Regret snaked through me the minute I walked out the side stage door. I had blown it. Why didn’t I stay an extra 10 minutes to meet the man who had been in constant rotation on my iPod since 2004?
As I’ve shared before, I am a huge music fanatic. And of all the hundreds of artists I have on my electronic jukebox, Marc Broussard is my absolute favorite. I love him so much that I’ve seen him live nine times. Yet, there I was, at my ninth show, he was feet away signing autographs and taking pictures, and I didn’t wait for a turn. I could have. I could have shaken his hand and told him how much his music meant to me. I could have had an awesome photo to show my grandkids one day… see, I knew him when. I coulda’, shoulda’, woulda’, but I didn’t.
I blew it. I gave over to my thoughts of all the pressures in my life. That I had to be at work the next morning. That I’d been going since 5 a.m. That I felt like I was getting sick. I let all the things that crowd out my ability to live wide guide my decision, and I missed out.
In short, I failed. And I’ve been royally kicking myself for it ever since.
Inevitably, I was bound to fail at this living wide stuff. In Reboot, I detailed how living wide pretty much pushes against 30 plus years of conditioning. And, let’s be honest, not all of the present lessons or those peppering the remaining months of my journey were/are meant to be easy. I recognized that I made a mistake, and when that happens, there are always two questions I ask myself: what did I learn from this, and how can I avoid repeating the same mistake in future?
In this case, I learned not to let once in a lifetime opportunities be overshadowed or clouded by a to-do list. And, that the sacrifice of 10 minutes to capture a standout moment or memory is far too important. In essence, my living wide fail is a living wide learn. It just sucks that I don’t have the picture to show for it.
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