Give It Up Bubble-Lady

I considered putting this blog on the one we have set up for the magazine, but nobody reads that. Probably because we don't put anything on it.

The bulk of my time right now is magazine related. Brainstorming, contemplating, giving feedback, editing, researching, building contacts, interviewing and many other things have all been part of the process. These days it is selling ad space. I think Marketing may be the first position we fill when we start hiring . . . after the Accountant, obviously. And, maybe, our Personal Assistant.

I admittedly, and willingly, live in a bubble. I have often requested that others carefully navigate this bubble because I don't want it to pop. In this bubble, selling ad space was easy. One glance of our vision and people would gladly jump aboard! With my eyes opened to reality last week, selling ad space is time consuming, unsure and way more important then we intended it to be. After not getting the grants we applied for, and wanting to do this free of debt, ad space became our main source of initial income. Yikes.

In order to have the money we need to print, we have to have 3 of 7 alloted spaces sold. Or lots of people willing to pay for subscriptions before they ever see anything. We have one of those willing people, but his $13.00 will print about 10 magazines. Not exactly our first run quota.

Friday afternoon I sat at Agia Sophia, unmotivated and easily distracted. I had let the pressure get to me. By the end of the time I was so frustrated I packed everything up (carelessly leaving my computer cord behind) and drove home, tension filling my shoulders as I rehashed my inefficient hours. And then it hit me. I had to give it up. All of it.

We have never intended the magazine to be "ours". It is a labor of love, a tool, a vehicle that will, hopefully and prayerfully, bring awareness and change. It is not a prison, not mine to control, not a work of only my hands. I had to give it back and give it up.

So Friday afternoon, when I wanted to sit down and try again, I loaded everything into my closet and vowed not to touch it or think about it for the weekend. Sort of a passion fast. I had to give up what I was holding so tightly to I was about to kill it. And breathe.

So I prayed and released gradually, as sometimes is necessary, and felt the tension ease out of my shoulders as I realized, again, that my feeble attempts will never be enough. I must, and will, let it go before I ruin it.

In all of my letting go I had another reminder seep into consciousness - thankfulness. Time and time again I have to be reminded that being thankful puts everything into perspective. I want to be considered a thankful person, but it is easy to let it slip. It feels so much less powerful then doing and striving and proving. Thankfulness is like the secret code that gets you into the inner room. The key. Without it, all is hidden behind a veil and no matter how much you knock or pound, nothing will open until you utter the deep, heartfelt words of thanks.

I may be back to ad space and editing today, but in my fingers I know it is a different energy. Not one I am pushing out and running low on, but that which is in never-ending supply. I love that I get to live my dream job, enjoy Mondays and conference calls and too many emails. May this house be built on sweat and faith, not just sweat.