Moving Past No

Today, in Elizabeth Mosier's class at Bryn Mawr College, I told stories about all those times the world has said no to me.  No, this book will never sell.  No, your writing sings too slow a song.  No you can't combine this with this other and hope to achieve that.  No, you can't make up a genre and expect that it will sell.  No, you can't color outside the lines.  No, we don't like the way you've colored within them.  No, we won't hire you for that job.  No, I do not wish to know you.  No, I will not continue the friendship that only last week we appeared to be having.  It happens often where I live; it doesn't matter how many books I've published or how many client projects fill my cabinet drawers or how much I think I've learned about relationships.  And it doesn't only happen to me.  All of us, on one day or another, are looking no-ness in the eye. 

I started gardening a few years ago, and the no's started hurting less.  Then I started dancing, and a greater easiness set in.  I got into the habit of daily counting my blessings, and the no-ness became an even dimmer ache; I would not let it paralyze me.

Late this afternoon, I came upon the following words on MSNBC.com, and I thought at once that I must share them with you.  The story is about the ways in which bottled anger can actually damage your heart, and the words are these:  Anger can strangle blood flow in the heart and lead to abnormal heart rhythms, and has been linked to an increased risk of heart disease.  

I have to think that bottled heartache can do the same.  My message with this post is simple, then:  Learn from the no's what you can, and then move past them.  Keep your own heart in tact; let it beat free.