If an eavesdropping stranger told you that the project that you are working on full-time and hardcore right now, the project that’s your baby, the project that you’re longing to see come to fruition, that is your reason for getting out of bed in the morning to work on, is doomed to failure, would it take the wind out of your sails?

Or if someone you trust told you that you weren’t clear enough about what you wanted for the project, and maybe people just don’t get it, so that’s why they’re not taking part.  Or if you realize that your current reach is that of a t-rex, and you, clearly an otherwise impressive beast, are waving your tiny little arms in the air, and no one is really seeing you, because, you know, tiny little arms. Or no one is looking, because, you know, dinosaur.

Would it slay you?

Here’s the truth: I’m not stopping.

First of all, I’m going to admit that it’s still a little early, and that my panic is maybe jumping the gun. (And before that, I’m going to make coffee, because that’s what I do when things look bizarre.*) Then I’m going to wrap my head around this panic gently, sort out the emotions from the actual happening stuff, and try things I haven’t tried yet. I’m going to ask more and better questions, and continue to pay attention to the answers. I’m going to thank my lucky stars that I haven’t made any reservations yet, in case I need to extend deadlines. I’m going to bug people I admire a little bit. I’m going to focus on my clarity and my reach, put my shoulder up against the trunk, and fucking push this mood out of the mud so that I can gain traction on the project.** I’m going to get the dinosaur some good tools.

Because too many times I’ve let doubt sideline my shit. Doubt, fear, money, or feeling unsupported can get me mired on any given day. Pain is inevitable, but suffering is optional. This would be me, getting out of my own head, and back into the game. Let’s do this.***

I’mma go brew some coffee up. Anyone in for a cup?



*Perspective perspective perspective. Everything is easier to visually understand when one has a cup of coffee in her hand.
**When we put on the first production of The Vagina Monologues here in 2003, it was like this. I remember clearly, talking (babbling, really) on the phone with the national organizer, insisting that I couldn’t do this, and that I had fucked up everything to do with making the production happen. I was losing my shit in a million ways, when she put a stop to it in her gentle, South African-accented voice, and cooed, “It will be fiiiine. Everything will be allllll riiiiight.” Then I took a deep breath, got out of my own way, and let it happen.
***Or, as Jarett would say, “Hold my beer and watch this shit.”