I was a graduate student at the time, doing my best to have fun and get me one of them there Ph.D.s. I was moonlighting as a coach (or was I moonlighting as a grad student?). One fine day I was to have lunch with a professional woman who professed interest in hiring me as her coach. I remember the feelings of excitement (and anxiety) surrounding the possibility that I might have my first paying client.
Not wanting to be late, I left the house at least an hour early. I stopped in the local used sports equipment store next door to the restaurant where we were to meet and browsed.
And that’s when I found it.
Thirty-two ounces of softball-squashing perfection. The season was just about to begin, and here I had just found the ultimate softball bat. The bat had hardly been used and would normally sell for around $200.00. The sticker on the barrel said $50.00. I gripped it, took a few mock swings, and shook my head. I couldn’t believe my good fortune. I could see softballs meeting the sweet spot and exploding skyward. I could hear the crisp * TING! * of bat meeting ball, the dull * PONG! * as it landed onto the tennis courts after clearing the fence.
This bat would make those things happen on a regular basis. There was no doubt.
I was giddy, giddy I tell you, as I carried the bat around the store and tried on some cleats. While I was lacing my shoes, I made my mistake. I began to think about the $50.00 the bat would cost me. I did not realize that I had just opened the floodgates to fearful thoughts inside my mind.
Understand that as a graduate student pulling down all of $8,000.00 a year (yes, that’s before taxes, people), $50.00 for a new softball bat felt like a pretty big risk. I bargained with myself and agreed that if I got the new client, then I would reward myself with the bat. I strategically hid my slugger in with the lesser bats where it would be safe upon my return and went to my meeting next door.
The woman and I hit it off, I had my first paying client. I floated out the door to claim my reward. The whole softball team is going to be so thrilled, I thought. As I entered the shop, my beautiful bat was still there.
Only now it was in the hands of a man at the counter. The same man who was telling the clerk about how this bat was such a wonderful bargain. The same man who was saying how lucky he was to have found it. The same man was saying how his whole team was going to be so psyched.
I wanted to go up that man and inform him of the mistake that had been made. “You see good sir, that’s really my bat, blah blah blah.” I was stunned. It never occurred to me that I could lose that bat. I know, I know. We’re were only talking about a softball bat here. But that bat represented what I really wanted. I knew the right thing would have been to buy it, and I had betrayed myself.
And I failed to act on what I really wanted. I failed to trust my gut. I had placed a contingency on my feelings (“IF I get a new client, THEN I’ll get what I want”). I’m convinced that life does not work that way. If you want something, you can always have it. BUT… must be bold enough to claim it. You must swing that bat. That’s the real test. Keep the bat on your shoulder and you’ll be heading back to the dugout with your head down.
From that day on, that bat became my symbol of the importance of getting what you really want, even when it feels risky. That bat symbolized opportunity and the need to seize the moment when it feels right.
Since this traumatic sporting equipment incident, I’ve made many significant decisions. Do I end this relationship? Do I move across country? Do I move back across country? Do I buy this truck? Do I invest in this relationship? And now, do I buy this house? (These days, most houses are several times more expensive than even the best softball bats). I always think back to that golden Easton slugger.
I do my best not to make my decisions in my head anymore. When I’m in my head, analyzing, there’s a lot of noise. Debating voices. I hesitate. When I hesitate, I lose.
When talking to a realtor friend about my house (I’m also a big believer in talking to experts), he asked me “did you get that rumble in your belly as you were walking through that told you this was YOUR house?” Rumbles are feelings, not thoughts.
I felt the rumble. I bought the house the next day. Life savings?
* POOF! *
But I really wanted this house. I’ve put all my chips on this feeling. And I know that this decision will work out better than I could have imagined. They always do. (Note to self: Better buy flood insurance after that statement…)
The universe is always speaking to us through our feelings; an unfailing compass that always points to True North. When we acknowledge the importance of our feelings about what we want and what we do not want in our lives, the real challenge comes when we must trust and act upon those feelings. And yes, where there is trust, there is risk. There’s always some degree of risk.
Ah, life. You just gotta swing the bat.