In fact, don't just give yourself permission. Believe you deserve it.
Because we all deserve to go confidently in the direction of our dreams, and to find there the uncommon success that Thoreau mentions.
Oh, but it is so hard to believe it. Every time I think I've let go that insidious voice of parental disdain, so adamant I should amount to nothing but what she allowed me, I trip across another reminder I very much have not.
Today, a completed manuscript, in need only of revision and release into the world, sits staring me in the face. As it has for a week. I believe in the story. It came from my gut; from intuition and blood and tears. It has something to say. I have something to say in it.
And yet I procrastinate. I'd rather work on the websites. Clean house. Mow the lawn. If I have no other mundane task that needs done I will invent something. Anything. Anything but succeed.
Don't imagine, either, that I finished this manuscript only this past week. This manuscript has been in its current form since 1996. Typed. Double spaced. Sitting bundled with writer's guidelines and submission information. For nearly 20 years.
In its nearly twenty years, it has survived events nearly unbelievable, that it should be sitting here whole and undamaged. Miraculous.
And I know that.
There's her shadow over my soul. Not any particular phrase in my head, mind, but the steady pattern of cutting me down, leaving me with a deep, dark fear of opening my wings and flying.
It's time to let it go. Face the fear.
You know, if I put it out there, and even one person hears the message in it - that, in itself, if a monumental success.
Your turn. Give yourself permission to shine.