Remember when you were a kid and you believed that anything was possible?
One week you were going to grow up and ride a rocket ship to the moon. Another and this was my dream, that I would own a horse ranch and hire handsome men to run it.
One of my daughters couldn’t wait to grow up. The trouble was, she found when grown up that it wasn’t much fun.
How do we get the fun back? How do we pull back those dreams that sustained us on long winter nights?
I learned this from a horse trainer—let’s call him a horse gentler, for that is what he preferred. He said after he got a macho-etocomy, he realized that a dance partner doesn’t want to be pulled to their feet and forced around the dance floor--or slapped, or pulled by ropes. A horse, he said, will respond to pressure no stronger than you can put on your eyeball. (Did you know that a horse’s hide is seven times more sensitive than a human’s?) The point of this that whatever the rank and file are doing, chances are you ought to do the opposite. (Stroke a horse, don’t slap it.)
I’m trying. (Yoda said, “Don’t try, do.) Yet we know when we are standing on the brink of an abyss we quiver a bit, we become immobilized, our brain becomes oatmeal.
You great readers who have been with me for a while know that I studied to become a Real Estate Agent. I passed those horrible exams, I had my background checked, and all my little fingers finger-printed. I paid my dues. I backed off, I tested the water. Well now I have signed with a Brokerage, I’m on the brink, I don’t know what to do next. I know that some of the old ways of operating do not work as efficiently as they once did. I don’t want to become establishment.
What is the opposite?
Daughter and I are The Pink Flamingo Real Estate Team. Now doesn’t having a For Sale sign in your yard with a pink flamingo on it sound outrageous enough to garner attention?
“Next time I’m really going to put my foot down.”
Thank you for following me all you wonderful people.