In case you are wondering how I made out in The Next Top Spiritual Author competition, well at the writing of this page, the jury is still out. There are 10 days left before the semi-final 25 authors are announced. The first round was a whirlwind of insecure activity. Over 2800 authors had to show their marketing stuff and motivate their base to vote for their book pitch. The pitch would be a 2-5 minute audio or video clip that would be listened or viewed through the competition’s website along with a book description. The top 10% of vote getters would advance to Round 2. I had a three-day late beginning since we were getting back from a vacation in Mexico when the starting bell rang. First order of business, connect with my friends. You would think in the age of facebook, twitter, and linkedIn, this would be an easy task. I sent an email to my contact list of about 250 friends and received three responses. Uh-oh.
I posted the audio pitch the first day you could. I just felt moved to do it right away. I told my daughters that daddy needed complete quiet for 10 minutes while I dialed a number provided by the competition and recorded my pitch. This was the first action I took that felt inspired. “You have the energy, the passion coursing through your veins. Why wait? Just do it.” So I did.
The second was creating a facebook page. I did not look to see if anyone had one going yet. I figured many must have since it was three days into the competition. I hear a small voice:
“Call it The Next Top Author”
“Okay.” It wasn’t taken yet. It was mine.
“Use a book cover with The Superman Effect instead of a profile picture of you.”
“Really? Alright, if you say so.”
So I created a facebook page called The Next Top Author and invited all my friends to join. A whopping two fans joined the page. Time for my first freak-out moment. “What have I done?” I felt immediate guilt since I am not the best at keeping in touch with my friends. Now I need them and it serves me right that they are ignoring me. I decided to focus on those that were supporting me instead of those that were MIA. A friend had taken it upon herself to create a flier and I went and plastered it all over North Denver. Another friend put a notice on the University that I had resigned my position’s intranet about me in the competition. She astutely left out the part about being a previous employee, and instead advertised “University alum Dennis Rodriguez is in The Next Top Spiritual Author Competition.” I called my three sisters and cried “HELP”. They came to the rescue. My sisters invited all their friends to join my facebook page. I’m up to 10 fans! I asked my invisible friends the question: How can I get more fans to join my page? People won’t join a page with 10 fans. I need to break the ice, get the ball rolling and any other figure of speech that will get me more fans.
“You need a facebook connector.”
“Yes! I need a facebook connector.”
I called my 15 year old nephew.
“How many of your classmates are on facebook?
“All of them.”
Can you get 20 friends to join my page?
“No problem.”
He came through and it got easier.
I started sending out emails from my yahoo account. “Just do it. It won’t be pretty yet, but there is plenty of time for pretty.” So I just did it.
So I did not do any “shoulds.” I did not concern myself with having a perfect audio or video pitch, a flashy book cover or snazzy emails. I just did what felt right not what I thought would look right. My wife and I did hit the road to pass out fliers and garner votes. Campaigning felt really good.
I was scheduled to attend an introductory Hakomi workshop in Boulder the weekend before the round 2 authors were to be announced. At the last minute my intuition told me to drop that plan and go to Boulder to write my book proposal instead. I spent 2 days in a hotel room. “Mr. Rodriguez. We have noticed that you have had a Do Not Disturb sign on your door for two days. Is everything alright?”
“Oh yes. I’m a writer, you see.” That also felt good.
Even with amateur looking marketing, I was informed that I had received enough votes to advance to the second round. I would be one of 271 authors submitting a book proposal for public voting and selection by a panel of experts.
When the time was right, an email came across my iphone and at the bottom it said “try Constant Contact for 30 days free” so I clicked on the link and within one hour I had created my first professional looking email with images and links. No problem. No forethought. No stress. Inspired action. I had an atrocious looking book cover for four weeks made from a word document. I finally thought, the time has come to get a better one. I called my best friend who is an illustrator and he created a beautiful book cover. No fuss. No muss. Inspired action.
We were encouraged to add a give back feature in round 1 so that voters can make themselves known to the author. I didn’t do it until the time came when I did in Round 2. I believe Round 2 has gone well. I have heard from many who have voted and I will hold a drawing for 12 free intuitive life coaching sessions right after Round 2 is announced. Stay tuned for the breaking news.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
I think I’m on to Something!
I think I’m on to something. A new way of moving through life in which I am no longer the servant of two masters- guilt and judgment. In many ways, these past four months have been an internal purgatory of my own making. Purgatory’s location: I feel bad about feeling bad. Should I be doing all I can to make more money? Should I invest in a better website with not just bells and whistles but gongs and trumpets that will increase my mailing lists from 300 to 300,000, my facebook page from 400 to 4 million? I still hear that peaceful voice whispering “there is another way- the path of inspired action.” The voice is not saying to me “don’t push yourself beyond your comfort zone, but enjoy the climb. Be okay with the pain, the struggle. Struggling with the struggle just makes it more painful. Being okay with what is begins to turn the tide.
Gandhi had said when he decided to call off a march that was headed to violence: “My commitment is to truth, not to consistency.” It is very likely that tomorrow I will be in push mode. I might feel guilty about being home with my two girls on a weekday to save on babysitting and pop in a kid’s movie while I get on the computer to feel productive. I will then, perhaps be reminded that there is another way. Perhaps. Yet I also hear the megaphonic voices of this age, insisting “there is only one way.”
I called my friend who I had not seen in a long time-
“How are you” I asked
“Staying busy man. Staying busy.”
I spent this morning having coffee and going for a walk with another good friend of mine who lost her husband to cancer last year. She has just a few days ago been reminded there is another way.
Running By Malanie Mclanahan
I used to run, run, run. I'd calculate exactly how long it would take me to get from home to the hospital to be there by my promised time. I'd figure out how many errands I could fit in on my way home from the hospital. I used to know that if we got up at 7am, took showers, flushed and hooked up his IV, got dressed, and made breakfast I could get to work by my first appointment. I used to run around the house on those emergency room days or nights, packing a bag, calling the doctor, the parents, the neighbors, exchanging oxygen tanks and then out the door to the ER where running would cease and we would have to wait, wait, wait. I ran in and out of the hospital room asking for more medication, more sheets, more kleenex. Some days or nights I ran myself ragged.
I used to run, before. Before the pain medication ran continuously through his veins. Before the chemo ran through his system to kill the cancer. I ran in a different way-as a half to a functioning, healthy whole. I ran every morning at 5am with Chester at my side. I ran out the door to get to work. I ran home to make dinner so it was ready for both of us after our long days. I ran errands, credit cards, and through the streets of Paris, San Francisco and Seattle. He ran, too. To work, home, and through those same streets with me, hand in hand. He ran a race with time. He ran side by side with courage. But then he couldn't run anymore and I had to run for two.
I am no longer running. But it is like being on a treadmill. I can't go from 15MPH at an incline and hit the stop button. It's a gradual process-to slow down, watch the heart rate drop, hear the breathing slow to a regular pace, walk. When I was running, the scenery was a blur. I focused on the Ipod music, whatever would help me persevere the running strain. Interactions became the hands on a clock. While walking, however, I have discovered that the scenery is actually very enjoyable. I can feel what makes a deep breath so exhilarating. Interactions have ceased and friendships and love instead have blossomed. I think I prefer the walking path, for now, knowing that I will never foresee the time when running might be necessary.
Gandhi had said when he decided to call off a march that was headed to violence: “My commitment is to truth, not to consistency.” It is very likely that tomorrow I will be in push mode. I might feel guilty about being home with my two girls on a weekday to save on babysitting and pop in a kid’s movie while I get on the computer to feel productive. I will then, perhaps be reminded that there is another way. Perhaps. Yet I also hear the megaphonic voices of this age, insisting “there is only one way.”
I called my friend who I had not seen in a long time-
“How are you” I asked
“Staying busy man. Staying busy.”
I spent this morning having coffee and going for a walk with another good friend of mine who lost her husband to cancer last year. She has just a few days ago been reminded there is another way.
Running By Malanie Mclanahan
I used to run, run, run. I'd calculate exactly how long it would take me to get from home to the hospital to be there by my promised time. I'd figure out how many errands I could fit in on my way home from the hospital. I used to know that if we got up at 7am, took showers, flushed and hooked up his IV, got dressed, and made breakfast I could get to work by my first appointment. I used to run around the house on those emergency room days or nights, packing a bag, calling the doctor, the parents, the neighbors, exchanging oxygen tanks and then out the door to the ER where running would cease and we would have to wait, wait, wait. I ran in and out of the hospital room asking for more medication, more sheets, more kleenex. Some days or nights I ran myself ragged.
I used to run, before. Before the pain medication ran continuously through his veins. Before the chemo ran through his system to kill the cancer. I ran in a different way-as a half to a functioning, healthy whole. I ran every morning at 5am with Chester at my side. I ran out the door to get to work. I ran home to make dinner so it was ready for both of us after our long days. I ran errands, credit cards, and through the streets of Paris, San Francisco and Seattle. He ran, too. To work, home, and through those same streets with me, hand in hand. He ran a race with time. He ran side by side with courage. But then he couldn't run anymore and I had to run for two.
I am no longer running. But it is like being on a treadmill. I can't go from 15MPH at an incline and hit the stop button. It's a gradual process-to slow down, watch the heart rate drop, hear the breathing slow to a regular pace, walk. When I was running, the scenery was a blur. I focused on the Ipod music, whatever would help me persevere the running strain. Interactions became the hands on a clock. While walking, however, I have discovered that the scenery is actually very enjoyable. I can feel what makes a deep breath so exhilarating. Interactions have ceased and friendships and love instead have blossomed. I think I prefer the walking path, for now, knowing that I will never foresee the time when running might be necessary.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Why haven’t I written for the past four months?
Why haven’t I written for the past four months? Is it because I’m not really an author? Am I a one hit wonder? I wrote for 80-days straight and then nothing, zilch, nada tostada. So what happened? I felt great when I was writing every day, so why did I stop?
A week after I completed part II of The Superman Effect, an opportunity to have my book published presented itself. Did it ever!
"Are you the Next Top Spiritual Author? Click Here for more details
Was it pure coincidence? After going through countless serendipitous happenings, witnessing so many magic moments, trusting that all is perfect and seeing my new life arranging itself exactly as I had envisioned, it’s a bit of a stretch to believe in coincidences. Well I entered the competition the day I received the invitation. No fear in the registration moment. It was one of a few inspired actions that would carry me to today. I say a few because the past four months have been full of empty space and then a few perfectly timed actions. The juice of life resides amidst a sea of inactivity or worse, activity that is uninspired. “I’m supposed to be busy so I’ll pack my day with stuff to do”. I took a different approach to the past four months. I let it be. If I did not feel inspired to act, I did nothing. I did not feel like writing even though I had quit my job to become a writer so I did not write. I did not feel ready to promote my life coaching business so I took classes instead. I would tell myself that I am doing inner work. Did that feel good? Not at all. I’m supposed to be going gangbusters, pushing through my inertia and making money. Yet, my intuition was tugging at me to learn a deeper lesson: Can I sit with inactivity without judgment? Can I wrestle with my resistance to be still until I felt the freedom that comes from winning the battle? Can I truly trust that, as an old song from the musical Pippin says “Everything has its seasons, everything has its time.”? I will have the energy to take appropriate action when the time is right. So I took long walks, then felt bad about it. I met up with old friends for lunch, then rushed to listen to an audio about making things happen. Constant guilt, then acceptance, then more guilt and more acceptance.
I do not know if I will win the competition. What I do know is that these past four months have taught me more about letting go than any other period in my life. The desire to do more, be more, achieve more is subsiding. Divine purpose and surrender is taking its place. I am opening my heart and now, after four months, I am ready to write about what’s inside.
No other agenda but to open my heart more and more. I may never be published but I guarantee you that I will feel fulfilled. My new desire: To open my heart without judgment. Feel you tomorrow!
A week after I completed part II of The Superman Effect, an opportunity to have my book published presented itself. Did it ever!
"Are you the Next Top Spiritual Author? Click Here for more details
Was it pure coincidence? After going through countless serendipitous happenings, witnessing so many magic moments, trusting that all is perfect and seeing my new life arranging itself exactly as I had envisioned, it’s a bit of a stretch to believe in coincidences. Well I entered the competition the day I received the invitation. No fear in the registration moment. It was one of a few inspired actions that would carry me to today. I say a few because the past four months have been full of empty space and then a few perfectly timed actions. The juice of life resides amidst a sea of inactivity or worse, activity that is uninspired. “I’m supposed to be busy so I’ll pack my day with stuff to do”. I took a different approach to the past four months. I let it be. If I did not feel inspired to act, I did nothing. I did not feel like writing even though I had quit my job to become a writer so I did not write. I did not feel ready to promote my life coaching business so I took classes instead. I would tell myself that I am doing inner work. Did that feel good? Not at all. I’m supposed to be going gangbusters, pushing through my inertia and making money. Yet, my intuition was tugging at me to learn a deeper lesson: Can I sit with inactivity without judgment? Can I wrestle with my resistance to be still until I felt the freedom that comes from winning the battle? Can I truly trust that, as an old song from the musical Pippin says “Everything has its seasons, everything has its time.”? I will have the energy to take appropriate action when the time is right. So I took long walks, then felt bad about it. I met up with old friends for lunch, then rushed to listen to an audio about making things happen. Constant guilt, then acceptance, then more guilt and more acceptance.
I do not know if I will win the competition. What I do know is that these past four months have taught me more about letting go than any other period in my life. The desire to do more, be more, achieve more is subsiding. Divine purpose and surrender is taking its place. I am opening my heart and now, after four months, I am ready to write about what’s inside.
No other agenda but to open my heart more and more. I may never be published but I guarantee you that I will feel fulfilled. My new desire: To open my heart without judgment. Feel you tomorrow!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)