Well, I do, because it just happened yesterday.
I had finally made a big announcement about my coaching business - a scary one that really increased my visibility. I'm a private person, and even just creating a website has been a little terrifying. And then I went to the bank and did some financial wrangling that was kinda intimidating.
I follow my own coaching advice, so of course I immediately rewarded myself with a small but special treat as a thank-you to myself for doing something that felt "risky but right".
(Sidebar: If you haven't had a dulce de leche latte with sea salt on top, please 1) do something risky but right and then 2) go get you one. This is a great excuse to try a teensy, practical, but very high-yield coaching practice out in Real Time. The more often you link the right risk with an immediate reward, the more your brain will loosen up and let you do those scary but awesome things you're meant to do. Go ahead. I'll wait. )
Back? Great. Delicious, right?
Anyway, when I turned around to leave, bouncing on the balls of my feet with excitement, I bumped that marble-top stand-up table and watched in slow-motion as it fell to the floor and sheared its top right off.
Honestly, reliving it right now makes me wish I had somehow caught it on a video so I could embed it below - whatever that means. Tech novice, anyone?
I also sloshed a third of my dulce on the floor (in a beautiful splatter pattern that I also wish I had photographed).
The whole room stopped, and all I could do was say confidently, "Wow!", "Yes, that was me! I did that!" and, softer, "I am really, really sorry I broke your table."
During the cleanup-and-apology process (which, as you might imagine, is not exactly new to me), a car outside began to honk loudly, disturbing sleeping babies and ruining morning meditations for miles around.
Whose was it? I think we both know the answer to that.
There are a million ways I could respond to this potentially embarrassing series of events, and just as many stories that I could tell about it.
Here are some unhelpful ones I could choose: I break stuff; I can't even handle a latte; I'm clumsy; I don't deserve treats; my boundless energy is a liability; everyone who works at that coffee shop laughs at me behind my back and the customers are telling unflattering stories about me at the farmer's market; I'm immature; I must contain myself so I don't wreck everything; stepping out of my comfort zone destroys things; I obviously have to quite my teaching job because I'm too uncoordinated to be around children; I can never go back there, have to give up my soft pretzel addiction, and might have to move out of this town or, at the bare minimum, change my hair color and grow a mustache.
See how dangerous some of these are?
Here are some better ones: Wow. It really seems like the universe wants me to get comfortable with drawing attention to myself, and I think I'm supposed to keep my sense of humor about it, too; Sheesh, the universe sure noticed; good things are coming to me; it is OK to make mistakes; it's not going to be all smoothness and poise; the universe finds me hilarious and puts stuff in my way just to see how I get around it.
Today, as you are faced with your own Spilled The Dulce, Broke The Table, Set Off The Car Alarm Even Though I Actually Don't Have A Car Alarm moment, how will you respond?
See if you can stay out of the grow-a-mustache zone and stick with "it's okay that people can see me".
Because as we grow bigger and more radiant, we're all going to disturb our metaphorical coffee shops sometimes.
So let's all be ready to smile about it - and to believe the baristas who tell you you're not the only one.