Before the First Scroll

It was January, 2004. I was living in New Mexico in the first apartment I had ever lived in alone. I loved that apartment; partly because it was so cute and simple, partly because I found it and lived in it, all on my own. I remember the most unique (the only unique) feature of this apartment was the mirrors. One whole wall in the living room was floor to ceiling mirrors. Not the slightly yellowed, slightly warped, 70s trashy mirrors… no, these were bright, clear, clean mirrors that enhanced the new carpet and freshly painted walls. My bedroom closet doors were also sliding mirrors. All of this glass certainly expanded the size of my $465 a month living space.

I was about to start my second semester of graduate school. My boyfriend at the time, who was just about to graduate from college, had come down from Minnesota to visit me for a long weekend before winter break ended for both of us.

It was Saturday night, his last night in town before he left the next morning, and we were on our way out to Johnny Carino’s, a new restaurant that had just opened down the street. I had already eaten there several times … mainly because of their bread. Their bread was AMAZING. I would eat three loaves of that bread before I had even opened the menu. Best. Bread. Ever. (This was BEFORE Texas Roadhouse opened – they REALLY have the best bread).

I was in my bedroom digging through my closet with the mirrors on the doors. It was one of those evenings where I could not find a single thing I was in the mood to wear. I didn’t want to wear jeans because this was supposed to be “fancy” (and plus they didn’t fit). I didn’t want to wear a short skirt because it was a little chilly out (and plus it didn’t fit). I had a pink sweater in the closet that didn’t quite look right.. too pink (and plus it didn’t fit).

I pulled out some charcoal gray pants that I had purchased at the Mall of America when I was in MN for Christmas. They were size 12, but that really didn’t mean anything BAD because I had purchased them at a “junior-ish” store where all of the sizes were a little off … (Maurices ... definitely NOT a juniors store).

These would be perfect.

I pulled them on … well, I tried. After a bit of an aerobic workout, I finally pulled them all the way up my legs and to my waist. I groaned and squeezed and clenched and willed the pants to clasp. Poor charcoal pants, when they finally DID clasp, they visibly showed the stress they were under. They stretched and puckered across my hips. They squished and squeezed my butt. The only place there was any extra fabric was in the only place I didn’t need it … in the length. Yes these pants extended a full four inches past my ankles.

I looked at myself in the mirrored door of my bedroom closet. It wasn’t pretty… It was war. But similar to when the United States invaded Kuwait sometime in the early 90s, it was over before it even started. The pants won.

It is a wonder, really, with mirrors everywhere, that I didn’t notice my rapidly growing waistline, or the increased amount of “junk” in my “trunk” before this moment.

I collapsed, sobbing and defeated, to the new carpet in my apartment bedroom. I cried and cried and when my boyfriend came into the room to ask what was the matter, I cried even harder. I didn’t want to tell him that I was fat – just in case he hadn’t figured it out yet. I instead told him I didn’t have anything to wear, and that everyone was going to look at me at Johnny Carino’s and make fun of the girl who doesn’t have a single cute outfit (that fits) in her entire closet.

He, of course, told me I was beautiful. Told me to put on some sweat pants, he would pick up a pizza and a movie and we would enjoy each other in the comfort of my sweet little apartment.

A few minutes later he left to pick up the pizza and movies. It was just me in my apartment. Suddenly the apartment I loved became cruel game in which I was merely a (chubby) pawn. Everywhere I turned there were mirrors waiting to show me the me I had been choosing to ignore when I made Pizza Rolls in the middle of the night, or spooned up a tub of Ben & Jerry’s every time I had to read a chapter (keep in mind … I was in grad school – all you do is read chapters). I threw on my sweats and sat on the futon staring squarely forward where there was no mirror, no facing reality. Just the television.

Fortunately Blockbuster wasn’t far, and the boyfriend returned before there were anymore breakdowns. We ate pizza, watched the first two installments of XMen, and went to bed. The next morning I dropped him off at the airport. When I returned home, the mirrors were waiting.

I decided I couldn’t hide from them forever… I had to know the truth.

I went into the bathroom. Wiped the dust off the scale, and stepped on.

156.

I am 5’4”.

156 is not good.

I looked up from the scale... only to be face to face with yet another mirror. I saw myself for the first time and knew that enough was enough. I must change.
----

In a recent interview Tony Robbins, personal growth guru, become awesome expert, super-hero-ify yourself maniac said (oh so wisely I might add): in order for your resolutions to become realities, your "shoulds" have to become "musts."

From 'I should pay off my credit card' to 'I must pay off my credit card.'
From 'I should be nicer to my spouse' to 'I must be nicer to my spouse.'
From 'I should become a great author' to 'I must become a great author.'

From my experience, the distance from 'should' to 'must' is a span of time, desire, determination, and discipline. Some people cover that distance quickly, for others it takes longer but one thing is constant: no one ever creates reality out of resolutions without consistent, unstoppable effort. For this reason some ... never make it.
----

The story of the Greatest Salesman in the World (according to Kindra) starts with a young camelboy. This camelboy has been working for quite some time, for the Greatest Salesman in the World. He travels with the Salesman, and many of the Salesman's salesmen from city to city. The camelboy tends the camels while the salesmen sell. For the most part things have been going pretty well for this camelboy; he likes his boss, he isn't mistreated, and he enjoys the exciting bustle of the cities to which the Greatest Salesman and his crew travel. Perhaps the camelboy daydreams about one day becoming a salesman, maybe he thinks of it from time to time. He might have even listed it as one of his new year's resolutions. He never, however, took any serious action.

Then one day, the camelboy meets a girl.

She is the most beautiful girl he has ever known. She steals his heart, she has his soul. Our camelboy knows that a day without her is a day he would rather be dead. There was just one problem... this girl, this sun in his sky, this breath of life, was the daughter of a mighty ruler. A king. Surely, she would never be allowed to marry a camelboy. To have her, he knew he had no choice...

He must change.
He must become the Greatest Salesman in the World.

When the camelboy approaches his master with this desire, the Greatest Salesman in the World is surprised at the sudden change in ambition. The camelboy insists. The Greatest Salesman in the World agrees... but warns the young man:

"The rewards are great if one succeeds, but the rewards are great only because so few succeed."

What it takes to succeed is time, desire, determination, and discipline. To master all of these elements, the camelboy is eventually given the 10 ancient scrolls with whose wisdom, practiced daily, one can become the greatest salesman in the world.
----

That day I, looking in that mirror, I made a decision. I must lose weight.

I must... and while I think about how I'm going to do that, I should return the XMen DVDs.

As I headed toward my car, DVDs in hand, I remembered it only takes a matter of moments to get to Blockbuster by car ... it couldn't be THAT bad on foot.

"I must lose weight" echoed in my ears.

I walked back up the stairs to my second (and Top!) floor apartment, traded my sandals for sneakers, and took my first walk since I had moved to the desert. I returned the videos on foot, and on the way home, I took an unnecessary lap around the park, just for good measure.

Over the course of the next five months I wrote down everything I ate. I went walking, then skipping, then running in the desert. I rode my bike to school and home again and I rented movies often, ALWAYS returning them on foot. Slowly but surely I started to fit into every outfit in my closet ... and then they stopped fitting again.

From January to May, I went from 156 pounds to 127 (well, 125 one day because I had a little flu bug). I went from a size 12 pants to a size 4.

Yes, it felt good. But most importantly, I learned what it meant to go from 'should' to 'must.'

Finding the Greatest Salesman in the World

My dad has always been a connector. He likes to connect people, especially his children, to things that he has heard are good ideas or things. When I was a junior in college, I wanted to live off campus. In order to live off campus, I was going to have to get a job. The job -I- wanted was at Applebee's. The job my dad wouldn't stop talking about, was at the Outback. He had a friend who had a daughter who worked at an Outback and said it was good. My dad had never eaten at an Outback, he had never set foot in an Outback, my guess is he hadn't even driven BY an Outback. But that didn't matter. He had Outback on the brain and wasn't letting it go until I was hired.

Fortunately for my father, the manager at Applebee's in Fargo interviewed me without a shirt on, a super hairy belly that hung over his jeans and seeped out the sides of his apron, and a big wad of tobacco in his mouth. Meanwhile, the owner at the Outback (I interviewed there to HUMOR my father) was young, Costa Rican, and hot. It was G'day Mate for me from that point forward.

Many years later, my dad decided to "connect me" again. This time it was to a book. Now, he hadn't read the book, he'd never even HEARD of the book before, but on some late night talk show Matthew McConaughey said it was the book that forever changed his life. My father decided that was good enough reason to send it to me and insist that I read it.

And I did. Three years later.

The Book: The Greatest Salesman in the World by Og Mandino.

Just a few chapters in I could see why this book would change anyone's life, including Heartthrob McConaughey's. It was such an easy read with such a profound message. I believe that anyone who reads and adheres to the teachings found within the ten ancient scrolls this book reveals, can certainly become the Greatest Salesman in the World; whether that be sales of a product, sales of a service, sales of a belief or mindset, or sale of yourself as a trustworthy human being who is destined for greatness. For anyone who has wanted more for their life but wasn't sure what was missing, this short book may contain your answer.

I will admit, my father was right. Right about the Outback, right about this book, right about the fact that if you didn't keep your gas tank filled AT LEAST above an eighth of a tank in the winter it would freeze... So, in honor of my father, and to thank him for his thoughtful gift oh so many years ago, I've decided to do him, and any of you, a favor. Throughout the next few weeks I will post the "general meaning" of the various chapters of this age old classic (Scroll Four was posted August 13th). It certainly won't replace reading the book, but at least you will benefit from SOME of the teachings.

In the meantime, I decided to see if there was any truth to the tale my father told me ... if Matthew McConaughey really DID live by this book or if that was just a good "sales technique" of my father's (let's face it, that was smart).

As a matter of fact, it is true.

Over and over again Mr. McConaughey attributes much of the success in his life to the teachings of this book. He first discovered the book in college. He was going to school to be a lawyer but after reading the message KNEW that he had to pursue a career in film. He reads from the scrolls every morning, noon and night and even his stunt double (from Minnesota) says that McConaughey, above anything else, will consult the scrolls daily. How has it helped? McConaughey is known as one of the greatest salesman in Hollywood starting with his first role in Dazed and Confused. It started out minor part, a mere blip on the big screen. As Matthew consciously "sold" his talents on set, the role expanded. While most "blips" end up on the cutting room floor... McConaughey ended up on the launch pad of an outrageous career. His next big break came when Hollywood superstars Brad Pitt, Val Kilmer, Woody Harrelson were ALL passed over for the coveted role in "A Time to Kill." It was none other than John Grisham who approved McConaughey for the role when Matthew suggested HIMSELF for the lead.

His commitment to living his life in a focused, abundant way is not the first thing you will hear about McConaughey. No, first you'll hear about his abs, then you'll hear about his beautiful girlfriend and new son, then you'll hear about all of the romantic comedies he's done. But behind all of the hype is a man who is completely focused on the subtle habits and the positive mindsets that lead to greatness.

Shoot ... now I love him even more.

The next installemnt: The Story of the Scrolls
-------------------

Below is an interview with McConaughey. I'm not sure this is the exact one my father saw, but I can see now why he sent me the book.

The Scroll Marked Four

I used to go to the library at least once a week in the summer with my mom, brother and sister. We would go to the tiny one room library in the town of Marine On St. Croix. We would pick out our books and then we would get ice cream at the Village Scoop where the scoops were as big as our heads. It was my favorite part of summer.

However, somewhere in the midst of graduate school, I lost my love of reading. Reading seemed more a method of torture, one I was not ready to inflict upon myself unless I HAD to.

Just recently, I started reading again. Just recently, I've read some great stuff. Just recently I read "The Greatest Salesman in the World" by Og Mandino.

In the book there are ten ancient scrolls that are said to contain the secrets and the lessons to becoming the greatest salesman in the world. This is not necessarily salesman of a product, but sale of one's self -- one's talents, one's abilities, to the marketplace. Within the scrolls is direction to changing the habits that keep us from the great success we are each individually capable of, and deserving.

The lessons are not easy. But they're good. Each scroll has a different lesson to share. Scroll Four reads (more or less):

I am nature's greatest miracle.

Since the beginning of time there has never been another quite like me. Instead of being ashamed of my unique talent, I will I place my uniqueness on display, as the centerpiece of my success. I will begin now to accent my differences. I am not on this earth by chance. I am here for a purpose and that purpose is to grow into a mountain. Henceforth will I apply all my efforts to become the highest mountain of all and I will strain my potential until it cries for mercy. I am nature's greatest miracle. I will win, and I will become great, for I am unique.
-----
I remember my first experience with the message of the scroll marked four.

It was the summer after my freshman year of college and for most of the summer, I wanted only one thing:

REVENGE.

Revenge for my broken heart.

To get my revenge I had many an evil word say, many a plan to not show up for a date. I tried many different things to get my revenge, though they all failed (mainly because the man at fault would not pick up his phone ... which was usually the thing that would set the whole revenge-plan in motion).

Finally, after all of my attempts were thwarted, I had only one thing left to do.

I would have to become FAMOUS.

Yes. In order to get my revenge I was going to have to become famous. I wasn't immediately sure how I was going to do it, but I knew it would have to be done. Once he saw me in my new famousness, he would have no choice but to realize his mistake. And there, in THAT moment, I would have my revenge.

I spent the rest of that summer riding around on the beer cart at the Chisago Lakes Golf Course plotting my meteoric rise to fame. I practiced my acceptance speeches and my TV interviews. I thought about whether I would move to Manhattan or Los Angeles. And of course, I imagined the look on his face... the pained look he would have when he realized that I was indeed, famous. The look when he realized it was HIS turn to wait on the phone line 30 times a day with no one picking up on the other end.

I would be just too famous for him.

Unfortunately, in all of my hours of driving around the golf course, serving beer, Snickers, and hot dogs... I had no idea how I was actually going to DO it ... how I would actually BECOME famous.

Then one day it hit me. A sure answer to fame, fortune, and most importantly, REVENGE.

I would enter the Minnesota State Fair Talent Contest.

(I think that's how most famous people have gotten their start).

Yes!! Every year thousands of people flock to the Minnesota Fair grounds in July to audition for the biggest talent show on earth (keep in mind this was before American Idol). I was going to BE one of those people... more importantly... I was going to WIN. The prize was fifteen hundred dollars, the crowd would be fifteen thousand deep. FAME!

A little research revealed that the deadline to submit your audition was quickly approaching -- I didn't have much time to think of my talent. I didn't have time to learn a song (or learn to sing), I didn't have time to learn a/to dance, and I certainly did not have the time (nor the desperation) to learn to twirl a baton. I was simply going to have to become famous using the only talent I had on short notice:

Telling a story.

This was controversial, I knew that. It would be the first time I had ever told a story outside of a school or speech team setting. I would probably be scorned, booed, and thrown off the stage for wasting everyone's time ... But my desire to become famous outweighed my desire not to make a fool of myself so I submitted my audition sheet and a few weeks later, after practicing in front of the golfers in the club house after Men's League, (hey, if it was good enough for them, it was good enough to make me famous), I arrived at the Leinenkugel Leinie Lodge Bandshell -- the site of the Minnesota State Fair Talent Auditions.

My mom came with me. This was something I wasn't going to be able to do alone.

As we walked up to the 4,000 seat open-air venue, I got a very uneasy feeling. I noticed there were only about 100 people there; all of them dressed up in sparkly costumes, and most of them in curly ponytails. I immediately began to regret my decision.

I went up to the list posted on the wall that stated the order of the auditions. It listed names and talents... though all I saw were the talents:

song
song
dance
song
baton
dance
s t o r y t e l l e r
song
dance
dance
song

Even the NAME of my talent stood out like a sore thumb. Oh this was bad. A very bad idea. Becoming famous suddenly didn't seem like the way to go. Perhaps I should just go back to leaving several hundred "breezy messages" on his parents' answering machine instead ...

Before I had time to run, (and just moments before I had time to vomit) they called my name.

I had no choice.

I walked up on stage.
I told my story to deadpan mothers of toddler tap dancers and teenage girls about to lip-sync to Britney while dancing a dance they made up in the basement.
Four minutes, 9 different characters, and one "once upon a time" later, I was done.
I walked off the stage to the wild cheering of my OWN mother.
And I went home.

Though my dreams of US Weekly cover pages were destroyed, the greater damage was to my spirit. It was unfortunate that my talent was so ... undesirable.

Or so I thought.

A few weeks later, a letter arrived in the mail. CONGRATULATIONS KINDRA!! YOU ARE A SEMIFINALIST AT THE 2000 MINNESOTA STATE FAIR TALENT CONTEST!!

No. Way.

My mom cheered. My golfers cheered. My grandparents cheered (because they go to the fair every year dontchano).

I was silent.

You mean to tell me I'm going to have to do that again? In front of MORE PEOPLE?! This couldn't be good.

On the night of my Semi Final performance, the 4,000 seats at the Leinenkugel Leinie Lodge Bandshell were full. 25 of them were filled with my golfers (I brought them for back up).

I stood backstage. Pacing. Wringing my hands. Pacing. Breathing deep.

The sound girl asked if she had the CD for my music.

"I'm not singing. I'm telling a story."

"Oh... um. Do you have your DANCE music?" As if perhaps I didn't speak English.

"Noo. I am not dancing. I'm telling a story."

"Oh... um. Do you need your guitar?"

I was just about to hit her (then vomit) when I heard it ... I was being announced onstage. It was time.

"Please welcome Kindra! Telling a story ...?" Oh geezuz.

I walked out to only a few applause from 8,000 hands. I saw the faces of 4,000 people wondering what they had just gotten themselves into. 4,000 people already feeling sorry for me.

Then, in the back of the crowd, I saw my golfers. In the third row, I saw my mom and dad. In the first row with her rain bonnet on (despite the perfect weather), I saw my grandmother and next to her, Grandpa. Somewhere, in that sea of faces, I saw my opportunity. I knew I was nothing like anything they had ever seen. And I knew that if I played my cards right, my quirky talent could be the very reason I won this damn thing.

"Once upon a time a long, long time ago ..."

Four minutes and 9 different characters later I had done it. That audience was MINE. I walked off the stage to 4,000 people on their feet (and a crew of golfers (and my mother) jumping up and down) and a feeling of pride greater than I had ever known. It was then that I knew...

Since the beginning of time there has never been another quite like me. Instead of being ashamed of my unique talent, I will I place my uniqueness on display, as the centerpiece of my success. I will begin now to accent my differences. I am not on this earth by chance. I am here for a purpose and that purpose is to grow into a mountain. Henceforth will I apply all my efforts to become the highest mountain of all and I will strain my potential until it cries for mercy. I am nature's greatest miracle. I will win, and I will become great, for I am unique.

-----

I won that semi-final round, probably BECAUSE my talent was so unique. A week later I was on the stage for the Finals in front of 15,000 people. For four minutes I was uniquely Kindra. I walked away with second place ... and I believe a lifetime of success to come.

The same is true for you, for anyone who knows that they are nature's greatest miracle.

--------------------
This is the video from my second appearance in the Final Round (the year AFTER this story took place)

The Three Men in the Wood by the Brother's Grimm

When Other People Say What You Would, Better than You Could

Michael sent this video my way this afternoon. It is Jim Rohn, a man I have never met, but whose voice I hear in my head quite often as I go about my daily routine (I also hear his voice because Michael likes to imitate him sporadically throughout the day). As a business philosopher, here is the advice he offers to desiring entrepreneurs -- I couldn't agree with him more.

The Day I Missed Spin Class

I have used a variety of excuses to avoid working out over the course of my life. All of them seemed very satisfactory at the time. I'll admit it is a habit I'm trying to break. To do this, I have adopted the belief that statements such as "I don't have time to workout," or "I'm too tired to workout" are not statements of fact, but rather statements of priority.

I recently changed my priorities.

I recently started spinning which, despite how bad it sucks, it's kind of fun. And despite how fun it is, it is actually a great workout.

Because of this, working out is now one of the favorite parts of my day. I work the rest of the day around it. It is such a part of my life that, if I happen to miss a day, I get jeering text messages from other class members. Motivation at its best.

This Thursday was one of those days. One of the days I missed. I had told my fellow spinners in advance that my flight was getting in late on Wednesday night (8:20pm) and that I may not be able to attend Thursday's (notoriously the most difficult) class. Excuses excuses. They jeered at me. "If your flight gets in before 5:30am Thursday morning, you can make it," was their response.

True. And motivating. And correctly prioritized. They shot my excuse down in a second -- that's what friends are for.

Wednesday night I arrived at 8:20pm.

Thursday morning, I did not go.

I passed the message that I was "just too tired".

I soon started receiving the hate texts: "Alright sunshine, just because you got in "late" doesn't mean you can slack off." and "What person in their 20s calls 8:30 late. I'm 55 kiddo and I was there." ... the list went on.

It was true. Missing spin class for a little extra sleep was poor prioritizing on my part. I deserved the hate texts. However, in my defense, it was a lie. I didn't skip class for sleep alone... Oh no, there was a much more important reason.

...

You see, Michael and I have an enormous king sized bed. It is really too big for its own good. We sleep on complete opposite sides and I never even know he is there unless he's talking in his sleep or making some kind of smell. It's sad. I don't like it.

So imagine my delight when I woke up to my alarm Thursday morning, (set to go to spin class)... only to find myself holding Michael's hand. It was a true miracle. Both of our arms outstretched across the great mattress scape, only to find each other and interlock fingers, all while Michael and I slept the night peacefully away.

Now really... could I end such a sweetly spontaneous moment of love because the alarm had sounded? Was I to break this bond, and jump out of bed to merely go exercise? No. No, this was a moment, just as I was not responsible for starting, I did not want to be responsible for ending. So, with my other hand I turned off my alarm, pulled the covers back up, and enjoyed one more hour holding the hand of a man while we slept.

Some might say my priorities were out of line, that I was lazy that Thursday morning (on any other Thursday, I probably would have been the one making that accusation). But for me, and that morning...

My priorities were right where they should be; in Michael's hand.

----------

There is a difference between a statement of fact and a statement of priority. Taking responsibility for the way in which you prioritize your life, for better or worse, is a liberating moment. A moment when you are able to accept, and rise to the challenge of, controlling your own life.