Do You

My greatest "competitors" are people who can do things that, as of yet, I absolutely suck at.

So what's the fuss?

Why bother trying so hard to be cool by being like the cool kids you admire?

Be a goofus. Be YOURSELF. Know that your nerdiest passion is what makes you awesome.

Likely your "competitors" aren't half as brilliant as you are in your field of passion or expertise.

And if they are, that too becomes completely acceptable.

You find that, crazily enough, no matter how goofy or imperfect you perceive yourself to be, people come to you because you are YOU.

So never lose that.

The challenge of stepping into our power?

Not allowing ego to creep in.

Trust me, you're great. REALLY great.

But that potential is unique to no one, and as Great as someone is in their field, as Great as you can be in yours.

Take even the most "broken" person you can fathom.

Somewhere too is the fact of their brief stage as a newborn baby, born without hatred or malice.

The blank canvas of a bright-eyed baby.

All of us have that "light" inside us—life.

To me, it is both as factual and matter-of-fact as a scientist may label and as miraculous as the greatest fanatic raves on about.

Life is paradoxical, black AND white.

Black (the collusion of ALL) and White (the transparency of NONE) and every imaginable shade in between.

There are these hints that seem to be the discovery of God.

As many of history's greatest Atheists, I too am a spiritual being in wonder of the Universe I was born within.

What? Why? How?

The existencial wonderments of life.

I write about the superstitions (spirituality on the Schaffter side, religion on my mother's) and what did it all boil down to?

"Don't throw the baby out with the bath water!"

I felt that I MUST be a leader for millennials.

As an ageist only child, I have grown up most comfortable with those decades wiser and experienced.

The reality of marrying a wonderful man nearly seven years my senior, my best girlfriends already past their thirtieth birthdays.

I'm still in my twenties. Holy shit.

What a blessing, and at times, a former incredible curse.

To be on the receiving side of people doubting your age.

See: The Story of Frank

In the corridor of an immaculate mansion: my boss, a man thirty+ years my senior, half a foot or so shorter than I.

I looked down at the well-dressed man.

He listened daily to Rush Limbaugh. He frequently referred to me endearingly as "Hippie Chick."

What would you write about anyway?

A few weeks later

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