…Georgia trailing behind me
We’d walked down a slopping lush Positano path with shops selling exquisite ceramics, clothes, coffee, pastry, clothing, souvenirs and….
I, for some bizarre reason, expressed interest in a shoe store.
Georgia (being Georgia) urged me inside.
And, I fell in love. Immediately. Head over heels.
I know I’ve been a bit cliche so far so let me describe the feeling in my body.
It was as if my heart was wide open and a vortex of energy beckoned me toward the shoes.
Now, this is unusual because if you’ve followed me for any period o time you know I’m not a great dresser. I’m not really a good dresser. I lack style.
I also HATE spending money on things (especially on myself).
Now, again for those who’ve been following me for a while, you also know I’ve dealt with very deep self-worth and money issues (all sorts of issues really…) so it’s no surprise the downstream effect has been a lacklustre style featuring mostly sweats and gym clothes.
As soon as my open heart drew me to the shoes and caused me to pick them up in full marvel mode my head (the old self-worth shit rearing its super ugly head) chimed in (limiting beliefs are a BITCH):
“You really shouldn’t get these. Look at the price! You’ve come a long way dude… but… not quite this far. Maybe next time.”
The feeling in my heart started to dimmer…
Georgia looked over and said, “do you like those?”
“I love them. I’ve never loved a shoe more. I want them.”
G: “So get them” (oozing exuberance and sincerity).
I shared with her my thoughts…
…she urged me to buy them.
I considered it for a second and I felt my heart blow open.
I’ve listened to those fucking words in my head forever… the more I listen to my heart the better my life gets… My heart urged me to the shoes.
(to be clear I can actually easily afford them… but my old story doesn’t care about reality).
I’ve been saying for a while now that I need to find my style. Something that truly fits ME (not my limiting bullshit thoughts about me).
And these shoes are ME. And so they are mine.
I bought the beautiful fuckers. I’m wearing them as I type this.
Because I love them.
My new narrative caught up with my heart very quickly…
“These shoes are exactly who you are! Yes, they’re more money than you usually spend on shoes, but you’re doing really well and you have more than enough to pay for them. Not only that… but, your sort of a money making machine… no big deal (it’s actually a big deal because of where I’ve come from – but don’t tell my brain… this IS the new normal). There’s no better time to get these… just buy the damn shoes.
If you’re still with me you might be thinking this is a story about shoes and while it is…
…it’s much more a story of who I’ve become.
(but even more it’s just an example that you can change too – if that’s what you’d like…)
I’m not the same man I was even a year ago.
I’ve done the work on myself. I’m going to keep doing it because the return is far more significant than a pair of shoes or this trip I’m on.
It’s finally BEing me and living in the verve of possibility; frankly, there’s nothing sweeter.
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