Goals don’t matter

In the beginning of 2017, I had big goals. I was going to achieve those goals, be very happy and be a huge success.

ZERO of the goals took place.

And I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.

***

I wanted to be an author when I was young.

In my 20s, I compromised by being a killer journalist. In my 30s, I wrote a book about how to write, and a novella. I blogged 1,000 words or more every day. I wrote other people’s copy.

I was proud of my writing. I put in my 10,000 hours (probably more like 10,000 hours). I sold many books and hundreds of thousands of people had read me in one form or other.

So…2017 goal: books. Plural.

“I’m going to write a bestseller this year.”

Yet I didn’t write it.

I didn’t even start it.

***

I wanted to create a podcast.

I reached out to successful entrepreneurs with the techniques to do such things, spoke with the right support staff who would keep it humming along.

And did nothing with all that information.

I failed again.

***

One-year plans don’t work.

Plans don’t work.

Because goals don’t work.

***

I thought I would continue coaching women in business on how to amp up the money-making.

I thought I would expand into more systems and techniques.

I thought I would curate an empire.

But by the end of 2017, I didn’t want any of that.

And it was probably the best year yet.

The key to my happiness? No goals.

***

Somewhere between June and November 2017, life came into sharp focus.

Goals felt hard. They felt like push and hustle and strive and do, do, do, more and more and more. And I was damn tired.

But belief in myself, my essence – trusting my inner calling and purpose – no matter where it wanted to lead, became something I couldn’t NOT do. Goals be damned.

Turns out faith in self is magic. Life is amazing.

***

I shifted overnight from strategy and sales and money, to purpose and passion and self-belief.

I mentored women who had burning desires a full 180 degrees from where they were, but who felt that same undeniable call I felt.

I came up with new writing ideas by going inside and trusting myself. And the book is almost done.

For 2018, I didn’t craft any goals. But I continued to trust and nurture myself. (The hustle will kill you.)

Here are my non-negotiables:

A) Be healthy. Eat well, sleep well, move well. Taking care of your body allows you to physically pursue your passion and purpose, sans the bullshit hustle and grind. It feels amazing, allowing you to release more and inspire more.

B) Invest in relationships. Say no to people and relationships that feel gross. Only invest time and love into people who value me as much as I value them.

Do the people in your life give you energy or drain it?

I only spend time with the people who give me energy, and I am ruthless about it.

C) Be creative.

Am I creative every day?

I write every day. I contribute to my YouTube channel. I invented 60 Seconds to Success.

I love writing more than anything. But my process now is simply to be creative, to exercise that muscle, reconnect with my purpose and unleash what needs to come out.

And part of creativity is learning every day. Being curious every day. Being unafraid every day.

D) Remember my spirituality.

This happened at the end of 2017.

After 10 years of Catholic school, which required daily Mass and college courses on religion, I moved straight to looking down on prayer. Avoiding conversations about God, systematized religion, condemnation and the like.

I didn’t become enamored with meditation either. Which many Westerners do. Instead, I hung out in nothingness and connected with the Universe.

It evolved into a spiritual practice. Call it Universe, God, Buddha, whatever. The label is irrelevant. The connection is what matters.

When I go inward, I get back to me and my purpose, which ultimately is a tiny sliver of whatever you believe created us. It means surrendering to whatever force is up there, more powerful than us, and trusting.

It helps me disconnect from my ego’s need to hustle and push and power through. Then I remember why I am here. Which always feels a whole lot better than going after more money, more fame, more bullshit.

***

On January 1, 2017, I had no idea what I would learn on January 2 or January 3 or January 4…

But if I learn every day, my goals constantly change. Because I know and understand more than the day before.

And goals SHOULD change with more knowledge.

So here’s my daily non-goal: physical, mental, emotional and spiritual wellness.

Goals based on what my ego wants actually block me from those four things. They also prevent me from tapping back into my purpose.

Goals assume I know more than the Universe. Which is asinine.

And that’s why trust and surrender get me further, faster, than any amount of hustling.

***

Here’s what my days looks like now…

Go with it.

Keep my energy and creativity and relationships as positive as possible.

Release what needs to come out.

Trust.

Will that make me a shitload of money, success, love and joy?

Maybe.

Maybe not.

But I love how it feels.

P.S. Your life’s work is something you are made of. You came here with it. If you want off the treadmill too, we should talk.

Your only job on this planet is to remove every block and limit you may have that interferes with who you are, so you are free to fulfill your purpose.

I am passionate about what I do because I know how easy this is, and how hard we make it when we don’t have the tools to catch it and shift.

Right now, I am offering two ways to work with me:

  1.  Virtual Retreat, limited to three women, on July 18-19 – all you need is an internet connection
  2.  In-Person Retreat at my home in New Hampshire, on Sept. 1-2, limited to three women (only two slots left).

Are you ready for expert guidance from someone who has been there and can help you walk the path? Do you want to stop the spinning thoughts, feeling as though your dream is too big, you don’t know how?

Apply for either event here.

Here’s your invitation to change everything.

Find a Penny…

…pick it up, and all day long, you’ll have good luck.

My grandmother used to say that. I found pennies everywhere after she died. Little cosmic waves.

***

One of the tools I teach, and use when I’m feeling down or in a bad mood, is to find uplifting videos. Go straight to YouTube and seek athletes performing unbelievable feats or auditions from The Voice or American Idol. Sometimes I’ll watch Leo Messi defy belief with the soccer ball for hours.

Anything that depicts people overcoming odds, pushing through their fear, embracing their own humanity and sharing their gifts is powerful medicine. Your vibe shifts in an instant.

And so it was last winter, when I was depressed and sick and worried, that I found myself on YouTube again looking for something to shake off the cloud. It was about 4 p.m., a dank December afternoon in New Hampshire. I was in the middle Richard and Adam blowing minds with Impossible Dream, when I noticed something on the side of the screen.

YouTube suggested I take a look at something called “Secretariat. Heart of a Champion.”

Heart? Of a champion? I was in.

I dislike horse racing. But I love horses.

I had no idea that a 14 minute and 57 second video would change my life.

Secretariat is, was and always will be the greatest horse to grace this planet. No discussion necessary.

But his owner, Penny Chenery, THAT was a story to latch onto.

A 46-year-old housewife from Colorado saved the family’s Virginia farm, got her father a Derby Winner, and went on to bring the world it’s first Triple Crown Winner in a quarter century – stealing the hearts of the nation while she was at it. A woman in what was very much a man’s world in the late 1960s and early 1970s, doing what she knew was possible – even if no one else could see it.

I stayed up late that night, hopping from video to video, diving deeper and deeper into Secretariat, the circumstances of his birth and life, his picture on the cover of Time, Sports Illustrated and Newsweek.

I watched hours upon hours of ESPN documentaries and race clips. I got lost in the rabbit hole that is Google, soaking up every article, blog post and book title I could find. Every feather of information I could clasp about Penny herself, her upbringing, her character.

Find a Penny, pick it up, and all day long, you’ll have good luck.

***

I’ve been a mentor and coach for a decade, and a writer my whole life. Many years ago, I decided my legacy was singular: I want my children to say, “My mom showed me what was possible.”

In 2015, I made a million dollars in 7 months running my own business, helping other women help themselves. It grew from there.

But I also suffered from crippling anxiety and imposter syndrome.

Money is an amplifier.

If you have little self-worth, you don’t magically feel better about who you are when you make a lot of money. Instead, you may feel unworthy of what you have received – despite working your ass off for it – and probably certain you’re going to be found out as a fraud.

For me, it was a pervasive feeling that grew stronger and heavier with every dollar I made, every thank you letter I received, every like or comment on Facebook.

On the days when I sank fast, I reminded myself of the legacy I wanted to leave. I wasn’t just doing this for myself. My boys deserved a mother who went for it. Who did not shy away from fear. Who had the conviction that her vision would be brought to life, no matter what.

I’ve known for many years that my purpose is to show women what they are capable of. Full stop. My only job in life to remind them of how powerful they are.

But who do you seek when you forget your ability? When you buy into the lies the mind tells about your worth?

The ones who came before you.

There’s nothing I or you can feel or be part of that someone hasn’t already felt or experienced.

So here’s the process: Find the people your age, with similar circumstances, who did it already. Who decided they were all in? Who set fire to their limits and other people’s rules? Who bought into THEMSELVES?

I’m 45. I want to see women my age doing shit no one can believe.

And there was Penny Chenery.

“…She came into a man’s world and beat the man.” – Charlie Davis, Secretariat’s exercise rider.

Women did things like that? I had no excuses. In fact, it was my responsibility to dig deeper, figure out which bullshit beliefs I was allowing to run my life. Because if I didn’t, I wasn’t going to fulfill my purpose nor leave my children any legacy at all.

Find a Penny, pick it up, and all day long, you’ll have good luck.

***

I’m an animal lover. I have a farm. I rescue horses from slaughter and have far too many dogs and cats. I can absolutely get behind a woman – any woman – interested in animal welfare and defying odds.

Almost every free moment I’ve had since I first found that fateful video has been dedicated to researching Penny, the horse, the farm, the groom, the exercise rider. I can pretty much repeat verbatim the entire call for the record-breaking 1973 Belmont Stakes race.

“Secretariat is widening now. He is moving like a tremendous machine. Secretariat by 12. Secretariat by 14 lengths on the turn…. He’s out there almost a 16th of a mile away from the rest of the horses. Secretariat is in a position that is impossible to catch.”

So it was one for the ages. And that marvelous woman in the stands, arms stretched high and waving to the cameras and the fans, took her position as First Lady of racing. There was much, much more Penny would do for the industry and for thoroughbreds during the next 44 years. Too much to recount here.

She died in September last year at 95, less than three months before I learned of her.

Bill Nack, a storyteller and journalist who chronicled Secretariat and Penny’s journey, said it best: “Some things are a long time ending, and for some they may never end at all.”

***

I believe we are shown exactly what we need at the exact right moment. There are no accidents or coincidences.

I believe we are capable of far more than we ever let ourselves imagine.

I believe something out there in the ether wants you to win at life. And all you have to do is find your Penny.

They bring good luck.