Let Us Compare Mythologies

There’s been a lot of talk around the internet lately about manifestos and life lists, and I love that stuff. Seriously. Big life lists are sensationally exciting to me. And manifestos? Color me drooling. I’ve had the life list for awhile now, but felt I really needed something more concise…a, well, manifesto. If you like. Oh, I know you’re not supposed to do these “me, too” blog posts. That’s okay. I love reading about what people want to do with their lives, and I reckon others might, too.

So here it is, my manifesto.

Ask for what you want. There’s this fabulous book I read in my early twenties, when I was still operating under the notion that my life’s path lay in the world of show business. It was all about hustle and strut then [WAIT a sec—it still is!] and although I loved that world, I often found it hard to reconcile my introversion* with the nonstop party I needed to be.  Anyway, I needed encouragement. Something to foster my bravery. And this book was it. It’s a little dated now, just right around the edges (e.g., the internet was still a newish thing then), but the advice is still great. More than anything else, this book encouraged me to come right out and ask. (Because it turns out that, in fact, they can’t read your mind. Also: interpretive dance tends to confuse people. Much better to just ask.)

Defy categorization. I’ve never fit in. Anywhere. Too poor, too rich, too ethnic, too white, too smart, too young, too old. It was a bit of a nightmare during the formative years, as you might imagine. And to some extent, the fear I developed of never finding a group of people who would get me has stayed with me. I’m interested in a million things and very good at a few things, and possibly those things cannot be combined to score me the corner cubicle.  But at the ripe old age of thirty-four, I’ve decided: fuck it. Oh, look: I’m a free agent now, with what’s shaping up to be my dream job, and am surrounded by crazy-inspiring, super-supportive, vibrant, intelligent people. The end.

Be you. I love Gretchen Rubin’s site The Happiness Project. I’ve been known to spend upwards of an hour combing through the archives. One of the things she’s done is create her own personal commandments. The first of these is “Be Gretchen.” Simple, yet so profound.  Be you. It’s not an excuse for moral slovenliness; it’s a call to action. Be the honorable, true you that’s in there. That’s who you’re meant to be.

Collect your “NO”s. Prior to working in entertainment, I had grand ideas about becoming a working actor (a working actor generally does not wait tables, in case you’re wondering what the difference is between an actor and a working actor). One of the best lessons I learned in my acting classes was this: you have to go out and collect your “NO”s. As an actor, a lot of your time will be spent applying for jobs you will never get. You’re selling it like the rent’s due, all the time, and only a very small percentage of those sales will come to fruition. Sound familiar? Yeah. I thought so, too. It’s about not wasting time taking things personally [a lesson I am still learning]. The sooner you meet your “NO” quota, the sooner you’ll hear your yes. Yes?

No one else can speak your piece. The other day one of my amazing clients sent me her answers to my Brand Alchemy Session questionnaire. Among her thoughtful, intelligent offerings was this gem:  “No one else in the world is just like me – it is up to me to allow my truth to be spoken, or else my ideas will never be out there in the world.” It stopped me dead in my tracks. I saw with an almost surreal clarity that my approach has been backwards. I just didn’t know it. It’s my responsibility to speak my truth. And it’s your responsibility to speak yours.

Listen. Always. Everywhere. Listen to what people say—and to what they don’t say.

Say thank you. Always. Everywhere. People don’t do this much anymore. It matters, and it stands out.

Comb your hair and show up. This one is courtesy of Bob Brasier, my favorite real-life rock star. When all else fails, when you can do absolutely no more, when you’ve got nothing left to give. Comb your hair and show up. I’ve repeated this one like a mantra every time I’ve found myself faced with a mistake, a tragedy, an embarrassing situation. It reminds me that showing up is better than not showing up. And when things get overwhelming, it can be infinitely helpful to reduce our overly-complicated lives to a yes/no checkbox.

Thoughts? Comments? What’s yours?

*I’m an extroverted introvert, not the regular kind. Much like a floodlight, I am either ON or OFF and require lots of OFF time in order to function. (And yes, it is tiring being this complicated. Le sigh!)