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My first memory of success

I had a time in my life when I spent my days intimately involved with a small group of people who were utterly and completely dedicated to personal development and understanding–best folks could–the mysteries of the universe.

It was a divine time. And while a challenging one, I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Their dedication, commitment, respect, perseverance and love was otherworldly compared to anything I had experienced; they were genuine, kind, thoughtful, smart and grabbing life by the horns, as folks say. And with them I found tribe and connection as I never had before.

During one particular period when we were together, I was having a slew of challenges with my own development, my confidence, my ability to grasp at some of the concepts they were downloading and integrating, and with my own belief and trust in myself.

let’s look

I don’t recall the whole of the experience, but I do remember one of my clan taking me aside and asking if he could work with me on my will and determination. I said, yes. 

He sat with me, quietly, and asked me to retrieve my first memory of success. “When was the first time I had confidence and knew that I could accomplish something?” he asked me. I sat and thought and thunk. Nothing was coming up. 

I often felt at a disadvantage with this small group of intelligent-in-many-ways people as they did mind clearing exercises–both together and alone. I remember many of these exercises required complex visualizations. I had never been very good at that kind of work. And my relationship to memory at that time in my life had, at that time, been barely functional, but not a very rich, part of my life.

let’s look a little deeper

He asked me to go deeper. To find this memory, and then in a flash, it happened. The memory came forth. I saw it! And I did not simply see my first success, I felt it surge throughout my whole being. And I began to smile and laugh. 

I saw myself stand. For the first time. Yes, I was holding onto something, but I stood. Me. On my two feet. Upright. And in that moment, my world had changed forever, going from a quadruped to a bipedal being. Oh, for sure, I had many more muscles to build, coordination to develop and tumbles to make before I’d be standing confidently and consistently on my own two feet unassisted. But I had stood. And, in that moment, I had been successful.

look what i can do

The memory shocked me. I had expected something more particular to me, something that I, Jessie Newburn, had done. Perhaps some memory later in life when I was more formed as a personality and person and when the memory was more “mine.”  But, no, it was a memory that most all humans experience. It was an utterly grand moment and an utterly grand feeling of success.

Baby steps, as they say. Baby steps.