The year she called in the magic

This is it, she said to herself at the beginning of the year, when life as we used to know it still existed, this is the year the magic will happen. 

She’d been telling herself this for the last few years, but there were always excuses. The children were too young; they needed her attention; she was never 100% sure of what it was she wanted to do; but whatever it was, she probably needed another degree, a few more initials after her name; why would anyone listen to her anyway; and wasn’t she getting a little too old to start something new, especially if it required her to be some sort of expert? 

But she was growing increasingly tired of those voices. And so, she pulled the trigger. 

She hired a business coach who connected her with a group of like-minded women, and for the next twelve months, would set out to launch her business. I’ll do what I love, she said to herself back in January, though she didn’t exactly know what that meant. 

But when she thought more about it, she did know. When her coach asked her all the questions coaches ask, she knew exactly. 

It would be about connection. 

Her business would be about bringing people together and creating connections. Encouraging that intimate sense of belonging that comes with sharing stories. And inspiring the kind of action that comes from the bravery we find when we realize we are not alone. 

She didn’t actually know what this would look like, but she felt certain she’d figure it out. (Plus, she’d paid that coach to help with this part). 

And then everything changed. 

Global pandemic, the papers said. Stay inside, the experts said. 

Hmmmm, she thought to herself, now what? 

So she slowed herself down to pause and think. How can we create connection when we can’t physically connect? Is that even possible. She wasn’t sure, but she was willing to rethink her plans. 

Until everything changed again. 

A black man was killed at the hands of the police and the world felt as if it had tipped on its axis, tumbling, spiraling, spinning out of control. Of course it had always been spinning, she’d just never felt it. 

That’s privilege, the experts said. Listen up, the black community said. 

And so she sat very still. Listening. Learning. Reading. Reflecting. 

Helicopters flew overhead, rattling her windows as she encountered James Baldwin for the first time and wrestled with how to live a life she could be proud of. 

Shit or get off the pot, her grandfather used to say. Which she understood to mean: do something already. Stop waiting around, stop wasting time, get on with it. 

She thought of her grandfather back in January when she decided that this would be the year the magic happened. And she thought of him again in June, when she realized that the gathering, connecting and creating she’d envisioned when she started the year would manifest itself in a new and much more urgent way. How could it not? 

And so she finds herself, half way through the year, recommitted to her original idea of building connection. Understanding more than ever, that stories matter, stories move people and stories inspire action. 

Now more than ever, she thought, it’s time for action.