Last week I marched out of my comfort zone and into an adult book fair where I wore a pin that said “author” and sold copies of my book. I have to tell you, this was a surreal experience for me. I never quite believed I was a real author and there I was with a label on my shirt, talking about my van life story and leadership lessons with strangers as they passed by.
I even stumbled on that. Yes, I wrote the book. I’m a keynote speaker about that book. Still, summarizing it into some marketing sentence to tell a stranger why they should buy it stumped me. I think the first person to buy a book took pity on me after I said, “You’re my first customer. Can I practice my speech?”
Near the end of the night, I was asked to read part of my new book, The Bounce Back Factor. I love to read but even in elementary school, reading out loud still brings back a deep fear of messing up. Trembling into the microphone, I read an old letter called No Rain, No Leaves. It’s about my relationship with rain in the first 8 months of my travels. During that time, I saw tornadoes and hail, watched flooding, and sunk into two feet of mud on more than one occasion. At the extremes, I worried about survival – for me and the van. At one point, I Googled “where to park in a tornado” from the parking lot outside the grocery store. The answer is, “get the hell out of the van.”
It was especially miserable, rainy, and cold in my van in New England. After a weekend spent in another beautiful place where it poured most of the time, I vented to a client that I was done with the rain. “I knew I’d regret coming all this way just for leaves,” I complained – a thought that had crossed my mind a few hundred times as I raced from Montana to this northern-most, rainy part of the country. I mean, they were just leaves after all.
“Oh, just wait,” she said. “It’s worth it. And remember, no rain – no leaves.” At the time, I cursed her in my head the same way I cursed rain. Poorly timed positivity is the worst, like someone bringing out pastries right after you eat the dry cake because that’s the only dessert you thought they had.
She was right – and I knew it as soon as I saw those red, orange, and yellow leaves that seemingly transformed overnight from a bland green. I was meant to be there. I was meant to witness that transformation.
In those colorful leaves, I got to admire something you can’t mark in yourself with vivid colors: a beautiful evolution. The leaves are the perfect model for transformation and change, going from average to life-altering because of conditions like the cold air, the rain. The imperfectness of a cold night too early in September and a weekend filled with downpours are critical ingredients for this beautiful, colorful reveal in the fall.
Almost three years later to the day, I found myself looking out the window just above my sink to see a bright red tree. A reminder that transformation has happened inside of me. Leaves and beauty that reminded me that all the big changes I’ve been through, every transformation – whether they were romantic, business, family, van life – are not some laundry list of mistakes to be stared at with anger when things go wrong. They’re critical to having the best things in my life. These leaves are a reminder that every time I face hard things, I will survive. Maybe even come out on the other side more beautiful.
You will too. I know a lot of people are in the middle of shit right now – a layoff, maybe their partner has gotten laid off, unexpected caregiving, food insecurity, the list goes on. In my life I’ve experienced a million days that felt like endings, too. Just know that before a transformation, we all have to endure the conditions to let them change us. Maybe even taking some time to fall in love with the rain.