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How Courage is like Ballroom Dancing

My favorite movie of all time is Strictly Ballroom. It’s an Australian film from 1992. Quirky. Hilarious. Endearing. (For film buffs: it’s the first in the Red Curtain Trilogy from Baz Luhrmann that includes the Leonardo DiCaprio version of Romeo and Juliet and Moulin Rouge with Nicole Kidman and Ewan McGregor.)

The first time I watched it was in 2001 while I was in grad school. Someone had recommended it as metaphor for something. I’ve long-forgotten what it was. What I’ve not ever forogotten though, is the experience of watching the credits roll at the end, hitting “back” on the remote, and watching it all over again. I could not tear myself away.

Since then, I’ve probably watched it another 15–20 times. (Just ask my daughters…) It touches something deep within me — something that feels familiar and hungry and true.

Though it could be some latent desire to learn ballroom dancing, I’m pretty sure it’s courage.

I won’t spoil the story for you (in case you are now in complete suspense as to how I could possibly like a film enough to watch it this many times), but I will given you my primary takeaway:

There are times in which I must be willing to break all the rules and believe that winning is not what matters — only dancing my own steps; I have no other choice, really, than to trust my heart…and leap.

Or in this case, paso doble.

Whether on the ballroom floor or, more likely, in the warp and woof of our everyday life, we encounter profound risk. The choice is ours as to whether it will overwhelm us or whisk us straight onto the dance floor.

Risk is actually the evidence that courage is not only called for, but (already and always) ours.

Need a bit more on this?

  • What if, instead of feeling overwhelmed by the risks you’re so quickly calculating in your brain, you saw them as data and proof for the significance and import of your voice, your honesty, your action?
  • What if the presence of risk (and your understandable fear) is what clarifies exactly what you need to do?
  • What if you don’t need to deliberate more, list out the pros and cons yet again, or cross your fingers one more time in the hopes that everything will just resolve itself?
  • What if the things that feel scary and daunting and cause your heart to race are evidence that courage is within reach and within you; that you are ready?

I know. I know. I know.

It’s not quite that simple. In fact, it’s downright complicated most of the time. Which is yet another reason why I love Strictly Ballroom: in just under two hours I can feel into all the fear, all the risks AND all the triumph of courage trusted and displayed.

It’s  because it’s hard, because it’s risky, that courage is needed at all.

And so we lean into and rely on some inner source of gumption; we step, speak, stand, leave, declare, name, intervene, stop, go, and yes, dance.

Believe me, I’m not trying to diminish or negate just how significant the risks and costs can be when you choose yourself, when you demonstrate courage, when you are fully sovereign. I get it. I have more stories to tell than times I’ve watched this movie where I’ve NOT trusted the courage that is mine, I’ve chosen others over myself, and I’ve chosen “safety” over self-trust.

This is what makes me think that perhaps courage is a lot like ballroom dancing.

Yes, courage requires (and is emboldened by) the small, incremental steps that I wrote about last week. But it’s also what’s required in the big moments, the huge decisions, the life-changing next steps, the things you’ve know are yours to do but that you’ve been holding back…

Listen to your heart.
Listen to and trust your wisdom.
Remember that agency is yours.
And then step onto that dance floor — even when the music stops and all hell breaks loose and it seems like it’s over (even though it’s not).

You and your courage are beautiful and glorious. We are riveted by you. Because this IS you — in all your glory.

Dance…please?

About Courage & American Ninja Warrior

I do not know how to explain why I love American Ninja Warrior.

My youngest daughter and I started watching it a few years back. We sat on the couch, side-by-side, mouths agape at what these individuals were able to do. Willing to do! She would laugh at me as my body would move in rhythm to theirs — whether they were swinging on some kind of contraption or trying to jump up to catch a ring, or trying to make it up the 14-foot warped wall — as though I could somehow will them success by fully participating in the comfort of my own home. The two of us would ooh and aah and cheer as they did amazing things, took spectacular falls, and always, always triumphed — no matter what. And we both cried through all the stories about the athletes, their families, hardships, tragedies, and miracles.

So why does this impact me so? Why do I cry? What is that about? It’s American Ninja Warrior!! I’m sure there are lots of reasons for my reactions and responses. But bottom line…It is a privilege to witness the inherent beauty of courage. I cannot help but be moved.

The beauty seen in their stories, their physical capacity, their falls, and their triumphs only comes because of the most incremental of efforts they’ve extended over a very long time. What we witness is the accumulation of small, almost imperceptible courageous acts.

We often think that courage has to be big and dramatic, bold and audacious, crowds cheering, loved ones weeping with joy, “victory,” of some sort. And though that may be true, I have a different idea.

Courage is small and incremental, slow and steady (sometimes fits and starts); the tiniest of choices made, actions taken, words spoken, behaviors altered, and/or lives changed.

This perspective matters.

As long as we see courage as big and dramatic, bold and audacious, we are often stopped before we start.

Instead, what about this:

  • Courage is extending yourself some compassion, practicing self-kindness, and allowing yourself grace.
  • Courage is only one sentence, once a day, spoken in truth. (Yes, just one!)
  • Courage is voicing your opinion just once this week at work. (Yes, just once!)
  • Courage is taking the time to list out the specific steps related to the big leap (Yes, just the list!)
  • Courage is reading a book for even 30 minutes before turning on Netflix. It’s also watching Netflix without guilt or shame because you know that rest matters.
  • Courage is letting yourself honestly name your emotions to yourself. (I am furious. I am devastated. I am afraid. I am in grief. I am lost. I am stuck. I desire. I am actually happy.)
  • Courage is taking the time to write down what you would do if you felt even more courageous.

Cleary, I can go on (and on and on). But far more important than my words and thoughts — are yours. What are the smallest and most compassionate and kindest and most grace-filled acts of courage for you? (Start a list, add to this one, give yourself permission to consider courage as small; but no less significant, powerful, or transformative.)

This quote from Mary Anne Radmacher bears repeating:

Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying “I will try again tomorrow.”

Exactly!

Remember Who You Are

I talk about sovereignty all the time. It’s a program I offer. But more than all else, it’s a reality, a truth, that I see and understand as *just* a given.

Let me explain.

I believe that you — fully yourself, fully authentic, fully honest, fully aligned, fully in your integrity, fully present (I could go on) — already ARE sovereign.

I believe that sovereignty is inherent, implied, implicit, irrefutable, intact within you. It IS you.

And this means that

there is nothing you need to strive toward, do more of, fix, solve, remedy, purge, add, or somehow overcome in order to be sovereign.

Did I mention? You already are.

So, the “work” of being sovereign is about remembering that this is true, that this is who you are — bottom line, underneath it all.

  • Underneath all the messaging you’ve absorbed (and even believed) from culture and family and religion and patriarchy.
  • Underneath all the chatter in your own mind — about how you are not enough or, more often, too much.
  • Underneath all of the fears and risks and costs and consequences that you are relatively certain will ensue IF you are fully sovereign, fully yourself.
  • Underneath all the ways in which other people perceive you (whether that’s in alignment with what you know/believe/feel, or not).
  • Underneath all the roles and titles and responsibilities.

Ahhhh. There you are! You: completely yourself, all of you, sovereign — already and always. Remember?

Rarely do we stay in this place, this state, this awareness in a 24/7 sort-of way. I have to remember — over and over again. And when I do, I can see that it shows up for me in glimpses and glimmers:

  • When I’ve taken the leap and expressed my true feelings in a relationship (instead of the ones I thought the other person could handle).
  • When I’ve expressed my (unpopular, but no less true) opinion at work.
  • When I’ve stepped onto a stage and somehow, miraculously, overcome my insecurities and fears — even for those minutes.
  • When I’ve watched a Netflix series, start to finish, with one of my daughters — looking over at her and feeling so profoundly grateful that she is who she is and that I get to be me, fully me, in her presence.
  • When I’m talking with a friend who has enough history with me that she notices and names what she sees in me, when she calls me to more, when she reflects back what she knows to be true. (And when I can do the same.)
  • When I am writing — especially in those blessed moments when I am unimpeded by my inner critic or Resistance — putting every bit of my head and heart on the page.
  • When I am in conversation with a client, listening deeply to their heart and simultaneously hearing the know-that-I-know-that-I-know voice within me; being clear in that moment about what is mine to say, what grace is mine to extend, what wisdom is mine to offer.
  • I could go on.

All of these are moments. But, when added together, they create markers along the way, plumb lines of sovereignty’s presence, me — at my core — being all of who I am.

Ahhhh. Right. Now I remember.

And this is what I’m inviting you to, as well. Remember who you are when you are most yourself, underneath it all, and yes, worth stating again, sovereign — inherent, implied, implicit, irrefutable, intact, through and through. 

This is what we look at together, talk about together, and remember together in SOVEREIGNTY — my live, 9-week program. An open invitation into all of who you, you as completely yourself; calling you into, up to, forward to your fullest self: all of your wisdom, all of your agency, all of your courage, and endless, endless hope. It’s beautiful. You are. Remember?

Join me.

Registration closes on Monday, 9/6/21. We begin together on 9/9/21. All the details are here (including a payment plan, if helpful).

You ARE sovereign — already and always. I’m right about this. Let’s remember our way back, together.

May it be so.

The Voices in Your Head

Maybe it’s only me, but no matter how long it’s been since some of my less-than-stellar stories took place, I still hear an inner dialogue, an incessant chatter, that keeps droning on.

An example:

I was incredibly insecure as a teenager. I didn’t go to more than a couple dances, wasn’t invited to the weekend parties, and never had a boyfriend. I was convinced that all of this was because I wasn’t good enough, pretty enough, enough-period, to merit any of the privileges that were reserved for those who clearly were good enough, pretty enough, enough-period. (I agree: pretty typical teenage angst.)

Here’s the irony: at the very same time that I bemoaned virtually everything about my life, I was getting straight-A’s, performing in piano competitions, and fulfilling multiple leadership positions at school.

Somehow, the latter didn’t make up for the former. Despite the good things happening around me, to me, even because of me, the “noise” of feeling not enough drowned out nearly everything else.

And that noise was (and is) the story I told myself — over and over again.

Even more ironically, no matter the ways in which my life has changed over the many decades since then, no matter how much data I have accumulated as evidence of my inherent value and worth…

I still hear that voice inside. It still chatters away. It is still a story I tell myself.

Maybe you can relate?

You have your own version(s), I’m sure. Stories you told yourself as a teenager, even younger, and certainly ongoing, that have not remained isolated to those years alone.

The stories we tell ourselves, no matter how long ago, persist, inhabit, and stay. They keep on chattering…

And despite the effort we’ve extended to not give them space or thought or energy, they just. keep. talking.

We believe them: these stories we tell ourselves.

Here’s the thing: I don’t want to be controlled by default, or live a story that is not one I intentionally choose.

And so…

I listen even more closely…

  • What is this story really about? When I pay close attention to the internal dialogue and incessant chatter, what do I actually hear?
  • What beliefs about myself have I formed (and reinforced) because of its presence?
  • Are they actually true?
  • What IS actually true?

Once I am willing to see, name, and acknowledge the stories I’m telling myself, then and only then, can I respond, change, and choose what I’ll hold on to — or not.

I get to choose what I am willing to believe…and what I can now release.

Mareo McKracken said

“Our reality and our actions will always match the story we believe.”

Mmmmm. Indeed. We get to decide about the stories we believe — the ones we’ve been told and the ones we tell ourselves – along with the chatter that accompanies. And then we can just. let. go. and instead, hear our own voice, our endless and infinite wisdom and truth. Ahhhhhhh. 

*****

The ongoing work of looking more closely at stories — those that you’ve been told and those that you tell yourself — is an important part of SOVEREIGNTY: my 9-week program.

I am convinced that those stories are often the very things that determine sovereignty’s absence instead of its presence, that hold you back from being all of who you know yourself to be.

And this is what I want for you! Authenticity. Alignment. Full integrity. EVERY BIT of who you are – showing up in all your amazingness and gloriousness!

May it be so.

I cannot recommend Ronna & SOVEREIGNTY enough. Through the nine weeks together, I rediscovered the Sovereignty that has always existed in me, but was buried through conditioning and fears. Ronna seamlessly weaves structure and a framework, along with ancient, sacred stories of women — some of which I knew, others I didn’t. By reclaiming those stories of silenced women, we learned as participants to reclaim ourselves — to tell our own stories, to claim our own stories, and to claim our sovereignty. Every week I looked especially forward to these stories, which now feel a part of me. There is SO much wisdom through the container that Ronna provides.  Beyond grateful.Tricia Bolender, Executive Coach

All the details are here. Registration closes on Monday, 9/6/21. 

The Power of Childhood Stories

We rarely give a second thought to the stories of our childhood. Fairytales, religious myths, favorite books, legend, lore, or those that just seemed to be “in the water” — the stories of our family, our culture, the systems and structures within which we lived.

But in not thinking about them – and with intention – we are prone to repeat the messages hidden within, often unwittingly, over and over again, no matter how many years have passed since those stories were told. The plots, the protagonists, the antagonists, and the morals/messages remain in our psyche, our way of viewing our world, our very DNA.

An example:

Cinderella. One of my favorite stories growing up – specifically, the Rodgers and Hammerstein version that played on TV only once a year.

The takeaways:

  • You can always count on something magical to make everything better.
  • Everything is better when you are pursued and chosen by a prince.
  • Yes, you feel forgotten, misunderstood, and unseen, but that will change when a prince sees you for who you truly are.
  • Yes, you’re sitting by the cinders, put upon and all alone, but it’s just a matter of time before your fate completely turns around.
  • When you are beautiful, everything changes.
  • Happily Ever After is a thing.

Underneath each of those, exist a few more:

  • Look outside yourself for answers, solutions, and the life you long for.
  • Being chosen by a prince (translate: man) is the penultimate goal; it gives your life meaning and value.
  • Just keep hoping and wishing for things to get better.
  • Buy the makeup, the clothes, play the part: you’ll be noticed, valued, and loved.
  • When you are beautiful, everything changes (Wow, does this one embed!)
  • There is a “someday” that will solve every problem, heal every hurt, and make you whole.

Made manifest in my life:

  • I don’t trust my own wisdom.
  • I see marriage (and the man) as the goal, the aspiration, the answer; he determines my value and worth, my lovability, even my beauty.
  • When things don’t change, I’m convinced that’s because I’m not pretty enough, thin enough, beautiful enough, perfect enough.
  • Because, after all, if I were beautiful, everything would change!
  • I chase the promise of Happily Ever After through relationships, jobs, money, courses and programs, shopping, you name it. I can’t settle into and be satisfied with who I am.

This is but one example! Clearly, I could go through the very same process with Snow White, Hansel and Gretel, and Eve (which I have done, many times).

The stories you’ve been told, even if they were many, many years ago, lodge themselves in your understanding of self, your understanding of the world around you.

You don’t have to think directly about Cinderella to have her show up in your deepest beliefs, your most painful insecurities, or your hopes for your future. (Bibbidi, bobbidi, boop!)

I have no critique of Cinderella. In fact, years later, I watched the Disney version of the musical with my girls — over and over again. Brandy replaced Leslie Anne Warren, Whoopie Goldberg played the queen, and Bernadette Peters was the wicked stepmother. It’s less about the story itself and more about a closer look at ourselves via the stories.

When you name and acknowledge the stories you’ve been told, you can unravel them enough to then proactively weave the story you desire and deserve.

Consciously. Intentionally. With agency and sovereignty and will.

You are shaped by the stories you’ve been told. Fairytales. Bedtime stories. Bible stories. Disney. Nickelodeon. Netflix. Novels. Around-the-table talk of family. The over-story of your predominant culture (patriarchy, racism, misogyny, colonialism, capitalism, etc.)

Knowing them, looking at them, and then choosing what serves and what does not, makes all the difference. The stories that make you you are worth your every effort. YOU are worth your every effort! Always.

*******

I believe that the stories we’ve been told (and the ones we tell ourselves) are almost single-handedly responsible for sovereignty’s absence. Its presence is what you deserve. Join me for SOVEREIGNTY — my live, 9-week program.

All the details are here. Registration closes on 9/6/21.

This program was way more and way better and way deeper healing than I knew to ask for. Though I had an idea it would be awesome, what I got was a gift I didn’t know to ask for, much less receive.  I’m so grateful I said, “yes.” ~ Sheri M.

SOVEREIGNTY was a “yes” for me because I wanted the opportunity to learn from Ronna. The most valuable impact from the 9 weeks was being able to acknowledge that in many, many ways I already am sovereign; that I contain all the necessary components. Jennie Alexis, Values Leader

No imagination required…

There’s a story I love to tell of a mostly unknown woman named Jael. She singlehandedly won a huge battle for a whole tribe of people by doing the most unlikely and shocking thing. In the thick of the fighting, she offered the enemy commander (who was sneaking away) a safe place to hide, made him comfortable, and then, as he slept, drove a tent peg through his head and killed him. 

It’s a violent story, to be sure. (Which explains why it’s rarely told.) But just imagine if it had been, if she was known; if she was known by you…

  • Imagine if you had been been lulled to sleep by the tale of a shockingly brave woman who overcame every fear and did what had to be done – no matter what others thought, expected, or allowed.
  • Imagine if you’d had a model, a template, a subconscious plot line within that invited and compelled courage, boldness, and strength.
  • Imagine if it never crossed your mind to choose being good over being right.
  • Imagine if you had no idea what seen-not-heard even meant.
  • Imagine if  you never compromised yourself on behalf of another.
  • Imagine if no part of you held back, played it safe, or waited to be invited into the, arena onto the stage, or out of the shadows. 

Hard to imagine, isn’t it? 

What if it wasn’t? What if we just knew who we were – our strength, our wisdom, our  divinity, our sovereignty? No questions asked. No doubt. No wondering. Clear. Certain. Sure. Solid. 100% ourselves.

This is, at least in part, why stories like Jael’s matter. She moves us from *simply* imagining that kind of strength and courage to actually acknowledging it – to living it.

So, no imagination required – hear Jael’s voice on your behalf:

This I know – no imagination required: You are braver, stronger, and wiser than anyone knows, than even you know. 

This I know – no imagination required: You fight for what you love, for what matters most, for your very self – as your hands shake and your voice trembles and your heart races. Still and always – brave, strong, and wise. Still and always – bringing victory and peace. Still and always – worthy of endless song and celebration. 

This I know – no imagination required: I am Jael and you are my daughter, my lineage, my kin. 

She knows of what she speaks…

May it be so.

***** 

This I know – no imagination required: You are surrounded and supported, held and honored by more than just Jael. (Though she’s something, isn’t she?) Countless ancient, sacred women with stories and voices that remind you of who you truly are: brave, strong, and wise. Sovereign.  

I retell, reimagine, and redeem these stories – Jael’s and many more – in SOVEREIGNTY – my live, 9-week program. And companioning the stories is powerful and practical content about hearing and trusting your own wisdom, acknowledging your agency, stepping into courage, and holding on to hope. Every bit of this on behalf of you being 100% yourself, 100% of the time. No imagination required!

Registration is open for the cohort that begins in early September. Learn more. Apply today. Join me!