Last week, my parents came to visit me in Boston — to support me as I continue to swim uphill. I’m so grateful to have such a supportive family — regardless of distance, we are there for each other, whenever — wherever. And lately, it’s been me needing the most support. And they have stuck by me, giving me strength and wisdom to keep pushing forward in whatever direction I feel is best — no pressure, just love and encouragement to follow my heart. That is priceless. My parents are filled with so much wisdom that a mere few minutes with them is enough food for thought for months. But last week, I was nervous about taking a big step — putting myself forward for criticism and rejection. And I felt alone — like I was the only person to ever feel like this, especially strange for someone who tends to reach towards these situations that make me feel very vulnerable. I used to be stronger (or maybe naive?) — to feel completely confidently in all that I did, to know that I was giving all that I could give and that was enough. But the bar has been moved higher and what I’m giving, even if that is 200%, is often not enough. So it’s becoming harder to keep pushing forward, to think that maybe next time, enough will truly be enough? It’s hard to trust and believe that I am worthy and good enough — all of the work I’ve put into worthiness, authenticity, vulnerability is being tested BIG TIME!
Now back to this wisdom from my dad via Steven Spielberg. My dad shared with me a poster that Steven Spielberg keeps in his office (possibly the only poster in his office). And it was a huge eye opener for me. We are all scared — truly frightened — before we put ourselves out there, even if we’ve done it 1,000 times before.
“Boy on a High Dive” is usually in Spielberg’s office.
When asked if it were his favorite Rockwell painting, Spielberg said, “Well, let’s put it this way: This is the Rockwell that, every time I’m ready to make a movie, every time I’m ready to commit to direct a movie, that’s me – that’s the feeling in my gut, before I say ‘yes’ to a picture. Because every movie is like looking off a three-meter diving board, every one.”
Do you feel like you are constantly on a high dive, being tested? If so, how do you persevere? How do you know (and trust) that when you jump, you will land safely — especially if you haven’t landed safely in the past? The high dive is set — it’s not moving — so how do you approach the dive differently time after time? How do you maintain faith and optimism that this dive may be different from previous dives? Or if you’re like me, do you find it difficult to maintain that optimism after a multitude of previous failed attempts?
So I asked my dad this question. I told him that I’m good at diving, I’m a great diver BUT I’ve been falling on my head even after my greatest attempts. And so he said, well you have to check to see if there is water in the pool before jumping. Simple, right. I brushed this comment off. But it makes sense. We get consumed with where we are, what we are doing – on the fear of the dive, that we forget to see the big picture — to see things like, am I setting myself up to fail (i.e., jumping into an empty pool)? When you take a scary leap, it feels like you are alone, but in reality, the support (e.g., the support of water — or family, or mentors, or resources, etc.) that you receive after you jump is critical to the success of that jump. It’s important to realize that while the jump is scary, you can cushion the fall.
Case in Point: When I take a big leap and don’t prepare for after that leap, I crumble. I’m overwhelmed with the emotion of the leap itself and haven’t prepared support for after the leap. So whether the outcome is good or bad, I typically end up totally isolating myself and having a mini (or major) meltdown. I isolate myself and lose perspective, underestimating the importance of creating a safety net for either outcome. The focus must shift from “taking the leap” to “taking the leap and creating a post-leap action plan.” And that shift is tough because merely thinking about the leap itself is somewhat paralyzing, but could this paralysis be in part due to our all-or-nothing focus?
Image and Quote: CBS News via my dad
I received an email yesterday from someone who had recently read my book, 
