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Bright, Shiny Excuse or Opportunity to Explore Wisdom?

We all have our “bright shiny things.” For an entrepreneur, it’s a new idea. For a coach, it’s someone with a problem. I’m both. I see LOTS of bright shiny objects. Two things that are nearly irresistible to me -  “hey, can I run this idea past you?” and “I don’t know what to do, got a second?” In any given day I hear one or both of those questions at least once. My knee jerk response is “SURE!” You know where this is going, right? If I allowed myself to follow through on that knee jerk response every time I’d have a lot of clients (and prospective clients) calling me a jerk because I wouldn’t be taking care of THEIR needs. So when I get that knee jerk urge, I try to kick myself back into high gear on the work front. Today I allowed myself to be sidetracked by private messages from someone in my “sandbox” of speakers, coaches, writers, etc… who was very traumatized by the choice of one of her friends. My instincts kicked in, I grabbed that bright shiny object and began trying to piece it together. To add to my coaches’ natural temptation to coach, the situation touched my heart and a couple of old sore spots. I “couldn’t” leave it alone. It wasn’t like this person really NEEDED me. She has other friends who are closer to the situation, better able to speak to her distress, better suited to offer comfort and perspective. It was my OWN need that moved me to respond. Interestingly enough, as I began to chide myself for giving my...
Sometimes You’re the Dragon, Sometimes You’re the Bug

Sometimes You’re the Dragon, Sometimes You’re the Bug

Yesterday I rescued a dragon in distress. Or maybe it was a damsel. In truth, it was most likely a dragonFLY or a damselFLY. But it was most definitely in distress. I had let my dog out into the garden for her usual morning ramble. She’d given fair warning to all the birds, sniffed the newly opened flowers, taken care of “business” and demanded to be let back into “her” house. And right on her tail (almost literally) flew this confused creature. I left the door open. I tried to shoo it back toward freedom. But the silly thing decided that the window NEXT to the door offered the best chance at escape and began to beat its fragile wings against the screen. Now I am fond of dragons (my dog is even dubbed “The Dragon Dog”) and count a fair number of damsels among my friends. So I wasn’t concerned with WHICH kind of winged beauty was dying to escape from my kitchen, I just wanted to help. Of course, my attempts to distract it from its escape plan and offer an alternative exit route only panicked the poor thing. And I realized, to this tiny, beautiful creature I am the dragon! Not counting the gossamer wings, this thing was no bigger than my finger. My entire hand must have looked like a moving mountain. What little brains it had were all in “OH SHOOT” mode. (Dragons and damsels don’t use “bad” language, I’m told.) I won’t keep you in suspense. The story ends happily. At last, exhausted and possibly encouraged that the mountain hadn’t yet toppled onto...