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Note: Before I dive into this long and embarrassing story, wanted to remind you that the 72 hour sale where you can purchase over $1,000 of products from the heavy hitters in personal development, for only $97, is ending in less than two hours…at 12pm EST (Thursday, June 23rd.) Click here to go pick it up now if you had wanted one.

You know what really sucks?

When you pack your toothpaste in your luggage, later to find that it has squirted all over your $300 sequined cocktail dress. Bad day comin’ at ya, right there.

You know what else really sucks?

When you crack an egg into a pan, trying to be all chef-like, and the yolk breaks. Like, really yolk? Really? You’re going to do this to me at 7am?

Or how about those idiots checking out at the supermarket, who just have to “run back for one thing.” I mean, what if I was on my way to find the cure for cancer? Hurry it the fuck up, lady.

However. *pops collar*

I may have had the mother of all things-that-suck happen to me the other day. And no, this has nothing to do with business, but since it’s my blog, I’m going to write about it anyway na na na na na.

I mean, tomorrow’s my birthday, so I can do whatever I want, right?

So here it goes. I promise you will laugh. Or at least nearly choke on your coffee, which is always a good time.

I, Ashley Ambirge, met a Colombian.

Not just any Colombian, but a Justin Timberlake look alike Colombian. A Colombian that I found extremely attractive. A Colombian I wanted to….get to know better.

When he kissed me for the first time, I nearly lost my balance. Granted, I was wearing platform heels, but I prefer to believe that his charisma outweighed my clumsiness. I mean, this guy was such a good kisser, he’s definitely going into the Ambirge Book of World Records. (A prestigious publication, if I do say so myself.)

So when I hadn’t heard from him for a while, I admit–I was a tad bummed. I was really hopeful he’d continue to break other world records, ifyouknowwhatImean.

But of course, he couldn’t resist the Ambirge charm for too long–wink–and sooner than later, up pops “El Colombiano” on the display of my cell phone. Being a girl, I deliberately ignore his call (I wasn’t kidding in the past when I said that you really don’t want to date me). The next day, I play it cool and send him a casual text message with a flirty yet could-take-it-or-leave-it vibe. You know the drill, ladies.

Next thing you know, we’re engaged in a rapid fire text conversation, full of sarcasm and innuendos, when he tells me that he needs to see me. He wants to meet at a salsa club that weekend, and promises, oozing thick Colombian sex appeal, that he’ll “make me feel like a whole new woman on his arm.”

I bet.

I giddily accept and, as I was getting ready that night, felt like a punch drunk teenager. Ohmygod where’s my perfume?! It has to be here! Wait, should I wear the boots that look sexy but suck for dancing, or the shoes that make me look frumpy, but that I can dance better in?! GAH! Shit. Wait. Seriously, where’s my perfume? What if I smell like a buffalo?! Ohmygod I’m totally going to smell like a buffalo. Hurry up with the flat iron! Jesus, was I wearing this the last time he saw me? Oh thankgod, there’s my perfume. Necklace or no necklace?!?! Well, I don’t want to smack him in the face with it if we’re salsa dancing. But that means that I have to wear earrings, and earrings so don’t go with this top! Fuck. Fuck fuck fuckity fuck! Someone pour me some vodka!

Can you imagine? That shit is actually happening in girls’ bathrooms around the world, as we speak. As a matter of fact, some poor girl is practically about to burst every blood vessel in her face. Awwwwkkkkwwwarrrrrddddd.

Anyway, I miraculously manage to get ready without bursting any blood vessels, and my friend Maiten and I head off to this salsa club. Meanwhile, the Colombian and I are texting one another back and forth about my arrival, and I’m pretty excited about it.

His last message before we arrived: “Te llevare al cielo y de vuelta.” I’ll take you to heaven and back.

Good god these Latinos.

The taxi drops us off on the corner, and we stand there momentarily, looking for an entrance. I’m there taking deep breaths as if I’m in labor, nervous to see him, when suddenly, we notice this dark-skinned guy who looks like he’s fresh out of a Ludacris video, grinning at us from ear to ear on the other side of the street.

Greeeaaaattttttt, a creeper, we whisper to one another, when suddenly, aforementioned creeper proceeds to throw up his arms like, “Yo yo yo!” and begins crossing the street.

Enter: Crisis mode.

Here in Chile, the men aren’t always that…polite, so to speak.

I begin yelling to him in Spanish that we’re waiting for a friend, before turning away to face the other direction, but it was too late. There he was, front and center, with his big, stupid, smiley grin, and his bling bling dangling from his neck.

I look at him blankly, but there he was, still smiling away.

Finally, he says: “You don’t remember me, do you?”

Me: Um….errrr……nooo? (Uncomfortable.)

Him: Luis?

Me: Luisssss…..Luisssss….ummmm…..yeah, noooo, not so much. (More uncomfortable.)

Him: But…the messages?

Me: The messages?

THE MESSAGES.

And it was right then and there that I realize what has happened. My facial expression contorts into something out of a horror film, as I slowly take a step back, my mouth literally wide open, eyes bugging out of my head.

Ohmygod, I say under my breath to Maiten.

Ash, what the hell is going ON? she blurts.

Ohmygod.

Ohmygod.

Ohmygod.

What?!

Ohmygod.

Ohmygod.

Ohmygod.

What?!

And at that point, I just lose it. There was no holding back the laughter that ensued. There, on a foreign street corner, underneath the glow of a flickering street light, I laugh. And I laugh. And I laugh with everything I am.

Maiten realizes what has happened, and she begins laughing, too.

Before you know it, the both of us are doubled over with laughter, unable to breathe, unable to talk, and unable to stop, huffing and puffing with uncontrollable, balls-to-the-wall laughter, as I stomp my feet on the sidewalk and head to the nearest street sign for support.

Meanwhile, Luda is behind us, patiently waiting, surely thinking that I have lost my damn mind. I’m trying to pull it together, because we’re being incredibly rude, but I simply could. not. help it.

You’ve figured out what happened, I’m sure.

As it turns out, all this time, I had been texting “El Colombiano,” which I naturally assumed was my Justin Timberlake Colombiano. I had recently switched cell phones and transferred my contacts so when I saw “El Colombiano” pop onto my screen nearly a week prior, I just assumed it was my Colombiano–the one from NOW. What other one was there?

Apparently, there was another. One I had long forgotten about. One I had met when I first got to Chile, and one that I had gone out of my way to avoid. And yes, I had been wrongly texting him this entire week.

In retrospect, it all made sense – he had sent me some strange messages saying that he was so glad to be in touch, and that he wanted to “see me once more in this lifetime.” And there I am thinking, Damn…these Colombians are so dramatic! I just saw him three days ago!

Little did I know.

So there I am, on a street corner, in the middle of Santiago in a place I’m not familiar with, next to this guy who, for an entire week, thinks he somehow suddenly lucked out…and that six months after meeting me I suddenly want to see him…(ha)…..and now I’m stuck with the job of explaining to him that that, in fact, wasn’t the case, and that…I thought he was someone else. I mean, my only other option was to bolt down the street running, and yes it absolutely crossed my mind.

I cannot describe how incredibly bad I felt in that moment. He had gotten dressed and came out especially to see me, and so I also debated having us just stay…but from my memory of him before, he was not someone I preferred to associate with, and I didn’t feel like that would be a good idea.

So, of course, as I’m explaining to him what has happened–feeling like the biggest jackass on the face of the planet–I may have exaggerated my relationship status with the Justin Timberlake Colombian, in order to not hurt his feelings that we weren’t going to stay regardless.

I tell him that Justin Timberlake Colombian and I have moved into a more serious relationship, and that it wouldn’t be cool if I stayed.

And naturally, he says: “So…..you have a boyfriend. But…..you don’t have his phone number?”

Cue the most awkward moment ever, with me there flailing my arms about, rambling on about changing cell phones and…weird!…and I don’t know WHERE he is…and on and on and on.

Finally, we leave.

But before we do, this Colombian shouts to me: “Do me a favor, too? Make sure you delete my number from your phone this time.”

Ouch.

So, as it turns out, I spent the entire evening fretting like a school girl for nothing. As it turns out, I had been bragging to my girlfriends about the Justin Timberlake Colombiano “coming back around,” like I was so smooth and irresistible. And, as it turns out…that wasn’t the case at all.

So!

Welcome to my life.

Can I get you something to drink?

I think I’ll have a double.

Drink, that is. Not Colombians.

This time, anyway.

P.S. If you were really sad that there was no business included in this post, I encourage you to hop over to Matthew Kimberley’s site, where you can listen to a podcast I did on getting my first client.

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Sometimes, you want to do it all yourself.

Sometimes, you don’t want anyone’s help.

And sometimes, you (bull-headedly) insist on being the hero in your own fairytale.

Sometimes, that person is me.

Other times, that person is you.

But if there’s anything I’ve learned when it comes to love, life, happiness & business, it’s that there comes a time when it’s okay for us both to drop the act.

In fact, it’s not just okay, but it’s a must.

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This isn’t a post about connecting with others because--together you can go farther!–or some happy horseshit like that.

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Rather, it’s simply about remembering that we’re called human beings for a reason–and that with that, comes an element of humanity.

And humanity implies a collective–something that perhaps we should consider emphasizing for once, rather than minimizing.

Because while it is true that together you *can* go farther, the fact of the matter is that we don’t need to go farther.

What we need, rather, is to go deeper.

Deeper into ourselves, deeper into our connections, deeper into our world, and deeper into our most precious desires.

Because it’s there–in the deep recesses that we typically ignore–where every answer lies that we’ve ever longed for.

It’s just a matter of digging for them.

But–

We can’t do the digging all ourselves–as much as our pride insists on it.

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So this, friends, is a call for trust.

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To trust readily.  To trust shamelessly.  To trust frankly, fully, ingenuously and open-heartedly.  To trust so much that your raw, unearthed vulnerability is exposed, but instead of running from it, you revel in it.

It’s about trusting ourselves, it’s about trusting each other, and it’s even about trusting in the Dutch pilot who sits down next to you and your friend Nina while she’s visiting you in Chile, and proceeds to wax on about how beautiful you both are in the cheesiest of ways.

Because sometimes, the Dutch pilot is telling the truth.

And sometimes, instead of turning our heads, looking the other way, and pretending not to hear him, we should look the Dutch pilot squarely in the eyes, flash him a bold smile, and simply say, “Thank you.”

Because as it turns out, he’s human, too.

And as it also turns out, we now have a chance to go to Ecuador for the weekend.

See what I mean?

This trust thing isn’t so bad, after all.

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P.S.

If you look to up to the right at my mailing list opt-in (which you should obviously be a part of), you’ll see why it’s really ironic–and hilarious–that we ended up sitting next to a pilot in the first place. Thank you, world, for humoring me last night. Next time, could you make him a little younger, and perhaps throw in some hair?

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1.  Because watching people whose first language isn’t English, try to sing along with “Deck The Halls,” is hilarious.

2.  Brazilian butts or Santa’s gut–you pick.

3.  No more unhealthy fantasies about ripping that damn bell out of the hands of the skinny guy with the cigarette hanging out of his mouth, and sticking it in places a bell doesn’t (usually) belong.

4.  Your friends in other countries will be just as grateful if you gift them a pack of Tootsie Rolls and a hug.  More economical AND less consumeristic.  Yes, that’s a word.

5.  Your in-laws are thousands of miles away.  Enough said.  Unless you’re one of those people who likes your in-laws.  *glances at you suspiciously while stroking chin*

6.  No one–I repeat, no one–will make any reference to you “shooting your eye out.”  Or make you suffer through the movie.  Again.

7.  Grandma will be far more likely to believe you when you tell her that the sweater she knitted you was “stolen.”  Damn terrorists.

8.  You’ll actually lose weight over the holidays, because instead of hopping in your SUV, you walk everywhere.

9.  Eggnog, Schmegnog.  Bring on the cachaca, baby.

10.  You don’t have to feel guilty about having a fake tree.   You can just say you got lost on your way to the Christmas tree farm and didn’t know how to ask for directions.

11.  Being in a foreign country encourages creativity; you can’t just pick up another Bath & Body Works gift basket and call it a day.  Hell, in some places you’ll be lucky if you can find a stick of deodorant.  Now there’s a useful Christmas present.

12.  You can buy a whole live pig for the same price as you spent last year on your 10 pound ham.

13.

Dashing through the…..water.

In a one-horse powered jetski

Over the waves we go

Laughing all the way

Calls for happy hour ring

Making spirits bright

What fun it is to travel & be a digital entrepreneur tonight!

14.  For reasons unknown to mankind, Christmas cookies ARE!  ALWAYS!  HARD! Tres leches?  Not so much.

15.  Who needs a cozy night by the fireplace when the disco is open until 7am?

16.  Did I mention that the disco is open until 7am?

17.  Plastic lawn ornaments are, not surprisingly, a gringo thing only.  Thank god.  Or someone.

18.  You can ignore the hyper commercialism, hyper consumerism, and hyper children and just go scuba diving instead.

19.  You didn’t want a new pair of socks, anyway.

20.  Last but not least?  Because you can justify doing things you’d never do at home.  Like splurging for a massage.  Or letting yourself be seduced by a [wo]man who you know is just going to be a one-night stand.  Or, you know, by actually staying OUT at the disco until 7am.

Because after all, isn’t having a little fun with this thing we call life one of the greatest gifts we can give ourselves?

Speaking of fun…

No matter where you are, if you are looking to be more creative with giving this year instead of another bottle of Sun-Ripened Raspberry shower gel, I had fun the other day and came up with a whole bunch of sassy gift codes in the event that you’d like to give someone the gift of knowledge and empower someone to learn how to leverage the web, do what they love, and get paid for it.

If you feel oh-so-inclined to click below & purchase You Don’t Need a Job, You Need Guts:  Combining Passion + Self + Business Through Digital Entrepreneurship for a friend, you’ll receive one of the extra super duper sassy gift codes (instead of the actual book itself), that you can then jot down in a fancy card, along with a link to the site, and your oh-so-special loved one can then enter the code at checkout and the cost to them will be ZERO.

Pretty neat, eh?

Click here to give someone the gift of knowledge.

And one more thing.

Don’t forget to keep an eye out for Paolo Sambrano Part II, which I’ll publish on Thursday.  And, of course, get ready for another killer (KILLER) edition of Fear, Exposed tomorrow.  It’s a hot one.

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Yesterday, a reader emailed me this:

Ok. I’ve added you to my “HEROS” list on Twitter because you’re absolutely one of the people I’ve come across that I want to emulate in some form or fashion (sans the dress and overseas love affairs with men).

Anyway, I’ve combed through your blog quite extensively (a literary masterpiece) and I can’t seem to really round up your story.

I guess, if you have just a moment, I’d love to hear who you are and how you started.

Well, I took that suggestion to heart, because I realized that I haven’t really told my story in full, because I always try & keep my focus on the reader.

But maybe it’s time.

I hope you can take something from it.

And when you’re tempted to send me hate mail for publishing such an obnoxiously long post, you’ve got the guy who sent me that email to thank.  ;)  While you’re at it, you should also probably tell him that overseas love affairs are so worth it.

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OBLIVIOUS

When tears silently fell from her cheek upon finding the note from her lover, 3 days before their daughter was born that read:  ”I’m sorry.  I can’t do this.”

ASHAMED

When classmates asked me what my daddy did for a living.  I lied & told them he was Crocodile Dundee, and had to be in Australia to tame the outback.

CONFUSED

When we used different money than everyone else to buy bread & milk.

BITTER

When I was 14 and stood waiting in the hospital for my step dad to come out of the doctor’s office. He handed me a phamplet. It read, “Helping Your Family Cope with Terminal Cancer.”

NOSTALGIC

When I would hear Puff Daddy’s “I’ll Be Missing You” come on the radio after he died, just a few short months later, after tearfully asking me to call him “dad” instead of “Jimmy,” like I always had. I got to call him it twice.

MORTIFIED

When it was just me & my mom after that, and all of the other 15 year olds had basements underneath their houses. We had wheels.

FRUSTRATED

When my mother’s debilitating anxiety & social disorder prevented her from ever coming to watch me play volleyball more than once in 4 years. We were almost state champions.

RELIEVED

When the founder of Monster.com thought I was worthy enough to be awarded a 4-year, all-expense paid scholarship to a private, liberal arts school—room & board included. The scholarship was based on financial need & demonstrated entrepreneurial spirit. My mom cried.

GUILTY

When I took the scholarship and left her all alone.

SADDENED

When an unexpected card would arrive with $50 that she didn’t have inside, telling me to go buy myself something pretty.

ANNOYED

When, 6 years later, I found myself in that same hospital waiting room. But this time, it was my mother I was waiting for to come out of the doctor’s office.

SCARED

When I realized the seriousness of the matter.

PATIENT

When she taught me how to pay all of the bills, as I wrote out check after check from her hospital bedside, as nurses came in and out to take her blood.

LIVID

When the doctor’s arrogant insensivity to her pain one day made her weep.

VENGEFUL

When I let him have a piece of my 20 year old mind.

FRUSTRATED

When college friends ragged on me for not going out that weekend to party.

RESENTFUL

When I couldn’t.

SHOCKED

When I got the phone call while driving to my first day at my internship at a local TV station.

DEVASTATED

When, by the time I got to our house, the coroner had taken her body & simply left a note on the door.

BITTERSWEET

When, 4 months later, I walked across the graduation stage & got my college degree, not even bothering to look out into the crowd for a familiar face, knowing there wouldn’t be one.

INDIFFERENT

When I hastily auctioned off all of our things.

LOST

When I sold our house & moved to Costa Rica—mostly because I didn’t know what else to do.

DISTRAUGHT

When I loved it there, but still felt the pressing need to “live up to my potential” & become a CEO.

HOPEFUL

When I flew back to the United States several months later to interview for my first real job.

WORRIED

When I realized that I didn’t have a home to return to.

GRATEFUL

When the job went so well, I received a promotion to head up marketing efforts.

DISHEARTENED

When I’d see planes pass by my office window, and longed to be one of the passengers on board.

DISAPPOINTED

When the realization came that I could only be one of those passengers for up to two weeks a year, from now until the day I retired.

DISILLUSIONED

When I discovered that my dreams of corporate success were never worthy of my time.

DESPAIRED

When others told me I was naïve, and that I just had to suck it up.

LONELY

When those same people spent Thanksgiving & Christmas with their families.

ARROGANT

When I quit my job in 2007 & decided to become a freelance copywriter instead.

FOOLISH

When I actually thought that spending my time developing corporate communications materials that didn’t interest me would be any better.

EXCITED

When that same year, Escape Artist gave me a contract to write an eBook on visiting Costa Rica.

SMART

When I realized they didn’t have exclusive rights, and I could develop my own site & sell the book there, too.

DETERMINED

When I laboriously tried to learn HTML.

ELATED

When I saw my very first sale come through Clickbank.

INTRIGUED

When I discovered the world of Google Adwords.

ADDICTED

When it became apparent that you really can make money online.

CONFIDENT

When I painstakingly slaved over a book proposal to write a non-fiction narrative titled, “The Truth About Mangoes.”

TORN

When I repeatedly received the infamous rejection letter (after rejection letter after rejection letter after rejection letter).

DESPERATE

When I wasn’t making as much money online as I thought I would, and had to borrow money from a boyfriend to pay my $1,000 a month rent.

HOPELESS

When I caved to pressure & agreed to take a job as an advertising account executive in order to pay the bills.

ENCOURAGED

When I got contract after contract signed on the spot.

UNCERTAIN

When, in my heart, I knew I needed more than signatures & commissions.

PETRIFIED

When, despite that knowledge, I was too scared to make any bold moves, knowing that I had no one in the world to back me up if I failed.

INCENSED

When I stood by and watched that fear get the best of me.

OPTIMISTIC

When I returned to school for my master’s degree in Teaching English as a Second Language.

ANXIOUS

When I imagined that my degree would allow me to indefinitely travel the world, and make anywhere I pleased my home.

IRRITATED

When loan applications were denied without a parent co-signer.

STUBBORN

When I decided that I would teach English online as a way to make up for it.

HEARTBROKEN

When, at a time when I was just barely making ends meet with $26 in my checking account, a good friend told me I needed to find a new place to live so her boyfriend could move in.

DEFEATED

When I had no choice but to go stay with a mysterious new guy I had been seeing.

DESTROYED

When, a few weeks later, I fought for my life as the mysterious new guy almost strangled me to death, and physically threw me outside onto the pavement because I was late.

HOPELESS

When I was alone & scared in the middle of the night, with everything I owned and no place to go.

ANGUISHED

When a friend told me it was my own fault, and that if I had only just played by the rules & had continued to go to work everyday like everyone else, I would have had had a savings & would have never have been in that situation.

OBSTINATE

When I decided to start The Middle Finger Project as a way to find people who GOT IT. Who got ME, and this NEED to seek MORE out of life…despite the consequences.

DILIGENT

When I taught myself everything I needed to know about blogging via endless Google searches.

VALIDATED

When my ideas were well-received, and I began to grow an audience.

COURAGEOUS

When I remembered how good my online success felt in 2007, and decided to learn as much as I could about affiliate marketing.

AMAZED

When some months I was making > $1000+ as a result.

EXHILARATED

When I found myself up until the wee hours of the night writing for the blog, which told me I was finally on the right path.

DEDICATED

When I decided I wanted to make it my full-time gig.

INSPIRED

When I continued on with TMF, and began plotting & executing some other online projects as well.

PEACEFUL

When my influence online grew & grew, and I began making more & more money.

INVIGORATED

When I decided to move to Chile, simply because I wanted to, and I can, since I no longer have to be in any one physical location, thanks to the internet. And later, Spain. And later, Costa Rica. And now, back in the U.S.A. for a jaunt in a sexy loft apartment I made my own.

HAPPY

When I looked around me yesterday, took a sip of my wine, and finally felt like I was doing what I was meant to do, and being what I was meant to be…despite the long road it took to get here.

That said, I have a message.

For everyone out there thinking to yourself that it’s unrealistic, YOU ARE WRONG.

For everyone out there shackled by fear, telling yourself that you could lose everything, YOU ARE RIGHT.

And for everyone out there that, despite that knowledge, is still willing to risk it by fighting for something more out of this fleeting speck of time we’re granted here on earth, YOU ARE THE ONLY ONES WHO WILL TRULY SUCCEED.

Because at the very least, you know that you did everything you could.

Not many people can say the same.

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It’s that fear.

It’s that dirty little lurking thought in the back of your head that moseys on up to the forefront every single time you’re finally prepared to step up to the plate and take a chance in life.

You’re not smart enough.

You don’t know what you’re doing.

People will see right through you.

This is never going to work.

Who do you think you are?

You’re a foolish ox.

Yes, that’s right, I said it: OX.

OX!!!!

Stop being so impractical.

Your! Idea!  Is!  Stupid!

And those pants you’re wearing?

What were you thinking?

You should really be on a diet.

OX.

How can you be successful in anything else if you can’t even lose 10 pounds?

I told you this was a bad idea.

You and your ideas.

You’re never going to get anywhere, because while you’re busy wasting all of your time twirling your hair with your head in the clouds….everyone else is working hard, saving money and building families.

And at the end of the day, they’re going to have nice, stable lives, and you’re still going to be stammering around, looking for something that probably doesn’t even exist.

You’re so naive.

You and your damn ideas.

Just do what everyone else is doing for once, and stop questioning everything already.

You try so hard to be special, but really you’re a no one.

So start acting like it.

Ox….

Sound familiar?

We are experts at beating the crap out of ourselves; which, by the way, I’ve always found interesting, since unless we were seriously abusive, most of us would never, ever, ever say those things to a friend.  So why is it okay for ourselves?

That’s exactly it–oftentimes, we aren’t our own friend. We give and we give and we give to everyone who needs us, supporting them throughout their journey, acting like their rock, building up their confidence, bringing them up when they feel down, reassuring them that everything will be okay, and generally helping to validate them and their ideas, and provide as much encouragement as we can.

Because that’s what friends do.

But the moment that WE need support.  The moment that WE need reassurance.  The moment that WE need validation.  The moment that WE need ourselves more than ever…….we pull a snide little disappearing act.

Instead of being supportive, kind and gentle with ourselves, we switch on the other voice–the fear voice.  The one who just called you an Ox and meant it.

The voice doesn’t go away.

It keeps popping up time and time again, putting you down and making you question yourself, causing a whole mess of doubt, fear and neurosis.

And because it’s so damn loud, most of the time you can’t help but listen to it–like the sound of a train passing by when you’re standing right next to the track.

As a result, as the years have gone by, this bastard–this voice–is so loud, and so present, that it begins RUNNING YOUR LIFE.

Which inevitably means that YOU are NOT.

And doesn’t THAT make you a little mad inside?

The Solution to the Unknown

As most of you know, I spent the summer driving around the United States, meeting readers and lots and lots of new faces, and just generally doing A LOT of talking.

We talked about goals, dreams, ideas, plans, businesses, passions and everything in between.

And after all that talking, if there’s one thing I could identify–one principal reason why people aren’t getting out there and reaching these goals, acting on these dreams, and trusting in these passions, it’s because of that damn voice.

Fear of the unknown.

In many cases, their fear voice was saying to them:

You don’t know how to make it happen.

You’re not skilled enough.

You lack so much to be desired.

And, yeah, that voice can be a real burden.  But here’s the thing about those objections:  Anytime you hear yourself second guessing because you don’t have enough information, things seem overwhelming, and you don’t know how….you know what you do?

YOU GO FIND OUT.

And inevitably, you’ll find that as you learn more, you gain more confidence, and that voice gets softer, and softer, until your own finally starts being heard.

And boom.

The universe just got a little brighter, indeed.

It’s About Time We Silence That Voice.  It’s About Time We Start Taking Leaps.  It’s About Time We Start LIVING.

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