Nothing prepared me for the cussin’ bullies, spit wad projectiles, or knuckle thumping contests (why?) that awaited in 7th grade homeroom.

Every morning my stomach churned and my hackles raised like a cornered rescue dog.

One especially stinky rite of passage was gym class. And I mean basketball.

Volleyball, fine. Square dancing — a blast. The Electric Slide? Amazing.

I even excelled at bowling.

But basketball?

I’d never recovered from the peewee league shame debacle when I
🏀 grabbed a rare rebound,
⛹️‍♂️ double dribbled like lil hillbilly Larry Bird to the other end of the court, and
🗑️ attempted 3 underhand shots (all unsuccessful)

into the other team’s hoop.

I realized the error when the opposing team kids filed by, pointed and laughed — a bizarro version of the “good game” hand slap line.

I never made friends with basketball after that. And my classmates knew it.

So, they always picked me last.

👟👟👟 (sneaker time lapse ⏱️)

When I was grown up (and nobody was making me play basketball,) I hosted an industry biz event in LA. I invited a successful actor/author to speak. 

This person had wrestled actor success from the jaws of hardship —

(moved to NYC later in life, pounded the commercial pavement, landed series regulars, and became a go-to guide for actors navigating the industry.)

The panel talked about creating opportunities — My jaw almost hit the concrete floor when I heard this seasoned pro say, “No. I want to be PICKED. I want someone to point to me and say, ‘You. I choose you.'”

There they sat — clearly with enough IMDB evidence to tell them they’d been picked a lot. And still —

We all wanna be picked. It’s a real need.

I also find that when I go ahead and pick myself, 3 things happen:

☝️ it shakes things loose and gets things moving
✌️ creates a combo creator energy: solid with a side of shaky
🤟 ironically, more folks wanna pick you for things after you go ahead and pick yourself

You notice things showing up to help you–

an eager collaborator, a space to perform your show, a guy who knows a gal who’s got a room where you can rehearse.

Sometimes it’s the right teacher, the right class, the right community.

And still, when we get the chance to choose ourselves — to invest and fill our cup, we balk.

I mean, dang. Yesterday, I tried counting to 30 for each quadrant when I was brushing my teeth, and even that was uncomfortable.

It’s hard to leap into good things for ourselves. 

But you get that nudge.

The quiet, kind voice that says, “It’s time.”

Your fire to do the thing uses fear like fuel; your clarity’s like sunshine clearing the fog.

Most of all, I want you to step your brave, superb, unrepeatable self forward and feel the energy you generate as you say, yep, I’m choosing me for the team!

You’ll be excited AND scared, and we’ll say THANK YOU for being courageous (meaning full of HEART) enough to SHARE the one and only you.

Because remember, there IS only one you. Folks need to hear the story only you can sing.

Love much,