I was on a coaching call with my client Neil. He was complaining. He wasn’t fired up about anything. He couldn’t remember how to have fun anymore. He wasn’t doing anything that gave his life some sense of meaning. (BTW Neil isn’t his real name)

He was going on and on until I stopped him with a question…

“Hey Neil, what do you want?”

“Huh?” he said.

“If a genie popped out of a bottle, would you be able to tell him what you truly wanted? Are you prepared for that opportunity?”

He was dumbfounded. It seems so simple — to know what we want. But Neil had honed his ability to bitch and moan instead of grooming his list of desires.

The result? Neil wasn’t leading his life.

He’s not alone. It’s one of the reasons why so many of us feel lost. We don’t know what the hell we want! How can we possibly expect to feel satisfied or fulfilled?

Do we really believe that we can blindly walk into a restaurant (aka The Universe) and get a satisfying, fulfilling meal by having everyone else figure out what we want for us?

(Cue game-show loser buzzing sound)

Which begs the question — Why is it so hard to know what we want?

My theory is that “owning” what we want can be scary. We can get our hopes up and then get shot down. We can be rejected. Judged. Pooped on.

For many guys, it’s easier (and safer) to simply go with the flow and take whatever comes along instead of plotting their own course. It’s easier to give the reins to everyone else.

Knowing what you want in a given situation is the key to being the leader of your life.

Neil was ready to take this leadership role. He was tired of mindlessly going with the flow. He could see that it was his responsibility to tap into what he wanted. And I mean what he really wanted — beyond a cold beer after mowing the yard or the swimsuit edition springing to life in the shower.

I walked Neil through a simple and fun process to clarify what would light him up in every area of his life. As a result we had the building blocks for a measurable, tangible vision.

He was relieved to find that in some ways his ideal life was very close. And in others there was work to be done. As his coach, I’m now holding him accountable to do the things *he* is choosing to do to close the gap.

Neil is now out of the fog. He’s no longer bitching and moaning and complaining. He’s actually doing something about it and having fun in the process. He’s leading his life.

So…

What about you?

Are you bitching and moaning and complaining?

Are you ready to clarify what you truly want?

Are you ready to close the gap between where you are and where you’d really like to be?

If so, click here to fill out a coaching questionnaire and we’ll start this process today.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Remember to have fun,

Tripp

“I’m stuck. I’m scared. I’ve got to do something but I just don’t know what to do.”

Sound familiar?

This was what my client Truman was saying to me recently. (BTW Truman is not his real name.)

He’d been stuck for a while. He needed to make a change, but at every turn it seemed there were no options. He was exhausted and becoming jaded.

He wanted a plan. And most of all he wanted a guarantee that it would work. He didn’t have time, energy or money to waste.

There was a sense that this *had* to work. But he had no idea what *this* was.

As I listened to him, I noticed that something felt off to me. I noticed that ideas he had previously considered seemed to instantaneously get shot down. There was an inner-critic and an inner-protector hard at work.

So I asked him, “What are you really afraid of?”

After a bit of back and forth he finally said, “I don’t want to look weak. I don’t want to be mediocre. I don’t want to be criticized. I don’t want to fail.”

We both exhaled. Ahhhhhhhhh … the truth!

It wasn’t that Truman didn’t have any ideas. He just believed he didn’t have any GREAT ideas. And if his ideas weren’t great then he was vulnerable to failure and criticism.

He believed a great idea — the perfect idea — would remove the risk. That’s quite a theory, huh?

This need to be perfect was killing his creativity. It was killing his ability to find a solution. It was keeping him stuck.

So what could he do?

I asked him to consider being bold. He sat up straighter in his seat.

“Would the bold version of you let the possibility of criticism stop you?”

“No.”

“Would the bold version of you measure yourself by someone else’s yardstick or have the guts to use your own?”

A smile came across his face.

“I’d have the guts to just do my thing.” We were both getting excited now. This was fun.

It seems that by trying not to look weak, we end up looking weak.

It takes real strength, real courage to simply do your thing. Whatever that may be. Even if it invites criticism from others. Even if it appears less than great.

It’s delusional to think we’ll be perfect right out of the gate (or ever). It takes time, practice, patience and persistence to make progress. Much like our days as a toddler, we will fall down during the learning process.

So why not be bold? Why not do it anyway?

Truman now prefers to be bold rather than wait on the sidelines. When he falls down, he gets up and tries again.

Today, he and I are focusing his time and energy so he gets the most from his efforts. He does a little bit everyday. He doesn’t get overwhelmed. And fear no longer has a death grip on his creative process.

There’s no more waiting for the perfect time or perfect idea. He’s in motion. He no longer feels the terrible frustration of being stuck.

What about you?

Are you on the sidelines? Are you waiting for the perfect idea? The perfect time?

If so, let’s talk. Click here to fill out a coaching questionnaire and we’ll explore what’s possible for you.

Remember to have fun,

Tripp

PS A new episode of The New Man is coming soon! Stay tuned.

My coaching client, Joe was feeling stuck.

He was changing careers and had no idea about where to go next. He was scared and very frustrated. (BTW, Joe is not his real name)

In previous sessions, we had revealed that Joe was passionate about empowering others while working outside, using his hands. This is where he felt alive and valuable.

However, there was a mysterious force pulling him towards the “corporate” jobs — Wearing a tie. Fluorescent lighting. Titles. Hierarchies. Office politics.

Which is fine for a lot of folks, but Joe was in his thirties and had never had a “suit” job before. He just wasn’t that type of guy. This didn’t line up with his passion.

I got curious. Continue Reading