Promise #13: Give your gut-o-meter the attention it deserves

May, 11 2010
By Tracey
Moxie
2 Comments

My youngest son’s first sentence was, “They bite.”

He was sitting in the back of a double stroller. We just started our walk when I noticed a turtle wiggling its hind legs into the mulch. I stopped the stroller and leaned down to take a very close look when Henry belted out, “Daaaaaayyyyy BITE!” He was two-and-a-half years old.

I remember standing there for a moment, trapped between the peculiarity of my baby’s first sentence and that of the turtle-monster’s ugly beak face, spiked tail and clawed feet. What was all that?

It turns out that was two very interesting things:

a snapping turtle preparing to lay her eggs
a glimpse of Henry’s budding gut instinct

Yikes. Where the heck was my gut instinct? It took me ten minutes to find a matching picture of that turtle online, yet it only took Henry ten seconds to figure out his mommy was about to lose her face.

Thankfully, I didn’t lose face that day. I have, admittedly, lost face many times by allowing my brain to override my gut. Have you done this? Muffled your gut with reasons and facts? Explanations and experiences? Errors and judgments?

It’s really silly, when you think about it. We’re all programmed with a gut-o-meter. It effortlessly runs on trust and attention. You can follow it as often as you wish without applying reason, digging for facts or formulating explanations. It’s (almost) always right. And even if it leads you astray, the experience rarely bites as much as over-exploring every avenue and then making a wrong turn.

Promise #11: Identify your lifeline

May, 06 2010
By Tracey
Faith
One comment

You don’t need a ticket to Who Wants To Be A Millionaire to identify your lifeline. After all, this is the person guaranteed to save your butt, right? Don’t you need to know at all times who that person is? Damn straight you do.

Your lifeline, hereafter referred to as LL, must complement your brainpower. Weak in common sense? Your LL must have wicked street smarts. Unable to find your way out of a paper bag? Your LL must be a walking GPS. Bit of wallflower? You need an LL that can work the room. Get it?

Let’s whittle the remaining assessment process down to four very simple questions:

Who doesn’t send you chain emails? This person is void of ill will which is why they don’t ask you to forward ridiculous or, as Bill Maher would say, religulous emails to a set number of friends in exchange for a year of good luck, three wishes or—the ever famous—money from Bill Gates.
Who understands your need for understanding? This person listens when you need to be heard and then invents sound support points to make you feel like a genius when you’re clearly being an idiot.
Who knows your favorite drink? There will be more than one time in your life when you just need one and the keeper of this information will always make sure your glass is half full of something you truly enjoy whether it’s apple juice or an appletini.
Who fills in the blanks for you? S/he introduces themselves to the nut that you’re talking to because they know you have no idea who it is; finishes the occasional incoherent sentence with a nod and a wink; and/or whisks you away from trouble the minute they notice that dang magnetic attraction between your foot and your mouth kicking into gear.

Got it? Good. This is your LL—willing to leap tall buildings in exchange for nothing at all. Everybody has at least one. Finding (and hanging onto) yours will help you feel like a million bucks.