A couple months ago, someone I trust with the sacred things said this to me:
“People want to see you. People want to hear you. People want to be around you. When you open to that idea, when you lean in, they’ll lean in.”
She didn’t tell me to “stop putting out bad and start putting out good.” She just put a mirror in my hands, and for the first time, I actually looked. Really looked at myself and the world I built. The world hasn’t shut me out; I have kept it distant. I’ve been working to learn, unlearn, and relearn this narrative.
For a long time I thought I was open. I wasn’t closed, exactly, I just hadn’t learned how open I could be. I mistook early steps for the destination. From here, farther down the path, I can see how much ground I’ve covered. Openness didn’t arrive as a lightning strike; it accumulated. It was the long, tedious work of finding safety, of being seen, of hearing I am a good person, of living with the consequences, of jealousy, of trying again. Those pieces didn’t look like a path while I was inside them. Only in hindsight do they line up.
Going forward, here’s the reminder I am attempting to keep taped to my mind: I don’t know the path–fuck, I don’t even know the goal. But I can set an intention and take the next small step. I’ll get derailed. I’ll change my mind. I’ll struggle. I’ll also feel pure joy. All of that is the point. Life isn’t the destination; it’s the small pieces that cultivate it.
Recently, those pieces showed up at a market this past weekend and like all beautiful unlearning, it resonated loudly and gave me new tools.
My subconscious plan for any market is the obvious one: support artists by buying something. I didn’t realize that was the unspoken instruction my brain had auto-selected. I arrived at this one, super excited, ready to buy, and almost instantly got overwhelmed. Too many choices. Pressure to pick the “right” thing. Stress.
Then a tiny interruption: a question.
Why am I overwhelmed? Why can’t I decide? Why do I feel pressure?
I didn’t have the answer, but here’s the goddamn moment of glory: it didn’t matter. The question itself broke a routine. It made space. That was the win. I left the market without a physical prize, but I was still energized, happy and proud of my question.
Later, I tried on a tentative answer: maybe I can’t tell which energy is mine and which belongs to the crowd. That’s a pattern for me at concerts, markets, any group setting. Maybe learning to recognize my own energy would help.
Enter the friend with the sacred advice, turning my little answer into something bigger. If groups stir me up, and I’m choosing to lean into them, then I can also lean in earlier. Before the event. Set an intention. Not “go to more things.” Ask: Why am I going to this one? What do I want to do there?
The answer came fast: I don’t want to buy anything at a market. I want to support artists… oh dear god, I want to connect. I want to hear stories. I want to learn about their trade. I want to engage.
Okay, strategist brain: you’re up. Are there other ways to support them then? Yes duh. Take their card. Share their work with a friend. Follow, review, connect, amplify.
Holy shit. I already know this. It’s Business 101. It’s my literal profession. Name the goal. Work toward the goal. Ditch what doesn’t serve it. Lean into what does. And stay flexible, because the goal can evolve.
Why am I only applying this to my life now? I use this playbook every day at work. When I let it touch my heart-life, it felt like a trapdoor opening to a room I already owned. That realization was beautiful. It wasn’t new information; it was new permission. I didn’t need a different self. I needed to let the self I am hold the tools I already carry.
So here’s where I’ve landed. I don’t have to see the whole path to move; I can trust that each step will reveal the next. I don’t need a flawless destination; I can surrender to the clarity that’s available right now. My job is a simple intention and one faithful action. I meet the moment with humility, asking one honest question, and I offer myself forgiveness as the answers change. What’s true can change; I’m allowed to, too.
At a future market, my intention could be this. Without the pressure to purchase, I can help the noise drop. I could actually meet people. I could listen. I could ask. I could took cards. I could text friends links to artists’ pages on the spot. Support, accomplished, but (thankfully) without the hangover of decision fatigue or buyer’s remorse.
Cheers to unlocking yet another “mystery” that was never outside me. I don’t know the way, but I can keep taking honest steps in the direction of what matters through listening, asking, leaning in, and trusting that the path will reveal itself under my feet.
Today, the question is the win. Tomorrow? I’ll get another one, too.
