The Beginning.

It all begins with an idea. And the gall to believe.

My journey of arc skipping began in 1981. Before I hit the dreaded early teenage years. Life POV: I had no idea who I was or wanted to be. I was 11. My days were spent fearing that I’d start my period in class (TY for that, Judy Blume), embarrassed in equal parts by the ginormous zit on my face as well as how poor my family was, and wishing I was cooler. But life wasn’t awful. Au contraire. I was loved and I knew it. Most of my basic needs were met; those that weren’t led to an innate ability to be scrappy. I had friends. I was athletic and possessed rock solid belief in myself. I had more confidence than perhaps any kid should and I decided I wanted to play baseball like my older brother.

EXCEPT… I couldn’t. Because it was Little League Baseball, aka hard ball for boys. “Girls play softball.”

AND THERE IT WAS, presented like a challenge, my very first arc.

It was an arc I didn’t belong to. One I had no right thinking about, let alone contemplating joining. Sure I excelled at youth sports for girls but, and I quote, “Boys’ sports are very different, Sweetie”. AGAIN, it was ‘81.

I told my brother I was joining his baseball league. He laughed. As if I—that competitive spirit who made it her mission to keep up with him and his older friends and spent her entire youth doing just that—needed additional motivation. I decided I would take my case to my mother. But first, I went to work.

I rode my bike to the local Town Hall, walked in and inquired about the rules for Little League. “Can a girl make the team if she’s good enough?” The clerk commented that I was cute. After all, a girl had never asked this, nor had one played Little League in our or any neighboring towns. I continued my probe, being more specific. “Do the rules say that girls cannot try out?” The clerk stepped away to refer to the hard copy Little League Policy Manual (ugh, the pain of the non-digital era) before returning to inform me that, in fact, girls could try out due to law changes made in the 70’s. WIN. I thanked her, grabbed an application and peddled home at record speed, smiling.

It was a pivotal springboard moment; an arc visibly overhead and also within my grasp if I stretched. I just had to be brave enough to show up and willing to earn it. In retrospect, it was a perfect recipe for me—one that began teaching me the power of transformational navigation at an early age and in a way that reinforced something of monumental importance deep within my being. Your constructs don’t get to define my limits. They won’t. They can’t, because I won’t let them. The power is mine. To live that truth at 11 years old, or any age, is a gift.

We are imperfect humans living imperfect lives. We make bad decisions and wrong choices at various points—even if we believe we’re doing the best we know how to do given the circumstances—because we’re human. To err is to be human. But a beautiful thing about humankind:  We aren’t defined by any singular moment unless we decide to be. We are an accumulation of moments reflective of our thoughts, choices, behaviors, actions, circumstances and more; the combination of which shape us and tell our story.  The notable point: WE HAVE THE POWER TO CHANGE SHIT. When we let go of the fears of standing out and not fitting into rules determined for us by someone else, often decades ago, or the embarrassment of falling short at times (but never for lack of effort), we embolden the power within to decide for ourselves. And that, my friends, is the moment we open ourselves up to greatness.

It doesn’t mean choices come without consequences; they always do. It doesn’t mean all arcs are accessible to us. Some aren’t. But when we learn transformational navigation, we come to see and trust the countless arcs that are available to each of us. We build the strength and stamina to spring up higher than we thought possible, arms extended and fingers spread wide, ready to grab hold. We grow in our wisdom and conviction to use our talents in ways that serve ourselves and others by aligning the arcs we join to the life we desire.

If you’re wondering how the baseball story ended, suffice to say it was my first leap—among a long list that followed—onto an arc not designed for me but better off for having had my company for a bit of time, nonetheless. It served us all well.

Yours truly,
“…that little blonde girl on the boys’ team who can throw a fast ball”

When you’re ready to jump arcs and grab dreams, reach out. We’ll do the thing.