PART II: What 4-inch Heels Will Do to a Woman's Belief

Last week I wrote a post about recognizing when things shift out of alignment and the power of letting go.  I even went so far as to say that letting go is a skill that gets easier the more you do it.

So, you can imagine my amusement when the physical plane served me up a curve ball that challenged my belief…in 4 inch heels no less.

It all went down when I went to see my girl, Terra Naomi perform at The Hotel Cafe. The Hotel Café is a tiny music venue filled with serious music people sitting at little round tables sipping bourbon and nodding their heads quietly to the music. Thinking I’d be able to check out the show from one of those little tables, I decided to rock my tall boots. It was my birthday weekend, after all.

When I arrived, the place was packed and I heard all the seats were taken. I found my friends who’d scored a few tall stools beside a bar table in the far back. When the opening band finished, they decided to abandon the seats in a bid for a better view. I wanted to get close too, but suddenly my feet started to get anxiety about standing on concrete in heels for an entire show.

 

To Hang On or Let Go? That was the question.

 

My rational mind wanted me to cling to the sure thing and sit on one of the stools that just opened up. I doubted my inner wisdom that told me to let go; instead I attempted to control the situation by dragging the vacant stool through the crowd, and positioned it next to a support beam (where I told myself it was camouflaged) and got comfy.

 

In less than a minute a woman ushered me out of my seat. “Standing room only in this area,” she said, less than pleased. Apologizing, I sheepishly, I returned the chair to its rightful place.

 

After a few minutes of standing, with almost no view of the stage, cursing my boots, I crouched forward to check out the smaller tables in front and see if maybe there was one, lone, stray seat-stool-bench-pew-ottoman I could rest my bones on.

 

I spied two empty seats with jackets slung across them, and took another step forward to find out if they were indeed taken.

 

“Seats are taken,” he said unapologetically.

 

Rejection.

 

And just as I was about to turn and accept my defeat, an entire table in the very front row got up and left, and I was able to snag the entire table.  I couldn’t help but to smile at the spiritual truth that just played out before me.

 

Had I succumbed to my fears and held onto the sure thing, I’d still be sitting in the back of the room by myself.

 

If I believed what I thought I knew to be true (that all the seats were taken), my feet would be aching in the standing room only area.

 

Because I was willing to let go, I was rewarded with literally the best seat in the house surrounded by all my friends.

 

Now if that’s not a metaphor for life, I don’t know anything about anything!

 

As I embark on this 36th year of my life, I know a couple things to be true:

1. While it can be really damn painful sometimes, I find time and again, rejection is actually redirection to something better. (If you dig it Tweet it!)

2. There are simply no coincidences.  My night at The Hotel Cafe (on my birthday weekend) reminded me to trust myself, and as long I’m willing to let go, a seat will always open up for me in the front row.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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