Advice: Hi Emelia. I’m curious “how do you think you would behave if you knew you were the best in the world at what you do?
Answer: I’ll answer this as best I can without sounding too annoying. I know when you long for something and someone else already has it figured out- their advice can come across as obnoxious and pat. But I am the best in the world at what I do and you asked the question so here are my thoughts:
A Typical Day For Me:
I get up at a reasonable hour. Say between 7-8am. Not so early I’m awoken mid-dream and not so late I feel lazy. I get up refreshed and excited.
My kids get up and get dressed in whatever they choose while my husband makes me a cappuccino and breakfast. We do this ritual every morning not because I’m a high-maintenance tyrant but because-
I allow myself pleasure.
The plan for the day is always loose but I know I will get at least 6 hours a day to myself to do my thing. Sometimes that’s yoga, sometimes it’s making a play, sometimes it’s lashing out at an asshole, mostly it’s connecting with people in some way- and it’s all my time and it’s guaranteed.
I start work. Often it’s easy and sometimes fucking heart-wrenching. Sometimes I get a lot done and on other days I want to throw my computer through the fucking window but in general but it always feels important and focused. I’m aware that effort does not necessarily translate into success so I remain loose and allow the muse to take me where she wants to go. I trust her implicitly and as you can see by my tastefully decorated and high vibration home with mementos of all the far off places we have adventured- she has not let me down so far.
I feel calm.
And when I don’t feel calm- I stop. I become a gecko on a wall and go really still. Instead of hiding or running- I’m alert. Observation is a very important skill I’ve honed because I know that being able to articulate my darkness and pain is the key to my success. So much so I have begun to welcome it further in.
I have fun.
Around mid-day, I put on some blush and mascara and “messy bun” and meander up to the shops and take myself out for lunch. I get noticed a lot because I’m the best in the world at what I do so I make time for this. I’m gracious and take some photos and talk to strangers who feel connected to me, because I’m so transparent in my art. I like being recognized for my work. I really appreciate the reciprocation and it means a lot that they notice and care about my efforts so these connections with strangers never get old. I deeply savour them actually. Then I eat a really huge gluten- free sandwich with extra goat cheese. I order the extra cheese not because I’m a big cheese lover but because…
I’m not worried about money.
I know that I always have enough and it’s easy to find more.
Now, I head home and have a nap. It’s part of my job to allow space for the ideas to emerge so resting is part of my workday too.
Most days I spend some time on the computer connecting with folks in real time and it’s fun because I’m being affirmed by the public. People respond lavishly to me and want more, more, more so I know that what I do is useful and it makes me want to keep going.
But dear questioner, I think the most important thing I do all day every day is I’m present. I feel no need to eek out a few minutes in the bathroom by myself. I’m not texting and breastfeeding. I am not edgy or stressed about “how much time is left” because I know all is happening exactly as it’s supposed to.
I have utter faith.
Even the things in my life that are not perfect right now will be perfect in retrospect because what I’m doing today is exactly what needs to be done to get me where I want to go. Or even better, to get me where I cannot even imagine yet.
I really believe this.
And of course the road is long but it’s not fraught with anxiety and pain. It’s a path that’s instinctive and there are many lamps that light the way.
My days are easy.
(If this last phrase brought bile to your throat in disgust, I hear ya. At one point it was ridiculous for me to believe I was this supported too. That my life had divine flow…)
Because sometimes it doesn’t.
For example- my kid came home early with the flu and vomited on me and then my shithead neighbor let his kid ride his bike screaming past my house for 20 minutes straight and I had to stop writing and deal with the puking/screaming. Did I freak the fuck out? A little bit. Did I yell at a neighbors 3-year-old? Maybe.
But I didn’t give up. I went with what was happening and (two days later) I came right back to work. Because…
I think I’m excellent at what I do.
In fact, I’m the best in the world. No one can do it the way I do it so I don’t ever worry about being copied or trumped. There is no getting it out there fast so at least it gets done. Even if I took a year off, my thing would sit patiently and wait for only me. So I enjoy the motherfucking process because the popular 90’s inspirational poster was right:
I have all the time in the world and each moment counts.
and I’m also aware of the not-so-popular poster:
…and at any moment it could all go to hell.
Every day I laugh a lot. My kids make me laugh. My husband makes me laugh. I make myself laugh because what I do is really hilarious and fun and if it stops being fun I’ll change something so it’s fun again.
And at night I always have a bath. I lie in the tub and I feel thankful for my life and job and family but mostly I feel thankful that I feel I’m here for a reason.
Then I go to bed and I make dirty sweet love to my husband an average of 2-3 times a week- because I actually want to- and on the other evenings, we watch netflicks.
I am satisfied.
I slip into my 10,000 thread count, freshly washed sheets and I stretch out like a starfish and just before falling asleep I think to myself-
I am worthy of this love.
I give my soul to the world. I offer myself up completely. I show up every day with my heart for your hands and so when night falls my system know my work in the world is done. My eyelids close and it’s time to let the other forces to take over.
And I’m fierce about this.
If self-doubt comes into my mind I scourge it. I whip the shit outta my self-hate because you gotta be ruthless when you are the very best at what you do. You gotta fight to keep the title.
Okay, I finished early today. Hmmmm. What should I do with the surprise afternoon off? Easy! I’ll head to the beach.
Ps. If you actually got to the end of this post- congratulations. This is a fake dramatic monologue written in bed by a woman wearing saggy-baggy tights while her children watch Paw Patrol and her husband sells shit on Craigslist but I believe deeply in the power of the imagination so let’s fake it till we make it shall we…