Hi Reader,
The first time this opportunity came around, I let fear go first.
It was a summit I wanted to be part of. I had the experience. I had the message. What I did not have, or what I told myself I did not have, was permission. So I waited. I told myself I needed more time, more polish, more proof that I was ready. By the time I finally reached for the courage to apply, the window had already closed.
I tuned in anyway, as a participant. The speakers were incredible and I left inspired. But I also left with a quiet promise. The next time the application opened, I would not let fear go first.
So the next time it opened, I applied early.
That is how I ended up leading a session for more than two hundred women from around the world. My first forty five minute talk to a global audience. And in the days before, I felt the old pull again, the one that dresses itself up as preparation. Refining, editing, adjusting, making sure every word landed exactly right. At some point I had to stop and tell myself the truth. I did not need more preparation. I needed presence.
So I logged on. I asked my first question. And the chat came alive.
Women naming what they were feeling in real time. Calm. Inspired. Brave. This is me. Being ready is a myth. I leaned all the way in, so far into the message that I adjusted how I was sitting without even thinking about it. I was not bracing for what came next. I was simply in it.
Afterward, the co-host said something I have not forgotten.
Thank you for coaching us.
That was the whole thing in one sentence. I had not delivered a presentation. I had held a coaching conversation in a larger room. And the first time around, I missed it completely. Not because the work was wrong for me, but because I let how hard it felt to get there decide whether I belonged there at all.
I wrote the whole story of that day, the year I waited and the year I finally stopped waiting, in Ready Enough. If you missed it, that is the fuller version of everything I just told you.
Inspired in Practice
Here is what I want to name in this issue, because I think a lot of us get it backwards.
We treat the difficulty of reaching something as information about the thing itself.
It feels hard to get to, so we decide it must not be for us. The fear is loud, so we assume the fear is telling the truth. The resistance shows up, so we read the resistance as a sign to turn back.
But the friction of getting to something and the truth of the thing itself are two completely separate things. And the friction wears a lot of faces. Sometimes it is fear. Sometimes it is perfectionism dressed up as preparation. Sometimes it is simply a full life and a calendar that will not cooperate. None of those are verdicts. They are just the noise between you and the work.
I wrote about a different version of this recently in Living in the And, where the friction was not fear but capacity, the plain difficulty of finding the hours for the work I feel most called to do. Different obstacle, same lesson. The difficulty of getting there was never a verdict on the work. The verdict is in how I feel once I arrive. And every single time I get there, the work confirms itself.
The hard part was never the work. The hard part was getting to the work. I try not to confuse the two anymore.
Reflections
So here is the practical version.
The next time you catch yourself circling something instead of doing it, pause before you decide what the resistance means. Ask a more honest question. Is this hard because it is wrong for me, or is it just hard to get to?
Those are not the same thing. And the only way to know the difference is to get yourself into the room and pay attention to how you feel once you are there.
The question I want to leave you with: What is one thing you have been quietly deciding is not for you, when the truth might be that it is simply hard to reach?
This Issue's Focus
I am keeping The Focus Journal in front of you again this issue, and on purpose.
So much of what I just described comes down to focus. Not motivation, not more information, not a better morning routine. The ability to quiet the noise long enough to get yourself into the room. That is exactly what this journal is built to support.
It is a 14-day guided journaling experience for the seasons when you know what matters and still keep circling it instead of doing it. Fifteen to twenty-five minutes a day. A simple, grounding framework you can return to whenever life pulls you off center.
If that is the season you are in, it is $17 and you can find it here.
One more thing before I go. I have been building something for this summer, and it is almost ready. I am not going to say much yet. Just that if any of this has been landing with you, you will want to be on this list in July. More soon.
With you on the journey,
Jennifer
Keep flourishing fiercely.