The Secrets of My Success

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I run a successful business.

I guess.

I mean, I make enough money with my art that I don’t have to have a “straight job.” I have every imaginable modern convenience and privilege. A couple pairs of my shoes have holes in them. I still wear them. But they are not my only shoes.

I am successful.

Tonight I had marinara sauce right out of the jar and hibiscus kombucha for dinner. I get food stamps. I give about $5/week to the girl who looks like she’s on meth in front of the health food store. Yesterday, I touched her hand.

I am successful.

I am most often confounded by people not behaving the way I think they should. Forgiveness is a muscle. Or as Lily Tomlin put it, it’s “giving up all hope for a better past.” I have forgiven my father for his brutal narcissism. My mother for dying and leaving us with him. I understand that all relationships are assignments.

I am successful.

I perceive a grid, like Indra’s Net, that is a blueprint which holds all the files of my soul’s code. Sometimes I get downloads when I least expect it. Song titles, information products, logos, projects and services for clients, random shit like glitter tattoos, glam rain gear and cats that fetch pizza. I have long antennae, I pick up weird frequencies. But I know how to focus.

I am successful.

When I fear for the finite resources of the planet, I am reminded that Source is infinite. I understand the constant, often negative chatter in my head is like my heartbeat or my respiratory system — it just runs. I don’t actually have to believe any of it or even pay attention to it, it is not the essence of who I am. I don’t try to control my thoughts much anymore; I try to control my behavior. It’s funny: when I behave in ways that consistently support how I want to feel, my thoughts change.

I am successful.

I have often left straight jobs ungracefully, having been fired or having stormed out because I was dedicated to the struggle. Because “they needed me.”  Because the system needed changing. Once I left environments that kept me constantly triggered (the public school system, struggling non-profits), the grid started to fill in. I gave up 90% of my material possessions except the tools and gear to make my art. I stopped fighting and I went where there were other people doing what I wanted to do. I spent every possible moment focusing on my creative work, and on the methods to manage my anxiety in the face of uncertainty.

The question I ask myself is less and less: Is this good enough? And more and more, Am I having a soulful moment?

I am successful.


The Declaration of You will be published by North Light Craft Books this summer, with readers getting all the permission they’ve craved to step passionately into their lives, discover how they and their gifts are unique and uncover what they are meant to do! This post is part of The Declaration of You’s BlogLovin’ Tour, which I’m thrilled to participate in alongside over 100 other creative bloggers. Learn more — and join us! — by clicking here.