Permission to Exhale Granted

I have been working on a handful of creative projects these past couple of months. I tend to pirouette from one topic to another or basically which bone in my

body—perhaps funny bone included—is speaking to me that day. I then focus my attention there just for the day as the excitement and creative juices may dry up somewhere else yet remain fertile in others.

I went through a period of time in my life I would call the Mojave effect. It’s where the ideas don’t come easily, like a dry barren desert without the ability to find the motivation gifted to tackle a nourishing creative pursuit.

We all go through dry periods of time, or seasons of change. Perhaps it feels like absolutely nothing is happening, but in fact something is even if the days and months pass. For me it was several Mojave years before I found my passion and spark again.

The Mojave effect is the buildup of the excitement to help launch you into your next endeavor—far greater than you can imagine. It’s like climbing the excessively long track of a roller coaster waiting to get to the top. It feels long and bumpy and you don’t know what to expect as you continue to climb, but when you reach the top the ride is fast and thrilling and you can’t wait for the excitement of the next peak.

Some people are looking for permission to even get a ticket to ride the roller coaster. They don’t feel confident enough to share their gifts or pursue their dreams.

So the next point brings me to this: If we don’t ask for permission to breathe, why do we need permission to dream?

Someone once told me the gifts you have been given-whatever they are-you may think are for you, when in fact they are gifts to be shared with the world. Love isn’t love until you give it away, so I suppose the same premise is true with your gifts. If you keep them to yourself how will the world relish in what you have to contribute?

So today as you inhale and exhale naturally, let your talent and your dreams unfold, access granted. No permission slip is required; no signature to sign the line.

I’m cheering for you.