MY MORE

So I was just watching a video (Shonda's Speech) of Shonda Rhimes (Creator of our much loved Grey’s Anatomy, Private Practice and Scandal) and listening to her tell me (yes me, Nora!) how I need to stop painting blue skies and fluffy clouds about being so-and-so and actually step out and BE somebody. She thinks it’s high time I actually took steps, no matter how shaky in the direction of turning any of my many dreams to some sort of reality or another and I found myself agreeing.

It’s not that I haven’t heard this speech before…over and over have I heard it. But still as I listen to her talk it rings pure and true. It reverberates in my innermost being and causes something in my stomach (no not my bun) to uncoil. Maybe it’s the fact that I had only hours ago listened to Jason Njoku (Founder of iRoko TV) tell me (yes me… and a room full of TEDx Euston attendees and the www in general) his story about failing into success (Jason's Speech). Maybe its hearing people say over and over that ANYONE can literally migrate from the unimpressive to the relevant and lived-a-meaningful-life region that’s causing this unease on my insides and causing me to ask myself the questions:

·         “Why can’t this be MY story?”

·         “Isn’t there more to me than this life that can be summarized in a paragraph or two?”

·         “What is holding me back from daring to be more?”

and very importantly,

·         “What is THAT more that I can be?”

Ultimately, I come back to this point; the point where my thoughts get fuzzy whenever I venture along this train of thoughts; the point where most times I hit a brick unyielding wall. What IS that more that I can be? What IS that ‘more’ that is frothing impatiently on my inside, waiting for me to discover that it’s been here all along, my true self and glorious destiny?

So I start with an inventory. Who am I TODAY, right now?

I check off mental fingers,

·         I’m a HR Professional,

·         I’m a loved and loving Wife,

·         I’m an adoring mother,

·         I’m a treasured daughter (but I don’t think that counts as I had no input in that)”.

I fall mentally silent at this point and then attempt a deeper probe… surely there must be more to me. Silence still. So I go the only logical way there is to go and it’s a promise to self that there MUST be more to me. I will not live and die on a bland note! I WILL matter for something and it doesn’t have to bring fame and glory. I just want to know that when I lay my head down in final mortal sleep, it is to rest from a life well spent, not one that I barely scratched the surface of.

My question still lingers… “What is my more?”

I’ve always loved and wanted to write something worth reading… just maybe…