I was eight when I decided I would have to have a scholarship to go to college. I think I was born with the desire for higher education, but 2nd grade was when I realized Mom and Dad wouldn’t be paying for it. Don’t ask. I probably knew too much as a child.
Regardless, in my world it was truth. I wanted to go to college (I’m an education junkie) and I knew I’d have to be the one to put me there.
And since “being smart” was all I felt I had going for me at the time, I decided the only way to get my scholarship was through good grades and a healthy dose of extracurricular activities. This translated into straight A’s that began the second semester of 2nd grade and lasted all the way through high school graduation.
Yep. That’s a 4.0 for ten and a half school years.
I began looking for extracurricular options shortly after that, starting my stint in various volunteer programs as early as 4th grade.
I even convinced my elementary school principal to list an in-school suspension (for fighting… a story for another day) as “community service” on my official record if I collected trash as punishment instead of sitting in the office.
(Looking back I’m sure she was laughing on the inside as I explained that I couldn’t afford for this one-and-only-ever-fist-fight to ruin my chances at a scholarship! I’m grateful she didn’t laugh out loud, though I wish someone would have told me that “my record” didn’t count until high school. Le sigh.)
Over the next decade, I developed some good work habits and even better ulcers.
I kept my grades up, added more activities and experiences to my roster, and graduated Valedictorian of my class with the Presidential Merit (full-ride) Scholarship at a local university.
But this story really isn’t about me. It’s about you.
Yep. You heard me right.
The stories we tell ourselves about our life now and in the future are powerful. They are a prophecy of the self-fulfilling kind. Whatever story we write for ourselves is the story that will come true.
At eight years old, I wrote the story of a girl with awesome grades who grows up to get a full-ride scholarship to college and, if I was really, really lucky, to be Valedictorian of her graduating class.
I wrote that story in everything I did and every choice I made.
I claimed it. I visualized it. Hell! I practically tasted it. And then I took action to get it.
Do you feel that way about your sacred creation? About your freedom and your future? That you want it so badly that to give it up would be to give up air?
Yet you keep putting it off until “someday”—that special day when you think all the pieces will fall into place so you can finally have what you’ve always wanted.
Stop waiting; start creating.
Write your story.
Without even knowing how, my 8-year-old self did it! I lost my way for a decade or so in my 20s (I just couldn’t believe my younger self could be smarter than my new, grown-up self), but 30-something Me has reclaimed the gift.
And now, I’m living my dreams again. Every day I get to follow my passions as I support amazing sacred rebels to reach for their stars. I get to immerse myself in soul songs that make my own heart sing. I get to travel the world and work from anywhere. (Hello Hawaii!)
Every day fall in love with myself and my life all over again.
You have that power too.
Pick a desire and tell yourself what it will look like, smell like, taste like, be like to have/touch/experience whatever it is. It can be a list or a bunch of paragraphs. You can even draw it for crying out loud!
Whatever helps you to see yourself living your dream.
And then take action. Action activates the dream.
You are too powerful to play it small.
So, Sacred Rebel… what will your story be?
Loves & hugs,