what makes a resume stand out.  So why not help?

At the same time, no matter how many offers I make, I’m pretty sure I won’t get overwhelmed.  Because most people – the vast majority of people – never take me up on it. 

It’s the same with a small business mastermind group I lead through a local professional organization.  It’s open to anyone who’s a member of the organization.  Yet of all the people who attend the meetings, only a few are there consistently - even though every one of them, when asked, says the group provides terrific support and help that they need.

Why don’t people accept help?

I’ve tried turning that around, to ask myself why I might not accept help when it’s offered.

I suppose I might question whether they really meant it.  But to me, that’s messing in someone else’s business.  If they offer, it seems rude to assume they’re lying to me!

Or I suppose I might wonder if the offer came with strings attached.  Sometimes gratitude is beautiful and open-hearted, and sometimes it creates feelings of indebtedness and resentment.

But in the end, the only reason I actually remember thinking and feeling when someone offered to help was … holy crap, that scares me to death.  I can’t say “yes” to that!

What was being offered touched a lot of vulnerable places – a lot of places I deeply wanted to explore, but was also very afraid to look at. 

In the end, I accepted – and it has transformed my life and my business.  

Yes, it was a whole lot bigger than reviewing a resume.  But on the other hand, you just never know.   Something as simple as a resume review can mean the difference between getting a job you really love … and wondering why you never get called for an interview. 

(Please note, by the way, that this is an example.  I’m not offering to review anyone’s resume.  However, a few months ago I did offer, here on the blog, to review your website.  Why didn’t you take me up on it?)

So, why don’t you accept help?

What help is being offered to you, right now, that you could accept?

That help I accepted? It came from Jon Hansen, who’s also my business partner on Finding Another Way.

This despite the fact that – among other things – I’ve created an amazing list of programs and products that I’m ready, now, to start developing and offering.  The outlines are clear, I’m focused and inspired, and I know exactly what to do next.  

Not only that, but I also know how much these offerings will help people who need it.

So why is my mind so upset?

Because I did this by breaking a lot of rules. 

I did it by not sitting at my desk.

I did it by not working on my computer.

I did it by … digging dandelions. 

Taking a walk. 

Sitting in the window seat with a notebook and my fountain pen. 

Going to buy milk, veggies, and kitty litter.  (And oh, yes – cat treats – without which I would probably have been thrown out of the house this evening.)

My mind, as you might gather from this, subscribes to a very Puritan work ethic.  It discards the notion that creativity has a flow that can’t be denied.  It pooh-poohs the idea that it’s okay not to work at my desk, and instead to get messy with pen and ink and a flow of un-edited, somewhat random thoughts.  And it’s frankly horrified at the notion that running personal errands in the middle of the day is actually perfectly okay and even reasonable.

I’m so glad that – even though it was a little difficult at times - I didn’t listen to its cries of dismay and predictions of doom.

Because working on these programs and products is going to be fun. 

And seeing how people take them and use them and find what they need in them is going to be … sublime. 

So who’s up for a little doing nothing?

Really, way-down-deep aware of it?

Your work matters.  Whatever it is that you do, it matters.

I don’t mean this in the comforting way someone might say it when you’re feeling depressed or frustrated about your business.

Quite the opposite.  There’s nothing comforting or reassuring about this.

Because when you know it to be true, you don’t get to stop and take it easy.  There aren’t any excuses any more.  You’re compelled by this realization to put yourself out there in a much bigger way. 

And that’s frightening to the part of you that would far prefer to believe that it’s not all that important, because then it gets to stay safe and protected. 

I don’t need to know what you do to know that it matters.

If you really, deeply knew that your work matters - who would you be?

What would you do differently, right now, this minute?

Go do it.

Clarity?  You bet.  Absolute clarity about what they want to accomplish.  Absolute clarity about how they’re going to do it. 

Focus?  Well, if you’ve ever seen Cirque du Soleil perform, you know there’s focus.  There has to be.  Without it, the show would come to a screeching halt because all the performers would be injured.

Perfection?  Nope!

There are way too many moving parts, way too many variables, way too many opportunities for things to go slightly differently every time.

That’s why they use live music, after all.  The musicians watch what’s happening onstage, and adjust on the fly if something takes longer – or shorter – than usual, or if a performer misses an action and chooses to do it again. 

They almost always get it right the second time – but the point is, they don’t always get it right the first time.   Even after all the practice and all the performances, there are still imperfections in every show.

We watched someone fall from the high wire last night, missing the landing as he leaped over one of the other acrobats.  He caught the wire with his hands, pulled himself back up, tried again – and nailed it.

My point is, you don’t have to wait for perfection when you’re striving for clarity and focus.  Inspired action takes place without needing perfection. 

In fact, I’d say that perfection is the enemy of inspiration.  Because inspiration allows for the occasional fall as well as the flashes of brilliance.

What do you think?

On New Year’s morning at dawn, I was on the beach watching the moon set and the sun rise.

I’m a morning person.  For me, it makes complete sense to be up in the wee hours of the new year, walking the beach, playing tag with the incoming tide, and seeing the birds wake up and the dolphins roll in the surf.  Some of my most profound experiences of deep Silence have been on New Year’s mornings amid the crash of the waves and cry of the seagulls.

This year, I received a gift.

Halfway down the beach, with the sun’s light just beginning to shade the eastern sky from black to indigo blue, a core intention arrived.  It didn’t announce itself in any way.  If I hadn’t been attuned to Stillness and not to my thoughts, I might have missed it.

I choose to be who and what I truly am.

One of the interesting things about intentions is that what rings through one person’s being like a bell may leave everyone else unmoved.

And that’s exactly as it should be.

So if this intention means nothing at all to you – if you’re raising an eyebrow and wondering what all the fuss is about – that doesn’t mean anything except that, well, it isn’t your intention. 

Ever since I received it on New Year’s morning, it’s been a constant background presence.  Sometimes it’s louder – sort of like when you get a song stuck in your head (though not nearly as annoying).  Sometimes it’s quieter, a subsonic hum in the bones of my being.

I choose to be who and what I truly am.

Living this intention – though when an intention rings this powerfully, it may be more accurate to say that it’s living me – has already been interesting.  There are no excuses left for me to hide any part of who and what I am, from myself or from anyone else.  No more masks, no more altering myself to try to be what I think others want from me.

Just me.  Who and what I truly am.

With all of that said, there are two things I want to point out from the standpoint of the original article and the conversation I’d like to invite here.

First, intentions arrive in different ways for different people.  And the most powerful intentions arrive without being figured out or thought through.

Second, I’ve said it before, and it bears repeating:  intentions aren’t goals. 

For many people, goals and objectives quickly become rules and ways to feel bad about yourself.   I freely acknowledge that this is especially true for me – and you’ll notice that there’s nothing that even hints at a goal in I choose to be who and what I truly am.  It allows me all the space I could possibly want to feel what I feel and be where I am in any given moment.  What it doesn’t let me do is deny that or turn away from myself…

When I work with clients to help them set intentions, we often find ourselves exploring goals to begin with.  It’s not until we dive deeper into questions of how someone wants to feel and be that the true intention shows up.

What comes up for you?  What’s been your experience with goals, intentions, and choices?

I’d love to hear!

Most of the women on this forum – or at least, most of those who asked questions – are in the early to early-middle stages of their careers.  Many of them have advanced degrees.  They’re smart, highly-educated, articulate, and want their careers to be more than just “a job” – they’re seeking meaning and value.

For me, looking back from a rather older perspective (to say the least!), it was poignant in many ways.  I can’t help thinking that if more people had these women’s views on their work, the world would be a happier – and probably healthier and more prosperous – place.

With all of that in mind, a recurring theme around “princess syndrome” was really striking to me.

What, you may ask, is this?   I’d never heard of it, but the context made it pretty clear.

Many of them feel as if they’re very fortunate.  They recognize that they’re relatively well off.  They have good educations and many of them are starting families.  They feel as if they have a lot.

And many of them feel guilty because, in the midst of having so much, their jobs strike a jarringly unsatisfying note.  Whether it’s not being sufficiently challenged, not doing work they feel is worthwhile or an expression of who they are, or they’re just not happy in the career where they’ve landed, they don’t feel right, somehow, about what they do for a living.

Yet because they feel privileged, in one way or another, they’re asking the deeply sad question:  do I deserve to enjoy my job?  Or should I just suck it up and not make waves – since I have so much in the rest of my life?

In other words, they feel like princesses.  They feel as if they not only shouldn’t complain, they shouldn’t even try to do anything about how they feel.  They feel as if they shouldn’t even feel the way they do!

Of course I said – sometimes quite vehemently! – that they, just like everyone else, absolutely deserve to feel excited and inspired about what they do for a living.*

I even played dirty once or twice, asking, “What sort of example are you setting for your daughter if you allow yourself to be ’sucked under’ by this job that’s so completely not who you are?”

I’m happy to say that I think some of these women are taking steps – sometimes very big steps, sometimes apparently-smaller steps, but in every case very brave steps – towards change.  I’m pretty sure I’ve made a difference – and as you know if you’ve been reading this blog and/or my newsletters (especially my Personal Manifesto post), that’s what’s incredible and meaningful for me in what I do!

And I wanted to bring this “princess syndrome” question out of hiding, as it were – out of the privacy of that forum, and put it here, in the public view.  I wanted to say, in this public place, that I think it’s a dreadful, terrible shame that these young women feel this way.**

I wanted to say that if any of you feel this way, please ask yourself if it’s true.  Is it true that you don’t deserve a good, rewarding job just because you may feel grateful and fortunate in other areas of your life?   Instead, isn’t it more true that not having a job you can enjoy to the hilt means that those other aspects of your life take on a slightly dimmer cast?  You spend too many hours of your life at work for it to be something other than what you want!

And I wanted to say that if any of you knows someone who feels this way – who’s got “princess syndrome” going on – please encourage her to step into the truth of what she wants.

You may not know what you want – but I know you know when you’re stuck in something you don’t want.  And just because you spent time, effort, and money on getting started in a career doesn’t mean you’re tied to it for life. 

Life is too short to feel suffocated, sucked under, stagnated in a job or a career that’s not right for you.  After all, it could be amazingly right for someone else.  So explore, learn, experiment, and discover what is right for you!

*Assuming someone wants to, that is; there are those who are content to do less-than-inspiring (for them) jobs, and find their joy and inspiration outside of work.

**There may be young men who have a similar “prince syndrome”; I don’t know, though given what I do know about the different ways men and women approach work and what they want, I’m going to say I rather doubt it.

I’m ridiculously productive.  My motto for years was, “Do it now!”  I’m fast in almost everything I do, from knitting (I was America’s Fastest Knitter in 2002) to typing, from copywriting to helping my clients realize new perspectives and discover new directions.  I’ve been hosting a very active “ask the coach” thread on a women’s forum (altdotlife), and one person commented, “You’re a machine!”

It’s exhausting.  I constantly wonder if there’s enough time to do everything I need to get done.  Even though I know that there’s always enough time, in an absolute sense – just enough, never too much, never too little - I’ve endlessly continued the battle.

As my business grows, I’ve been presented with opportunity upon opportunity to see how painful this relationship with time really is.  And I see the direct connection between my fight with time and my feelings about enrolling new clients.  My clients’ deadlines and appointments always come first.  So when I’m in constant conflict with time, how can I not feel anxious about adding new work to my schedule?

And of course it’s not just this sense of pressure.  There’s also a big cloud of resentment that hangs around and dumps on me every so often.  Blech.

I’m sick of it.  I’m done with it.  I choose to stop.  I’m ready to heal my relationship with time, to find peace instead of struggle. 

The part of me that’s perpetuated the battle is sure that this means disaster. 

Fortunately, the bigger “I” knows I’m perfectly capable of getting things done, on time and well, without having to fight with time and myself every step of the way.

Actually, that part of me suspects it’s all going to get done even faster.

Because after all, who needs to spend time fighting with time?

(Just for the record, time doesn’t actually exist.  I mean, have you ever experienced any moment other than “now”?  But that’s really a whole nother question…)

I wasn’t particularly impressed by the results, which didn’t feel like me at all.  (Not only that, but I didn’t particularly like or even respect the other people in the office with the same results!)  Nonetheless, I was assured by the experts conducting the process that it was correct.

Fast forward a few decades.  My friend, coach, and business partner Jon Hansen has been telling me for a while now that he didn’t agree with those results either – and he has some experience using the tool.  So the other night, just out of curiosity, I found a quickie online version of the assessment and answered its questions.

The results were not only very different, they were astonishing.  This is me, right down to several little idiosyncracies that I thought were just that – personal-to-me idiosyncracies, quirks, or perhaps hangups that I “needed to work on.”

Now, I’ve done a lot of personal work.  And I know that labels aren’t important, are often inaccurate, and can be ways of avoiding real feelings and ducking out of responsibility for one’s actions.   So the depth and power of my sense of relief came as a total shock to me.

This new understanding – this new label – has released me from the jaws of a trap I knew was there, but didn’t know how to understand.  I know that there’s never anything to “fix.”  Neither I nor any of my clients nor anyone in this world is broken; wholeness is inherent in what we are.  Nonetheless, simply by replacing an inaccurate, ill-fitting label with one that’s so incredibly right, I feel a profound sense of validation and understanding that I’d never imagined was missing. 

And I see how the jaws of the trap have sprung open not just here and now, but all the way down the line.  All those times when I didn’t understand the discrepancies between how I felt and the reactions of others – all of that is suddenly and simply released, now, in the past, and for the future.

Pretty powerful, for just replacing a label.  But it leads to me to thinking about all the ways that we label, pigeonhole, and categorize ourselves.  And how we do that other people, too, of course, which tends to create self-fulfilling feedback loops – but that’s a topic for another time.

What labels have you been living?  Are they a fit, or do they pinch like a too-small pair of shoes – or slop around like when you were a kid playing dress-up in your mother’s shoes?

Last night, I attended my fourth networking event in a week.  There was a time when that would have been both unthinkable and absolutely exhausting.  Now, I have to say, it’s fun.  And productive: great connections leading to great opportunities.  And it keeps becoming more fun. 

I find it hard to believe I’m typing that.  It wasn’t that long ago that I counted myself among the “I loathe networking” contingent.

And in fact, last week I was on my way to the third networking event in two days, and I commented to a friend, “Actually, I’d really rather stick sharp objects in my eye than go to this event tonight.”  I was feeling tired, cranky, and late, and I hate being late.  But I’d paid for the event, and I was determined – even as I sat in Southern California traffic - to get there.

Somewhere on the southbound I5, something shifted.  Something in me said, okay.  Yes, I’m feeling tired, cranky, and late.  So what?  Just show up, already.  It’s all fine.

And I did.  I just showed up.  I had absolutely no expectations about who I’d see, what I’d “accomplish.”  I had no thoughts about being nervous, no thoughts about wanting to make connections, no worries about standing alone and awkward on the sidelines with no one to talk to. 

I had a blast.  I ran into a number of people I already knew, reconnected with some people I only knew slightly, and had great conversations with people I’d never met before.  I’ve got follow-up coffee dates and a new speaking opportunity.

And you know what?  I did it all again last night.  Well, not the whole tired/cranky/late thing, but the just show up part.  (I’m glad to say that “tired/cranky/late” is optional.)  And I made more great connections. 

Just show up. 

Obviously, those three simple little words can have an impact on more than just having fun at networking events.

Of course, “simple” doesn’t mean “easy.”  I found my way to “just show up” through feeling so frustrated and sick of myself that I let go.  Let go of how I felt, let go of expectations, let go of anxiety. 

Sometimes it has to happen that way.  But once you have that reference point, it’s a lot easier to get there without going through the “tired/cranky/late” cycle first.

Just show up…

Interested in learning more about networking and how to make it WORK?

My networking home-study package, How to Kiss Frogs and Find Royalty, is available for just three more days at the new-release price. The price goes up on August 1st. And my students are making a great transition from dread, dread, and dread to – hey, this is kinda fun!

1. A bottle of sherry vinegar at a local supermarket.
2. My networking homestudy package.
3. People’s response to the women’s group-coaching program my business partner and I co-facilitate.
4. The crown for the tooth I broke on Sunday evening.
5. Copywriting services.

There really is a common denominator between these very disparate items:  Value.  Or more accurately, perceived value – how much the potential purchaser (me or anyone else) believes the item or service is, or should be, worth.

And there is, of course, an interesting and delicate tension between the value perceived by the person selling and that perceived by the person buying.

What I’m starting to realize is that the buyer’s perception may have relatively little to do with the seller’s perception.  In fact, I’m starting to wonder how much the buyer’s perception of value has to do with the product itself.  As long as something isn’t priced completely out of range (either too low or too high), the buyer’s reaction seems to me to be about him, not about the seller or about the thing being sold.  (I’m not intending any sort of judgment; it’s just a perception thing.)

Of course, this assumes that the product or service is fully understood by both buyer and seller.   And that’s where the whole thing either comes together or breaks down.  If I lack real understanding of why I need to get a crown for that broken tooth, then my dentist’s price isn’t going to feel reasonable to me. 

On the other hand, when I have a certain expectation about the taste of a good sherry vinegar, my surprise at its low price on the supermarket shelf means I’ll leave it right there instead of putting it in my cart.

Obviously, the seller’s responsibility to potential customers is to be clear about why they need what she’s selling.  No surprise there; it’s the core of every marketing message, and the reason why good copywriters are all about the benefits and results (not those pesky features!). 

It’s also the seller’s responsibility to himself to be clear about the real value of what he’s selling.  Underpricing tells a story just as loudly as overpricing.

But in the end, the seller needs to let herself off the hook when someone doesn’t seem to get it.  Because no matter how clear the offer, no matter how explicit the benefits, no matter how accurate the pricing – if someone thinks the price is out of whack, that really does say more about him than it does about the seller.

Again, I intend no judgment.  In fact, this is me seeing through some of the judgments I’ve inflicted on myself. It sometimes feels like a potential client has rejected me when she turns away from an offering she’d been interested in.  But that’s not actually true – and it’s also not true that it’s necessarily the fault of my marketing efforts. 

Sometimes the sherry vinegar just needs to stay on the shelf.