Who’s to blame for this crazy adventure?

I’ve had more than a few people try to peg this trip and my quitting my job on the Tony Robbins seminars I attended, the most recent of which, I won, and took place in Fiji (you can read my long re-telling of how I won the $10K course here).  

Well, I won’t go so far as to say the seminars had nothing to do with it, but if we want to really put the blame where it belongs, let’s do it right:

 

  • I blame my parents for instilling an entrepreneurial spark in me and several (if not all) of my siblings.
  • I blame the piles of books I’ve read over the last 10 years, and all of the underlining and the “wow! Yes!”’s squeezed into the margins of those books.
  • I blame my 2002 Counselor In Training (CIT) summer counselors for giving each of us a journal at the start of the summer, and the pledge I made to myself to write each day.
    • I also blame the 32+ journals I’ve written since then (actually they deserve a lot of the blame). 
  • I blame every entrepreneur or artist out there who inspired/inspires me. All of them.
  • I blame people who are out there being pro’s--like Elizabeth Gilbert, Steven Pressfield, Gary Vaynerchuk, Simon Sinek, Seth Godin, Marie Forleo, Lewis Howes, and Sean Malarkey. And I blame them for giving us wily upstarts permission to listen to our own little voices in our heads.
  • I blame the silly voice inside me that quietly (and persistently) told me something like this might be possible...maybe.
  • I blame myself for not being able to settle into the “get a good job and be happy” routine, even if it did happen to be in Santa Barbara.
  • I blame the savings I saved and invested over the past 8ish years, that is allowing me to run amok all over this beautiful country.
  • I blame my uncontrollable NEED to write when things go right and when things go wrong (so, basically, all the time).
  • I blame my parents for grounding me to my room so many times when I was little--but more than that, I blame the books and the stuffed animals in my room for causing me to LOVE being grounded each and every time (ugh, stupid fluffy teddy bears...). 
  • I blame the woods, where I spent lots of time exploring as a little kid, cultivating my sense of wonder and curiosity.
  • I blame myself for enjoying being alone with my thoughts.
  • I blame the nights of tears and sniffling phone calls and journaling when I realized that all the trappings of the “job”--the benefits, the working with a great team and celebrity chefs, the video production, art direction, and gym membership that somehow couldn’t fill me up.
  • I blame my wonderful mom for instilling in me a sense of approval since I was little, and for encouraging me to build relationships throughout school instead of stressing over grades.
  • I blame my mom for passing on, and showing me the utter fragility of life on this plane of existence--and how senseless it is to waste it doing something other than what you were created to do.
  • I blame my dad for showing me that you are never too old (too stuck, too whatever) to make a change.
  • I blame my inability to continue at a job when I knew I was not, and no could longer genuinely give of my whole self, and my inability to settle with “good enough.”
  • I blame my garage sale for keeping me stuck, stooped in my doorway for a weekend, so all I could do is write blog posts like this one.
  • I blame myself for not knowing any better (or even if I did, not listening to that knowing).
  • I blame all those damn inspirational quotes that tell you to believe in yourself and to chase your dreams (...stupid quotes). 

 

...I clearly could go on for a while. But I think you get the point.