By: Sandra Guiraud
It took me a while to figure out what to write about. There are countless subjects I could touch upon that would be perfectly relevant and downright therapeutic in many ways for me and hopefully whoever would read. And yet, choosing a topic felt like I was playing my life: What if it’s not interesting? What if it drags forever and has people wanting to disintegrate out of boredom or sheer depression by the final punctuating period? What if I choose to talk about this and when I’m done realize I would have much rather spoken about that instead because it would have been, felt or looked better?
And so, I managed to take a very simple task, something I had knowingly and consciously signed up for and turned it into the World Cup of Doing Too Much. The only reason being, what if I suck?
O’ ye of little faith. Hath thou no faith in thyself?
Needless to say that clearly the faith levels in my ‘thyself’ need some seriously extreme makeover. Not that veneers and breast implants could do anything for it but a sober look in the mirror with a dash of assessments would most definitely be welcome. Why is it that I couldn’t just feed off the excitement that caused me to say ‘ oh Goodie! I’ll do it! ‘ To create the pull inspiration needed to manifest itself? Why is it that we – yes we because I can’t have a World Cup of Doing Too Much with only one participant – why is it that we somehow find ways to dampen our natural inclinations?
It’s not just about doing something that enthrals you or makes you genuinely happy. It’s also your natural ability to love, to care, to shine and to put yourself out there; that extra oomph that drives you on days you can’t quite explain it but you feel absolutely fabulous because everything just seems to work out and sometimes they do so even beyond your expectations.
And while you gloat in how lucky you are today because you’re having the ‘#bestdayever-omg!’, not once does it occur to you that the reason everything seems to work out is because you feel ( and are) absolutely fabulous. Because Grinch could come destroy Christmas, Marilyn Monroe could rise from the dead to sing a special song to your man on his birthday rubbing her bodacious self in your face and that bitch from work could get that promotion you’ve been eyeing since Jesus was still walking on Earth: you’d still feel absolutely fabulous.
Though it may sound slightly utopian (and absolutely impossible to do), if we think about it: it makes sense. As within so without, like attracts like, we’ve all been exposed to quantum theories and though its specialists all have some kind of crazy in the eye, the ideas might not be that crazy after all. And if indeed feeling fabulous is the key to a happy self, why don’t we? Why does some external validation have to show up to confirm that we must deserve some sort of happy for life to be so kind? To the point, you credit life, people, and circumstances for creating the most beautiful things in your lives forgetting that the one thing all that beauty has in common is… you. If like attracts like. Do the math.
And thus acknowledging that you are the source to both the happy and the not so happy in your life, that you are the master of the fabulous and are able to pull synchronicities, blessings, challenges, life lessons and sheer joy out of your powerful derriere, the true question is no longer hath though no faith in thyself but rather how much more proof do you need?
How much more proof do I need that even though I tend to think I’m not ____ enough, I have created a life for me that many would consider enviable? How much more proof do I need that the blessings in my life outnumber the not so blessings thousand fold because I am loved, healthy, safe ( and awesome!) ? How much more proof do I need that even though I was worried about not having anything to write about, I just gave birth to an 800 words article that might be published on a blog I thoroughly enjoy and you’re actually still reading?
If you sit and ponder on every time you have been the source of your happy, you can trace back to the times you were the source of your sad. And it becomes undeniable that like Midas who touched things to gold, you can touch things to beauty…or not.
If like attracts like… do the math while I herewith declare the World Cup of Doing Too Much …no longer relevant.