The Spirits of the Second Stall

It was my second day in New York City, and I was immersed in a crowd of nervous hopefuls. 100 authors and experts, all eager to get publicity, were jammed into a large hotel ballroom, lining up to meet the nation’s top TV producers, radio hosts, and print media editors. When our number was called, we had two and half minutes to convince each one that they wanted to see us again. It was like speed dating at the DMV.

My day had been going pretty well. Several radio and newspaper folks expressed interest in what I wanted to share, and my throat was getting less dry each time I spoke. But when I approached two of the top TV shows on my list, both shot me down, one woman quite rudely. Instantly, I lost my center. I was exhausted from the stress of the past several weeks and lack of sleep from the past few days. The room was abuzz with competition and fear. I had to get out of there, but where could I go? The hallway was as congested as the ballroom. The hotel lobby was even worse. There was only one possible place to escape.

As I walked into the ladies’ room, I instantly felt drawn to the second stall. I closed the door and exhaled. Immediately, a stillness fell around me, like the peace I always feel while out in nature. My Native friends call it “communing with the spirits.”

There were definitely spirits in here; I could feel their calming presence. Finally, I could hear myself think. More precisely, I could stop thinking and hear my deeper voice within. I shut my eyes and leaned against the wall. I chuckled as I imagined what the women outside must be thinking when they saw a pair of feet pointing sideways, but frankly, I didn’t care.

Continuing to take slow, deep breaths, I stopped my brain from frantically planning my next moves and reminded myself why I had come to this publicity summit in the first place. My life purpose is to help people shine – to stop settling for less at work, in their relationships, and with their health and to live even more fully if their lives are good but not incredible. Getting in the media spotlight was a powerful way to help even more people, but it was just the vehicle, not the ultimate goal. I didn’t care about being famous. I came to Serve.

Glancing down, I noticed gratefully that my hands had stopped shaking. I flushed the toilet, a lame attempt to justify why I had been in there so long. Before walking out, I mouthed a silent farewell.

I re-entered the chaos for my last three auditions. Tossing aside my carefully rehearsed lines, I decided to just be myself, joking around and chatting. All three said mine was the best pitch they’d heard all day.

At the end of the day, I passed by the bathroom. “Thank you, Spirits of the Second Stall,” I smiled.

© 2012 by Laurie Gardner