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The rejection was written in less than 144 characters:

Not Interested (STOP).

Like a tweet or a modern-day telegram.

I stare at the words, my mind spooling backward to earlier in the day:  Asheville crowded with summer tourists, a confused woman in a blue Camry in the wrong lane. I opened a gap in the relentless traffic on Merrimon Avenue and let her through. She plowed forward, oblivious to everything but her own panicked disorientation. Where’s my wave? I thought.

I wave at the hopeful part of me, the part that really wanted this, and give myself an hour for sad and disconsolate.

Not Interested (STOP).

One hour.

‘Cause if I know anything, it’s this: wallowing in the dirty water of your failure only gets you a bladder infection. It’s a good way to waste a life.

I could break your heart (and you could break mine) with stories of our rejections, our failures, our almost-rans and not-quite-good-enoughs.

But hear me on this:

Failure is fuel. Burn it like jet propellant straightening your spine and sparking perseverance. Click To Tweet

Let it ignite your desire.

And then you do what desire dictates: you move toward this thing you love. This thing that drives you. You find a back door, an open window, a never-before-used path.

You re-find your self-faith by putting one foot in front of the other and recreating your world.

Twelve hours later I have 3 new proposals sent.

This is success.

Tell me about a triumph. Tell me about a time (past, or present, or future) when failure fueled you forward. Comments are below!

Big Hugs—

 

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