A Special Kind of Influence

I’ve been feeling like my job as an educator has corralled me. Funny that it’s also the Year of the Fire Horse.

I want my influence to be greater than trying to convince teens of all the amazing things in the world around them. Their brains, in so many ways, just aren’t ready yet. They’re still growing, still figuring out their lives, all while being herded this way and that by their hormones. And then there are the parents… but that’s a story for another time.

All of these feelings I’m having are probably pretty normal, considering I’ve been teaching for three decades.

I’ve been craving a greater influence—or at the very least, not being told how or what to do.

My feelings were affirmed.

They were affirmed by two lovely women—one in the morning and one in the evening. One in her forties, one in her thirties.

In the morning

Charity and I met for coffee on a very cold February morning—our fourth time meeting.

The first time was at an arts festival, where she purchased my book My List My Rules: The Year a Checklist Changed My Life. The second time was the following year at the same festival. She invited me out for a drink and a hangout. The third was our first official friend date, where we both drank matcha lattes and talked about everything we had in common. And there was a lot!

She told me she was inspired by my life and my story—my desire for adventure. That meant a lot. It felt like I had taught something outside of the corral.

Last week was our fourth visit. She told me about traveling solo to Ireland to see two bands she loves. She told me about an all-inclusive equine adventure in Argentina—something that made her feel like the most her she’s been in a long time. I love that for her.

She’s a somatic therapist and wants to incorporate horses into her healing work. And interestingly, her somatic instructor was actually my therapist.

She told me she has me to thank for exploring a life that has opened up into some really incredible experiences. Her words.

This is teaching—the kind where you point and say, here is something you might learn from.

In this case, it was my book that showed her there is so much to explore. The only real requirement is the word yes.

In the evening

My friendship with Jenn began when she was my student. I was her high school art teacher. We stayed connected after she graduated. She’s in her thirties now.

I actually have her to thank for the title of my book.

When I launched it, I invited her. Of course she came. And then she came back—and bought more. And more. She’s truly a number one fan.

After reading the book, she told me she felt like it was time for her to go.

I walked with her—literally, through weekly walks in the park—and metaphorically, as she figured out how to transition her life into something more adventurous.

She sold everything and moved to Mexico with her dog.

Every detail was considered. Leases signed. Logistics figured out. Even her dog’s life was accounted for.

Now she lives in Mexico. Her life feels peaceful and bright.

Last night she sent me photos of paintings she’s working on for a show and sale there.

WOW.

All I can say is good for her.

But she says thank you to me.

And I am so overjoyed that I could have that kind of influence—to help someone live their life in a way that feels true to them. To curate it step by step into something meaningful. Into a life where they become the most themselves they can be.

Teacher

When I was younger, I wanted to be influential in a way that truly made a difference.

I think I have been—as much as I could, within the formal institution of education. But what I’m discovering is that the real impact happens beyond the walls of a school.

That’s where learning lives. I think learning just visits school.

Is it a place called life? Maybe.
Or maybe it’s just called ready.

Either way, I feel like my influence—and my year of 101 adventures—has made a positive impact.

I’m grateful. And so are a couple of my friends.

William Styron once said, “A great book should leave you with many experiences, and slightly exhausted at the end. You live several lives while reading.”

And sometimes—just sometimes—it makes you want to go live your own.

As always, thank you for reading, Lovelies.