Helloooooo!!!

I’m feeling experimental today, so I initiated an experiment. I have no expectations about the results and unlimited excitement about the potential. It’s less about results and more about the rise in vitality I experience through the act of putting an idea out there and connecting with others in order to do so.

The notion of a well-intentioned chain letter comes to mind. It’s like an energetic improv, can I “Yes and…” to keep the flow going and uplift what’s being created or do I “No but…” because I don’t believe I know how or that it really matters. Either way, we become aware, as do the others around us. It’s all just practice. Opportunities to practice. To give. To receive. To eff it up. By accident. By intention. By unawareness. To try again. To succeed. By choice. By oneself. By the collective. To just have fun. By allowing. By listening. By sharing.

The intent of the experiment is not a chain letter. It is simply to take what feels like a risk (to me), in the direction of truly starting to share my writing, identify myself as the writer I am, and notice any resonance.

The Experiment:

I listened to this great episode of Seth Godin on the #AmWriting podcast and he says to take a PDF of your first book and email to 30 people you know who won’t delete the email. Ask them to share, but only if they like it and see what happens.

At first, I thought it sounded like the worst idea ever. Then, I wished I had a book that I had written and didn’t get published or was published but not well-received to see what would happen. Eventually, I remembered I do have a book. I made my first book while finishing college. I wrote it, laid out the text, figured out how to print on both sides without a duplex printer, “designed” the cover and sealed it with glossy contact paper, added a vellum flyleaf page and assembled it by hand. It’s one of those items that is dear to me for many reasons. It will always be my first book. I will always like it for what it is and how it came to be.

It came about at a time when I was struggling quite a bit. I was finishing up my undergrad Communication Studies, PR and Advertising degree. The idea of committing to 9-5, plus a career was terrifying. My daughter was 2, and I was feeling so much pressure to start my career and be a provider. Not to mention a major lack of sleep and still experiencing the mild identity crisis of being a new-ish, young-ish mother.

A woman came to our senior capstone class to talk about vocation. She showed this clip from Sister Act 2, when Sister Mary Clarence (Whoopi Goldberg) ambushes Rita (Lauryn Hill) and encourages her to sing by sharing the story of Letters to a Young Poet by Rainer Maria Rilke. I started crying and I couldn’t stop. I politely let my instructor know that I was okay, but I needed to leave class.

While watching that clip, I felt so clearly that all I wanted to do was write. It was so unexpected when it hit me, I cracked and saw how much I had been fighting and denying myself. I had to go. I went to the coffee shop we lived above and wrote and wrote and wrote. Relief and happiness rushed in. I felt like I was in a movie. Like the culmination of everything had risen to the highest point, released and that wave of knowing that no matter what happened, the protagonist, I, was going to be okay. The Flaming Lips song “Do you realize?” became my soundtrack the moment I realized that I was experiencing that “happiness makes you cry.”

The next thing I recall is that our class was gearing up for the final assignment. We were to select a book from the list we were given to read and write a paper. It was a good list of books, Man’s Search for Meaning by Victor Frankl, Biology of Belief by Bruce Lipton, I and Thou by Martin Buber, and several others. I kept trying to read one of the books, but I couldn’t read — it just wasn’t sticking. I started getting worried and stressed out. Finally, I decided to talk to my professor and ask him if I could write my own book for my final project. I knew he was a gracious being, so I was extremely grateful, but not surprised, that he obliged. His feedback touched me even more. He shared how much he liked it and even recited one of the lines to me. It made me feel simultaneously uncomfortable and proud. I always wished I had made more than one copy of the book, because I think he would have appreciated a copy of it.

I wrote long letters to both of the professors I mentioned and never sent them. I lost the moment, the momentum and the courage to put myself out there. Though I was immensely grateful, my doubt and fear were greater. Last year, I put a little effort toward trying to figure out how to send the letters, but one had retired. I let it go. Again. These seemingly small moments of not expressing what I have to share have accumulated over the years. If you’re thinking or feeling “that is sad.” You are exactly right. That = sad.

This brings me back to whatever it is this experiment might be. When it comes to expression, I believe it is never too late. There is always a way to honor those moments and people I may have let pass by, only because I cared more than I knew how to express at the time — or simply because I was too afraid to put myself out there. That fear and hesitation would have taken away from the clarity of the intention, because it would have been about me and not the person who was meant to be recognized and honored. Sometimes it is acceptable to show up late and in my own way. Though, I am aware part of my dharma is to learn to show up in the moment, at the intended time, with only the doors to my head and heart open and nothing outwardly prepared or wrapped in a pretty bow. It’s easy to forget in this world, why this IS something! Why this is EVERYTHING. To be open. To [be willing to] receive and be received.

I’m looking forward to continuing to share more about the project I am working on now. It’s a slow and challenging process. Grateful for all the brilliance, support and encouragement from so many kind and caring individuals past, present and future.

It’s amazing to look back and realize everything always works out. A delay is not a delay. It may just be a richer and more efficient way of arriving where we aim to be. In fact, I wasn’t ready then, but I am ready now. We always know everything we need to know at any given time and quite possibly for our lifetime. Even now, as I write this post, I know it may only resonate with one person, and if I’m really honest, that person might just be me. That’s okay with me and it’s okay with Seth Godin, because each of us touch the lives of so many others without even knowing it. This is the BRILLIANCE of the human experience and my writing journey.

I will eventually email the PDF to 30 people, but for now, I’ve started with four people, along with anyone else who finds and reads this blog post and feels moved to participate.

Download>> Darklit by Laura Peppin, 2006

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Thank you for following @blueprintwellness.life to see my writing journey and #alltheloveandnoexcuses #blueprintwellness experiment unfold.

Brightly,

Laura Peppin