Invincible: On Audacity, Big Magic and Being a Happily Flawed Badass

I think Elizabeth Gilbert and Jen Sincero are changing my (literal) dreams.

Take last night. I had the best dream.

(Ugh, yeah, I know Not a fan of dream stories either. #sorrynotsorry.)

Why so great, you ask? (of course you do. I’m making up both sides of this conversation)

What was great was that this dream was the opposite of the Actor’s Nightmare. We’ve all had these – could take different forms depending on what you do for a living – but the doubt is the same: you feel inadequate, unprepared, and  expected to deliver.

For actors, it takes place onstage:, when (a) no one told you you had the part til now (b) you don’t know your lines because it isn’t your fault no one gave you a script!!! or (c) you’re naked.

In this dream, though. I felt invincible. What a nice change. I did not want to wake up.

In this dream, I was not perfect, not at all. Just me. And I felt like I belonged, no matter what. And I wanted to keep that feeling, to stay this confident and invincible, during my waking hours.

(Liz Gilbert, in her book, Big Magic, refers to this as a poet’s term: “the arrogance of belonging.”)

The plot was sort of like this: I’d thought I was meant to be at a tryout for a track team. Me, with 4 hip surgeries behind me and one leg weaker than the other (from nerve damage during one surgery). I cannot run. Literally. But I went anyway. To the track team tryout.

Because, why not?

Just to see what was up.

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#TrumpPanic? Five Reasons to Choose Hope Instead

(Author’s note, 2021 — I wrote this over four years ago, trying to find the silver lining. I was wrong about Trump. He did not rise to the job. But I stand by my right to have held onto hope, and still do. -Randye, 2/27/21)

. pollyannaI am not a Pollyanna.

Well, maybe a little bit.

But, two days after the Election, I’m tired of feeling my stomach in knots over something I can no longer control. I’m tired of anger. And I’m sick of literally losing sleep over the reality of Donald Trump as President.

So I am choosing to hope. I am choosing love. And I’m surprised at how many people are trying to talk me out of it.

Maybe you are celebrating Trump’s election this week. Maybe, like me, you are in one of the first four stages of grief: Denial (“this can’t be real!”) Anger  (“It’s not fair! Who is to blame?”), Bargaining (“Is this bad news reversible?”) , Depression – (“I’m so sad, why bother with anything?”)  

But, sooner or later, we’re all going to have to get to a (guarded, realistic) stage 5: Acceptance – (“It’s going to be okay.”; “I can’t fight it, I may as well prepare for it.”)

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