Matchstick Box
March 7, 2014
May 7, 2014
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So here it is. Straight up.

I have no idea what I’m doing.

Silas says it’s because I’m a pioneer. I say it’s because I’m an ignorant slut. But yanno, in a good way. Like Jane Curtain.

In the not-too-distant past, a brilliant marketer took some of my workshops and declared me the “Best Thing Ever.” Well, I’m not certain those were her exactly words, but close.

She said I should be on TedX. I should be on Oprah’s couch. I should have my own reality TV show. (On that last count, I have to agree with her, and it’s not the first time I’ve been told this. How much would I love to show you what happens in our Wonderland house???)

So she proposed to help brand and market me so the world could discover what it’s missing so sorely.

Only one problem. I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.

Sound familiar?

I thought I knew. And then a big, giant dark-night-of-the-soul wrecking ball landed in my living room and obliterated my trajectory.

Here’s what I do know. I’m a storyteller and a writer. I’m a performer, a poet, an artist and filmmaker. I am a teacher, a soul coach and a possiblitarian. I’m a museum curator and spectacle-director. Mostly I’m a muse, which means I’ll use any medium at my disposal (or at my whimsy) to inspire you.

In a nutshell: I am branding guru’s nightmare.

The result of so many months of discerning and deciphering the question “Who Am I” from a marketing point of view made me realize:

I am a work in progress.

Whatever I have to offer, and let’s just be candid, I am a Jill of many trades and have multi-dimensional tricks up my creative sleeve, has to be offered from place of truth. And right now, that truth is this: I’m feeling my way forward.

Sometimes gracefully, sometimes stumblingly, always hopefully.

And so this website, and really every word, image and creation I have to offer, has to be an unfolding.

I am an unfolding.

And so are you.

Sometimes we’re pure genius. Sometimes we can’t manage to pick up our underwear off the bathroom floor for three days.

But always, always, there remains this essential truth: we are more than our business card. We are more than our resume. We are stardust and the stuff of dreams.

And we are called, always, to remember it.

In these moments of doubt and uncertainty. In these flashes of stellar clarity. In our messy-falling down-getting up-moving forward-milestone leaping-stumble-bumble-blindsided and brilliant becoming…we are beckoned to remember who we are.

Right here. This breath. This moment.

Hear that? It sounds like an exhale. But it’s the sound of stardust. Unfolding.

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