#and how much effort joan put into the process too and how excited she was like oahg it's such a bummer | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yourdeepestfathoms · 4 years

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Lick Your Wounds (part five; finale)

[Breakaway]

hope y’all got tissues ;)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

TW: Blood, vomit, discussions of death

———————

In The Mouth of The Leviathan

Joan awoke to excruciating pain.

Her mouth opens to scream, but no noise came out. Only a strangled whine that grates the back of her throat like hot iron claws. She struggled to sit up and was met with even further discomfort- soreness in all of her limbs, tightness in her chest, cramps in her stomach, pounding in her head. It all added to her misery and she didn’t think it could get any worse, but then she looked at her hand and the blood all over her bed.

Red. Red on her sheets and blankets and pillows. Red soaked through the fabric and her bandages. Red dripping from the gaping hole in her palm.

The wound had opened back up in her sleep.

A choked cry worms its way out of Joan’s throat. She began to weep weakly as pain invaded all her senses. She wrapped her good arm around her stomach and wished Maggie was there holding her, rocking her, telling her that everything would be okay.

But it wouldn’t be okay, would it?

Joan was dying. She knew it. She could feel it. She could feel her cells shredding themselves and her blood tainting and her poor stomach lining inflaming from the infection that now coursed through her body. First, her hand went, now her stomach was being attacked by the bacteria...it wouldn’t be long until her heart was next, and then her brain.

And then there would be no more Joan.

Tears burned as they slid down Joan’s cheeks. She didn’t want to die. There was still so much she wanted to do, so much she wanted to see, so much she wanted to say. She wanted to sing all the songs she wrote herself, she wanted to learn how to swim, she wanted to finally beat Nightmare King Grimm in Hollow Knight, she wanted to get an apartment with Maggie and adopt a cat and argue about what kind of decorations they’d have in their flat. She wanted to tell Maggie how much she meant to her.

But she doesn’t know if she can anymore. Because her body is destroying itself and she can feel herself getting weaker and weaker as the seconds ticked by.

She knows her time is running out, so, with whatever strength she had left, she grabbed her phone and began to type in an empty doc. She typed and typed and typed until her vision started to blur and her hand burned and her stomach ached.

Then, her phone is back on the bedside table and she’s crumpled on the floor, kneeling over a pool of her own bloody vomit. Consciousness leaves her quickly and she finally gives in to her infection.

After everything, it’s nice to not feel.

———

Jane and Anne find Joan sprawled out on the floor of the cabin when they went to visit her with lunch. They rushed to her side and were horrified to find that she was barely breathing.

“She’s in a rhythm.” Jane declared grimly.

Before Anne can react, Jane’s threading her fingers together and pumping them against Joan’s rib cage with measured violence.

“Rhythm? What does that mean?“ Anne asked in alarm. She notices that Jane’s breathing a new number every half-second, counting off as she delivers CPR.

Jane reached fifteen and then looked at Anne. Her eyes are determined, but worried and scared.

“Listen to me, Anne. If we don't even out her heart rate, she’s going into cardiac arrest. I need to do this, okay?"

Jane goes back to Joan within seconds, putting her ear to her chest and beginning her straining pumps again. Again, she counts out to fifteen and puts her temple on her chest.

“Shit.” It's so quiet that it's hardly a word, more of a distressed noise. With sweat beading on her forehead she goes through five more cycles before her arms begin the shake visibly. “Come on…” She grunts into her motions. “Come on, Joan.”

Anne can just sit petrified, watching the queen struggle with her efforts. She claps her own hands together and prays silently.

“Come on, Joan!” Jane’s calls are slowly becoming louder, fighting the edge of desperation. She's coming up on her thirteenth cycle, pumping against Joan’s rib cage with weakening arms, and the beads of sweat on her forehead only serve to frighten Anne further.

“Joan, open your eyes.” Anne encouraged. She took one of the girl’s hand- it’s so cold in her own. “Don't do this.”

But Jane is losing her battle against Joan’s heart.

“You aren’t allowed to give up now, Joan!” The silver queen shouted between clenched teeth, and Anne agreed with her angrily.

“Joan, you’re so close,” Anne spoke back up, squeezing tightly to the small, still, freezing hand in her own. “You’re almost there. You can’t let go now!”

A sickening silence fills the room. Jane leans once more, ear pressed firmly to Joan’s chest. Anne swore she felt a twitch of pressure around her hand.

“Yes…Yes!” Jane’s exclamation catches Anne off guard. “That's it, sweetheart. Come on.” She’s beaming in relief.

“Is she…?”

“Yeah,“ Jane nodded. “She’s alive.”

Anne closed her eyes and smiled. She quickly wiped away tears that had been forming, then looked down at Joan.

“She’s still not waking up.”

Jane’s smile is gone, replaced with a dark frown.

“I don't think she has the strength to wake up.”

Anne swallowed thickly. Behind her, she hears the locking mechanism on the door click, but neither she nor Jane dare to face the one who steps inside. They can’t bear to see the stricken expression plastered on their face after what just happened.

“Do you think she’ll make it?” Anne whispered.

Jane does not answer as Maggie lunges down to their sides and takes Joan’s lax body into her arms.

———

The nurses in the ship’s medical wing stare pitifully when Maggie covers Joan up with blankets and sleeps huddled next to her in one of the beds, but they don’t say anything. It’s the only thing the guitarist can think to do, her little sister’s dear friend’s body too cold and too weak to fend for itself.

It's been six hours since Jane pulled Joan back from the brink of death. Maggie never thought she’d think such a thing, but she wished she’d stay unconscious until they got to land.

Instead, Joan operates in the between space, the little grey line between states of being. She wakes, but she is delirious with fever and confused every time. She talks, but never beyond a mutter of no significant meaning. Her eyes open sometimes, but only to stare at the ceiling in an empty way. If she were lucid enough to understand her situation, most would think she was waiting impatiently for her own death.

Maggie clung desperately to Joan’s side despite how disturbingly frozen she is, and listened to music alone. She tried so many times to wake her with it, but the bud wouldn't stay in her ear and eventually she gave up. In the back of my mind she realized that this is the beginning of their separation, when the pieces of the two of them disconnect in a long, painful way until everything pulls back and snaps suddenly.

When Joan is gone.

Maggie’s hand clenches tightly around Joan’s side, and for the hundredth time in the last hour she wills the girl to wake.

If you love me, you'll wake up.

If you love me, you won't make me go through this alone.

If you love me, you’ll open your eyes.

Nothing.

Joan doesn’t even stir.

Maggie kissed her forehead lightly.

Joan doesn’t respond.

Maggie wants her back.

———

Joan’s cabin feels haunted when Maggie enters on the sixth night. What used to be a cozy little safe haven that she loved to visit was now a dim, vomit-smelling den of pain and bad memories. Blood has turned rust brown on the bed sheets. The pool of throw up is still stained on the ground. Evidence of the torturous week that Joan so desperately tried to endure lied everywhere.

Maggie stands in the middle of the room for the longest time until her mind collapses. Her persona finally shatters to pieces and she lets herself crumple.

She remembers first meeting Joan, surprised to see that she of all ladies in waiting had come back to life. She remembers first getting close to the girl, how Joan would follow her around like a duckling from afar, but not have the courage to actually talk to her. She remembers boarding the boat, taking Joan’s hand in the process and leading her up the walkway, since the poor thing had been quite nervous about getting on. She remembers the way Joan practically leapt into her end after the very first performance and she cracked a smile at her excited, happy babbling.

Those were the days, the months in which they consumed one another. Even if they were platonic, more than that- sisterly, they changed each other. They fed on each other’s energy. They laughed together, smiled together, and everything in between those points. Friends left, lovers left, family left, but they stayed, always. Always.

Joan is all Maggie has. She was all of her.

And with Joan freezing and unresponsive in the medical wing, Maggie can already feel herself becoming nothing.

Through a beginning haze of tears (oh how it hurt to cry), Maggie noticed Joan’s phone on the nightstand. She gingerly picked it up and put in the password (1234...she would tell Joan to change it to something less guessable it it weren’t for their current situation). A doc is opened up to her and she begins to read what it said.

Dear Maggie,

I’ve never told you before, but I’ve always been searching for something. What I wanted was someone to laugh with. Someone to smile with. Someone to suffer with...even fight with. A true friend. That’s what I was looking for. And I finally found one. And that was you, Maggie.

We’re best friends, you and me. You really are my dearest friend. I wanted us to stay together forever, but...

Even if we won’t be able to see each other anymore, I’ll still be thinking of you everyday, wherever I go. No matter what the distance, no matter what happens to me, no matter where I go or if I disappear...I will never forget you.

Thank you. Thank you for being with me all this time. Thank you for holding my hand and hugging me and supporting me through this—and everything else. Your touch and your voice and your presence means more than you’ll ever know. It kept me going through everything that hit me. Without you, I don’t know where I’d be.

I’m glad we got to meet. You gave me a chance to smile and laugh and live like I never had before. You gave me a purpose in this world. Nobody has ever loved me like you have.

I’ll miss you, and I know you’ll miss me, too, but promise me you’ll live your life. Don’t rush our reunion. Go live. I’ll wait a thousand years for you, Maggie.

I have to go now. I can’t keep writing anymore. But I had to leave something for you.

Goodbye, Maggie. I love you.

-Your darling Joan

Tears poured down Maggie’s cheeks as she sunk to the ground, sobbing. She didn’t care how loud she was being, she didn’t care who would hear or if this ruined her stoney persona. She couldn’t help herself.

It hurt to breathe. Her chest was aching with the weight of each sob. When she looked up, she could barely see through the haze in front of her eyes, but she just barely managed to make out a furry mass on the bed.

Maggie grabbing Sunny and cuddled her close to her chest as she wept.

Now she understood why Joan liked it so much.

———

The cruise ship docks in Cozumel the next morning on the seventh day. The nurses wanted to put Joan on a gurney, but there was no time. She had to get off the ship that instant, so Cleves scooped her limp body up and began running.

There’s an ambulance and a readied gurney pulled out in front of the docks. Most people know to move when nine Tudor women are charging in a herd, but some don’t and they are shoved without mercy. There was no time to ask them to step slightly to the right- they had a girl dying in one of their arms, damnit! Everyone could wait to get on the island and explore.

The doctors take one look at Joan when they get down to the ambulance and begin shouting commands at one another, taking her from Cleves’ arms and strapping her into the gurney. Maggie and Maria barely have time to climb in after them before they slam the back doors and speed off onto the interstate.

“What has happened to this girl?” One of them said to Maria in Spanish, urgent tone thinly veiled.

“A light fell on her hand.” Maria answered.

Maggie looked between them, not knowing what either of them were saying. She knew very little Spanish, which was why Maria was there in the first place, but it only took a little common sense to know what they were discussing wasn’t very good.

The ambulance was going so fast that Maggie could hardly stay seated without tumbling over. Shouting, clasping grips and stabbing needles, ad scribbling on white paper pads- there’s so much going on in such a small space. Flurries of abstract motion. That unnatural freeze that soaked beneath Joan’s milky grey skin is now a heat- burning up, boiling, blazing. Such a temperature spike so quickly, and they’re so close now to getting her help…Was she giving up now?

Or had she already given up a long time ago?

One of the machines to Maggie’s right began to beep rapidly, deafeningly, like some kind of angry force. It beats viciously in her brain and she screwed her eyes shut. She never was the most religious person, but she found herself praying to God and any other ethereal beings that may exist to save her little sister.

Not best friend anymore. Little sister. Joan was her sister and she wasn’t going to lose another one.

Not after Anne.

It takes a long, very long ten minutes before the ambulance finally pulled into the emergency station at the local hospital. The team is bursting through the doors in seconds, completely prepared, white jackets and blue gloves and silver chrome instruments. They crowd Joan, yelling. By Maria’s wide eyes, Maggie knows whatever they’re saying isn’t good.

The two follow them in, more running, more shouting, more needles. Someone orders for broad spectrum antibiotics. Doctors form a typhoon, a tornado surrounding the gurney as it’s rolled inside, and a collection of nurses egg Maggie and Maria with personal questions.

It isn’t long before Joan is wheeled off somewhere further into the hospital, somewhere not even Maggie can follow. She and Maria are left in the wakes of the panic, standing aimlessly in shock. The others arrive soon, but there was nothing they could do but wait.

And wait they do.

A nurse comes out, eventually. An English speaking one, thank god. If this lady was the bearer of bad news, everyone knew neither Maria or Aragon, the only Spanish speakers there, wanted to be the ones to translate and pass that onto everyone else.

“Is she okay?” Maggie asked instantly, jumping out of her seat.

“Joan. She’s in critical condition. The doctors are doing everything they can.”

Maggie couldn’t bear to hear anything else. Jane and Anne took over listening to the news while Maggie went to sit back down and pray alongside Aragon. And Bessie. And Cathy. And even Cleves, who teased Joan religiously. They were all praying for the girl’s recovery.

Surely God would hear at least one of their pleas.

———

Surgery. Surgeries. Surgery.

It’s a blur- Was it plural? Did Joan get one or two? Were two needed for a hold in the hand? Or was the other for something else?

Maggie didn’t know. Nobody knew.

Two days have passed. Joan hasn’t been seen by any of her friends. The cruise is being delayed, but the captain can’t promise for much longer.

They were going to leave Joan behind.

Not like they’ve failed her enough already.

It’s on that second day when Joan is allowed to be seen. Maggie rushes to the opportunity and nobody stops her.

Joan is so very pale in her bed and so very small, like a baby bird. Her features are sunken, but relaxed as she sleeps. Or, what Maggie hopes is sleep. Her left hand is still attached to her wrist- honestly, Maggie had been fearing it would be amputated. When an English-speaking doctor steps in, he relieves Maggie of that fear—the hand was still functional.

But then his face went very dark.

“What?” Maggie said. A chunk of ice stabs mercilessly into her gut.

“Joan is stable.” The doctor said first. “She will recover.”

Tears fill Maggie’s eyes. Tears of relief and joy, but all she can do it nod with a mouthed, “Thank you.” The doctor gave her a small smile through his grim expression.

“However—” He stopped and looked down at his clipboard. “She is a pianist, yes?”

“Yeah,” Maggie nodded. “We perform on that cruise. The show’s called SIX. She plays the keyboard and also is our music director.”

“She must love her job.”

Maggie actually managed a light, laughing breath. “She tries.”

The doctor nodded. He’s looking at his notes again.

“Joan will make a recovery,” He said again. “And her hand will still be functional. But there will be permanent nerve damage in it.”

Maggie swallowed thickly. The shard of ice presses in deeper- she feels like she’s being ripped open.

“What do you mean?”

“Things like writing, eating, simply picking things up with that hand will be difficult. Near impossible at times, depending on flareups.” The doctor explained. “She may never play piano again.”

Like that, Joan’s whole world came crashing down on top of Maggie, and she could only save some of it. She goes very still; the piece of ice has ripped a hole through her, just like the hole in Joan’s hand, and just like the permanent hole now opened up in the girl’s life.

“Or, at least she won’t be able to play like she used to.”

Maggie gets to be alone with Joan shortly after. She sits by the bedside, holding the girl’s good hand in her own. She murmurs to her, whispers to her, hums to her, and lets her know that she was there and she could take her time with waking up, but she just had to know that she will have to wake up and return to her at some point.

And, like before, like when this all started, she lies to Joan over and over again. She says she’ll be able to play her piano again soon and perform all those songs she had planned. But something tells her when Joan’s foggy eyes slowly open, that she already knows.

She knows and she’s pretending it isn’t true, just like Maggie was.

“Hey,” Maggie whispered.

“Hey,” Joan croaked.

Still together. There’s something new, now, and it has lurked into their lives like a snake or an unwanted guest, but they’re still together.

Or, at least Maggie thinks. It isn’t the same Joan looking at her. Not really. Not anymore. But she’ll love her all the same.

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stellamai · 6 years

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A sense of community

Something crunches and slides under his foot as Neil steps into the apartment on Sunday evening and he has to grasp wildly for the door handle to prevent himself smacking his head on the hardwood flooring. All the lights are off, meaning that Andrew isn't home yet and the cats probably haven't been fed.

Sure enough, King appears a second later, trotting around the corner and making a beeline for Neil's legs, winding around them as if to trip him up a second time. He shuts the door and crouches down, stroking her absently as he peers at the offending slippery object. It's a flyer of some kind, probably pushed under the door by one of their neighbours, advertising a street fair.

Neil skims the information as he wanders into the kitchen to refill the cats' food. There's a form on the back of the flyer for people who want to apply for a stall, and an option to contribute some baked goods to a community stall which will raise money for 'the most innovative neighbourhood scheme' pitched at the fair.

Neil hears the door click as Andrew arrives home, and rushes to show him the flyer.

"A street fair," says Andrew, sounding wholly unimpressed.

"You could bake something," says Neil, gesturing out to the balcony where Andrew has been growing various fruits and vegetables in large pots. "The raspberries are ripening up; you could make pies."

"Is this about your stupid Exy club idea?" asks Andrew, scanning the information on the sheet. "How far would the proceeds from a measly stall at a street fair go towards that?"

"Well, no," replies Neil. "I just think it would be nice for you to share your baking skills with everybody."

"You sound like Renee."

"But," continues Neil, unperturbed, "that plot of land at the end of the road just went on sale, where Mr Jones used to keep those tiny goats -"

"Pygmy goats."

"Right. And I just think it would be nice to have something better than that run down park to keep the local kids occupied."

"There's already an Exy club at the local school, and it’s open to anyone under the age of eighteen,” says Andrew. "I asked Mrs Parkinson about it."

Neil sighs, expression falling into one of dejection. "Oh."

Andrew stares out at the balcony, regarding his improvised vegetable patch with a bored stare. "But okay, I'll bake something. I want to see what everyone else has to offer."

Neil smiles, knowing Andrew's thinking of all the cakes, brownies and pastries that will be available. "Joan's Chelsea buns can't hold a candle to your Battenberg cake."

Andrew rolls his eyes and steps closer. "The Battenberg was a one-off. Nicky wanted the same cake for his wedding as Prince Louis had."

"Nicky has an unhealthy obsession with German princes," chuckles Neil, altering his accent slightly as he leans close to Andrew. "Nevertheless, Joan's European baked goods are mere imitations compared to yours."

Andrew shivers slightly, as he can’t help but do on the rare occasion Neil puts on his mother's English accent, and pulls Neil in for a kiss.

"By the way," murmurs Neil. "Welcome home."

By the day of the street fair, Neil has told practically everyone in their building about Andrew's baking efforts. He couldn't help it; every time someone mentioned the street fair he had to tell them to visit the community stall to try his husband's pies. Andrew used to say that Neil could only think about Exy, and maybe that was true until he suddenly had a life outside of it. Now that he has a whole future to contend with, he knows there's so much more to be proud of than winning an Exy game.

There’s a steady stream of people visiting the community stall all morning, buying goods and submitting ideas for the neighbourhood initiative the funds from the stall will go towards. Neil sees Andrew slip his own application into the pile, and smiles widely enough that Andrew pushes his face away in disgust.

Neil just laughs and flags down two young girls who have been eyeing the raspberry pies for about five minutes.

“Would you like to try one?” he asks. “This one’s a bit uneven so I’ll give it to you for free.” He stops and glances exaggeratedly towards Andrew before turning to whisper conspiratorially to the girls, “Don’t tell Andrew I said that. He’s very particular about quality control.”

The smaller of the two girls pauses at the sight of Andrew.

“Aren't you Andrew Minyard?" she asks, forehead creasing in confusion as she looks between him and Neil. "But aren't you two ... like ... enemies?"

The taller girl next to her whacks her arm lightly. "They're on the same teams, dummy."

The smaller girl scowls. "Yeah, but they're always shouting up and down the court at each other."

Her friend shrugs and crosses her arms. "So what? My mum and dad shout at each other a lot too, and they're not standing a hundred yards away from each other. It doesn't mean they're not in love."

Neil can tell Andrew's been getting bored with the conversation, but his head tilts slightly towards the girls at that last remark.

The smaller of the two gapes, then points between Andrew and Neil frantically, lowering her voice to an exaggerated and not-at-all-subtle whisper. "They're in love?!"

The other girl rolls her eyes. "Well, duh."

"I'll tell you a secret," says Neil, taking pity on the young girl. "When I'm shouting down the court at Andrew, it's not because I'm mad at him."

"Apart from that time when I didn’t pick up cat food before the game so we had to drive around searching for a 24-hour supermarket at midnight,” says Andrew, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly.

Now it's Neil's turn to roll his eyes. "Apart from then." He turns back to the girl. "Usually, we're just messing with our teammates by having conversations in Russian. It's like our own secret language on the court." Neil feels a soft smile spread unbidden across his face.

"See," mutters the taller girl, gesturing to Neil's smile. "I told you they were in love."

The other girl still looks sceptical, but takes the pie Neil offers her gladly.

Neil doesn’t miss the way Andrew watches carefully for her reaction when she takes a bite, and he turns away quickly before Andrew can notice his fond grin.

“Congratulations to our winner, Mr Minyard-Josten of Bellevue Terrace,” says Mrs Jones jovially, handing over an enormous novelty cheque displaying the sum of the proceeds of the community stall that will go towards his project. She’s already announced his winning idea to the assembled crowd, and Neil is proudly telling everyone how Andrew grew the raspberries for the pies himself.

“I tried to grow French beans last year and they shrivelled up within a week,” says a forlorn Madame Picard. “That’s very impressive, Andrew.”

Andrew is looking on passively while holding a giant stick of candy floss and acting as if he’s not paying attention, but Neil can tell by his eyes and the set of his mouth that he's pleased.

“A community allotment?” asks Neil later, a small grin tugging at the old scars on his cheekbones.

“Well, your Exy idea was stupid,” replies Andrew, as if it explains everything.

And suddenly, Neil gets it. Andrew took Neil’s failed idea and turned it into something else. Something positive for the community and for himself. Something he could be proud of, and that Neil could be proud of him for rather than dwelling on his own failures. It was a kind of metaphor for their lives, Neil mused, this thing that would start small and grow into something impactful and wonderful. And as he regards Andrew’s calm expression while he sets out ready-made designs on the dining room table, he wonders just how long Andrew has been planning this.

He wonders if Andrew had spoken to Bee about it - this new idea that he’d started to care about. Whether it scared him, excited him, whether he’d felt joy when the plan came to fruition.

“Was it worth it?” he asks softly, as he considers what may have lay under Andrew’s mask of detachment.

Andrew looks at him, processing and understanding the question, before nodding and pressing his palms more firmly - determinedly - onto the designs now spread out before them. Neil can see a thousand dreams behind his eyes and for a man who’s not used to dreaming, that must be a terrifying thing. “It will be.”

#i spent over a year finishing this whoops sorry #and the ending is rushed #andreil #aftg #tfc #all for the game #the foxhole court #neil josten #andrew minyard #tfc fanfic #aftg fanfic

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reddestreactionblush · 3 years

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Animal crossing: Survival Days part 2

Day 8

She says she's afraid but she’s a liar, and left a piece of herself in the fire. Puffy cheeks and devoid of life, she is far too close to getting the knife. A rhyme sets off in my head, a character clocked in black appears. A blue crystal ball glows illuminating the seers face. You have been warned.

I wake up in a cold sweat.

“We’re not leaving you alone in the gates, Suzette. You haven’t washed up in weeks, I’m not surprised if it smells like you died in there.” Agnes argues with a closed door. “We’re all going to be there, while it's morning, so the chances of you getting attacked are super slim.”

“Meaning that there is still a chance? No thank you.”

Agnes groans.

“Alright. I didn’t want to do this.” Agnes says, taking a step back before breaking down the door. She reaches in, dragging out a hamster with tan and white fur and brown hair. She looked absolutely disheveled and tired as if she would stay up and flinch at every bump in the night. She didn't even put up too much of a fight while being dragged, simply too tired to really be alive.“You are coming with us, whether you like it or not.”

she is far too close to getting the knife

I shiver remembering the warning.

Several days of having a frowny face can result in a villager stopping all primary functions. If certain needs aren’t met, they could stop living all together.

Suzette locks herself in her house because she doesn’t feel safe. And because of that she is dying.

“Agnes… it’s okay. We can bring back a bucket of water.”

“No, Shepherd. She needs this.” Agnes says. “Being cooped up in her hut all the time isn’t doing her any favors.”

And that was that.

Everyone seemed ready to head out to the river for a quick bath, Daisy Mae’s hat having assorted soap and bath toys in it while Joan carried a kettle and some towels. Digby and Isabelle, however, had everything ready to harvest some trees while we were out, along with some equipment just in case of an ambush or sudden raid. Even Petra and Merlin looked ready with a picnic basket at hand.

The river wasn’t a long walk from here, I remember crossing the bridge over it with Rover during my trip here. Within the hour, everyone was able to settle in and begin today’s activities.

“Aw! You’re not taking a bath?” Daisy Mae wines, puffing out her cheeks.

“No. Not right now.” I say, ruffling up her hair. “But maybe in a bit. After I work up a good sweat.”

“Hm… fine.” she groans.

Speaking of…

I’m just now realizing how strong Isabelle is as I watched her chop down trees like it’s nothing, showing off the hidden muscles that you wouldn’t even guess was there. It reminded me of how dangerous she really was, especially during combat.

Suddenly a cold sensation envelops me, a bucket of fresh river water being poured over my head, causing me to call out with a “Hey!”

“Saving graces, young Shepherd.” the culprit, Merlin, says. “You were emitting pheromones of arousal will ogling the fair Isabelle while her kin is not too far disjointed from either of you.”

The alchemist motions towards Digby, who hadn’t seemed to notice that you were staring at Isabelle, busy with the task at hand.

Saving graces was right, if Digby would have caught me, he would’ve kicked me into next Tuesday and buried me alive for sure.

“Aren’t you going to wash up?” I sigh, turning to him.

“Oh no, of course not!” he says, as if it was an obvious thing. “My fur is far too dense for that. I actually go through a dusting process that not only cleans my coat but it protects it by eliminating extra oils and moisture.”

“Oh…” i thought that Merlin was a squirrel… apparently not. “That’s fascinating.”

“Indeed.”

“And what of Petra.”

“Oh, my lovely assistant?” he says, motioning towards Petra who had decided to use this day to go fishing… without a fishing rod. She emerges from the river with a fish in her mouth, shaking the water off of her in a slow motion cinematic style. “She is truly something else, isn’t she?”

To be honest, you have so many questions about their relationship but you're not sure if you want to open that can of worms just yet.

“See? Was it worth all the fuss?” Agnes says, rinsing Suzette down as the hamster sits limply and idly. The hamster looked so frightened that it was painful to the eyes.

Watching everyone made you think back to the blueprints for the bathhouse that you were holding onto. You wouldn't have to wait or go outside of the fence if you built it.

“Um… hey.” i say, approaching the two. Agnes quirks an eyebrow before nudging Suzette into responding with a “Hi.”

“My name is Shepherd. I’m the one rebuilding the village to make it safer.”

“I’m Suzette.” she greets, refusing to make eye contact with me.

“Do… do you feel… Do you feel safe in Bellstone?”

“... i noticed that zombies aren’t scratching at my windows anymore.”

Not a direct answer but a sign of progress.

“Yeah… Isabelle, Digby, and I fixed the gates… and built a farm… and we’re working out some plans for a tavern, some new huts, and maybe a bathhouse, if we’re lucky.”

“...!” This seemed to get everyone's attention.

“Wait… really?” Agnes asks.

“Well, yeah… I don't see why not.”

“Don’t you think the materials could be used elsewhere?” Joan asks. “We really don’t mind coming to the river every now and again.”

“Of course, our health and mindset is the most important thing right now. So it’s not a waste of resources or anything.” I say, rub the back of my neck. “Not to mention that we are fortunate enough to be surrounded by resources, should we ever need to get more.”

“As nice as that sounds… perhaps we can discuss this later. We can speak of the multiple projects that need to transpire…” Digby says, grabbing my ear. “We shouldn’t go around making promises we can’t keep.”

“Yeah… i guess you’re right.”

“Thank you…” Suzette speaks up. “I’ve heard about how you've been working hard for the village’s sake.”

“And I will continue to.”

“Then if you don’t mind. Could you do me one favor?”

“Anything.”

“The noises. At night, the noises… they make me so petrified that I can't sleep…”

I nod my head in understanding.

“Done.”

Digby later sent me off to gather clay and sand from further down the river while him and Isabelle washed up, apparently very aware of my earlier gawking at her. He didn’t seem to appreciate it, threatening to gouge my eyes out if he catches me.

As we walked back, I noticed a sense of content throughout everyone. Tails wagging and ears perked, a general happy crowd. Daisy Mae skipped around everyone, asking what was going to be for dinner while Merlin discussed experiments with Joan and Petra.

“So... did you mean what you said back there?” Digby asks.

“Of course. I think we should start with the tavern first, like you had planned. Then maybe a local blacksmith for tools and smelting. Then, we can start with the houses while the bathhouse can be an ongoing effort along with some other side projects that i have been thinking about doing in the meantime.”

“That sounds great.” Isabelle beams. “I can’t wait to get started. Everyone seemed excited when you brought it up, so I’m sure that everyone is on board.”

“Speaking of which, earlier you told Suzette that you would do something about the noises at night… what exactly did you have planned?”

“Oh, i have an old jukebox that she can have." I say. “Though i don’t have a record disk…”

“Oh, that’s fine. Digby has a couple.”

“You like listening to music?” I ask, looking over at Digby.

“From time to time. As well as tea and a good book.” Digby says, a pink hue dotting his cheeks.

“...I’ll have to remember that.”

Day 12

The last couple of days had gone swimmingly, each one of us making more and more progress on our projects. The tavern was basically complete, Digby making the last couple interior decorating decisions while Isabelle worked diligently on the blacksmith, reconstructing it with the old hut that Joan and Daisy Mae once lived in. I stood at a crafting bench near the well, crafting the miscellaneous blocks that would be needed in the next set of projects.

And as luck and fate would have it, once a new residential place opened up, a new villager had arrived to fill it’s walls.

“Digby!!!” A pink otter tackles the gray Shi Tzu to the ground, smothering him with kisses as he struggles to breath.

“Wha!?! Lottie!?!” Digby scrambles to compose himself.

“Did you miss me? Cause I missed you! You didn’t even write! Do you know how many lonely nights I thought about you? I bet you didn’t… which makes me so sad.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Oh, well…” she says, curling her brown hair around her finger. “i heard that you were in a financial pickle so i basically begged Uncle Lyle to let me come see what i could do for you. Are you not happy to see me?”

“What?!? No… who said that?!?”

“Aw…. you do care!” she says, snuggling into him and giving him eskimo kisses.

“Is that the sound of merrymaking, i hear?” Merlin chuckles, walking towards the couple, Petra by his side. Digby’s face turns bright red.

“Was that Lottie that i just heard?” Isabelle asks, jogging up to the couple.

“Oh hi, Isabelle. I didn’t see you. I was a little excited to see Digby.”

“I can see.” Isabelle says with a wink. The two giggle at Digby’s expense. Digby whimpers, his face simmering with embarrassment. “Lottie… please get off.”

“No way. It’s been forever since i got to hold you like this.” she nuzzles him affectionately. Digby officially gives up, covering his face with his paws.

“I’m aware but I am in the middle of an important project… and we’re in public. Perhaps we can continue this later… in privacy?” he says, trying to maintain his composer.

“Speaking of which…” Lottie says with a mischievous smirk. “Until i have an official place to stay, can i stay in your hut?”

“It’s alright, Digby. Shepherd and I can take over here.” Isabelle says, ushering the couple away, much to her little brother’s dismay.

“So… that happened.”

“Yep. Isn’t love beautiful?” Isabelle sighs. I blush.

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been in it before… have you?”

“Hm…” Isabelle hums, tapping the bottom of her chin. “I’m not really sure. I love this village and everyone in it, but i don’t think that's the same. Perhaps one day.”

“...Yeah.” I chuckle, nervously. “One day.”

“Oh, I’m almost done with the smithery. Did you craft the necessary blocks?”

“Yep. Stone cutter, blast furnace, grindstone, and the smithing table. I also added a couple more furnaces and a crafting table. Couldn’t hurt to have one more around.”

“Don’t I know it.” Isabelle cuckles. “What did you have planned for the rest of the day?”

“Well, I have the bath house that I promised that i’d start or i can start on the town square or the merchant stands… did you have something in mind?”

“No, I was just wondering what I could help you with.”

“Oh, well… actually, there is one thing that I want to do before I begin anything else.” I say, heading off to Suzette’s hut, Isabelle following behind with a “What?”

“Oh… good morning.” Suzette says, barely opening the door.

“Hey… I wanted to show you something. I think you will like it.”

“Um… right now?”

“If it’s okay with you. I thought that you would appreciate coming with me while there is still light out.”

“I do…” Suzette says, peeking her head out before stepping out. I take her paw and lead her toward the tavern, opening the doors and showing her around.

“Digby seemed to have the idea that you could run this place. If you want that is.” I say, turning to her, only to find her sniffling and wiping tears from her face. “I-I’m sorry, please don’t cry.”

“You have no clue how much this means to me, Shepherd.” she says. “Not a clue. I’m so grateful.”

“Uh… mind clueing me in?”

“Just… just a bit. Before I moved to Bellstone, I lived in a village with a bunch of family and other critters. Worked with my ma and pa in the diner and fought with my brother, Graham, the nerd.” she chuckles fondly before shifting into a saddened look. “One day, a zombie raid happened midday out of nowhere. Not many of us made it out. The village was burned to the ground and graves were dug. I was a wreck, had a friend look over me and eventually dump me here when she got tired of taking care of me.”

“Oh…” What does anyone say to that?

“Just know that this is greatly appreciated.” she sas turning toward the kitchen. “Now… What should I make first? Perhaps something light?”

It warmed my heart to see Suzette unwind. I hope overtime perhaps everyone will come around to me like she has.

“Ah, just the right timing, I see.” Merlin smiles, holding up a cup. “Drink this.”

Everyone in the room looks warily at the cup before Petra volunteers to take the first sip. Her tongue slithers, licking her lips after the cup retreats from them.

“It’s milk.” she says simply. “Soy milk to be exact. The professor has been working really hard all night to perfect such a recipe. We also have samples of almond, rice, and peanut milk. Other tests will be run to make other substitutes.”

“Indeed. Using the new pressure machine that i have taken time to perfect, i can also now make tofu and specified oils and juices. This opens our options greatly.”

Suzette’s eyes sparkle.

“This is great news. Perhaps I should make a feast tonight. I feel as if there are a lot of things we could celebrate this evening.”

“Oh… that would be lovely.”

“Yeah… that reminds me…” I say, nudging at Isabelle. “There are some things that I need to speak to Isabelle about.”

Excusing ourselves, I led Isabelle to the well before turning to her.

“Not to dampen a happy moment… but we need to discuss our situation when it comes to bells. If we want to meet this month’s quota… we need to figure out how we are going to gather up enough bells.”

“Oh, Shepherd, don’t you worry.” she says, patting my head. “I already have this covered.”

“You keep saying that, but…”

“You don’t believe me.”

“No… that’s not it… I don't know… I want to help, if i can… I’ve been thinking about going to other cities to establish trade with them. Maybe take in some requests and offer some of the settlers some time to stay and see if they want to stay here. It’ll spread publicity…”

“While all that is great, it’ll take too much time.” Lottie says, walking toward us. I blush, noticing that she is wearing Digby’s shirt and tie. “What we need right now is to get a hold on reliable resources.”

“The Ressetti mines.” Isabelle says. “That’s the plan.”

“The what?”

“A good friend of mine, Mr. Resetti had an incident within his community. The mineshaft is known for having quite the prosperous arrangements. However, it’s been overrun as of late and needs clearing out.”

“And you planned on going alone?” I ask.

“...I did. But only when I knew that the town could function without me for a couple days… he’s not the only place I had in mind. There are multiple places within this forest that could use our help. The old lumber mill. The water tower. One of Cranny’s old ranger huts.”

“... I take it that these forests have been barren for a long while.” Lottie ponders.

“Unfortunately.” Isabelle nods. “That’s why Shepherd's idea is a good one. If we make a name for ourselves and make it safer for people to travel here, surely we can get our name out and expand.”

“Let’s not get too hasty. Finishing quests are dangerous and might not yield in profitable results like you expect them to… let’s see how this expedition in the mines go first. In the meantime, Digby and I will watch over the town.”

“Are you sure?” I ask, feeling all of this rush through my mind. If Isabelle and I are able to gather enough bells for this month’s rent, we’ll be extremely lucky. Something tells me that we’ve had it way too easy as of right now, though.

“We can head out in the morning towards Mythport. The mines aren’t too far from there.” Isabelle nods.

“We can notify all the villagers in the morning.” Lottie agrees.

#animal crossing fanfiction #animal crossing #fanfiction #original story #something to work on #originally posted on ao3 #part 2 #might post more #long reads #My writing #written for fun #might make fanart if requested #might be a series #wasting time #could be better

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Transcript of Setting the Stage for a Moment of Awakening

Transcript of Setting the Stage for a Moment of Awakening written by John Jantsch read more at Duct Tape Marketing

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John Jantsch: This episode of the Duct Tape Marketing Podcast is brought to you by Klaviyo. Klaviyo is a platform that helps growth focused e-commerce brands drive more sales, with super targeted, highly relevant email, Facebook and Instagram marketing.

Hello, and welcome to another episode of the Duct Tape Marketing Podcast This is John Jantsch, and my guest today is James Fell. He is a very popular health writer and speaker, and he is also the author of a book we’re going to talk about today. The Holy S!it Moment: How Lasting Change Can Happen in an Instant.

So, James, thanks for joining me.

James Fell: Thanks very much for having me on the show, John.

John Jantsch: So, we didn’t talk about this when we were off air, but that is the first time I’ve said that word on air. I run a very PG show here. I must admit though, I was in the airport the other day, and the top three best seller titles they had facing out, two of them had the F word in them, and one of them said ass.

I guess it’s just the world in we live in today, isn’t it?

James Fell: The funny thing is, is that I was at first opposed to that title. We don’t have to say it again. You want to be respectful of people that don’t want the potty mouth on their show, and that’s fine.

But, it came about because … The book is about the science of the life-changing epiphany, and that is what, in common vernacular, people will refer to it as. As a holy S moment.

John Jantsch: At that point, it’s not even a curse word to them, right? It’s like a phrase.

James Fell: Yeah. So, I was talking to my agent. We were weeks away from pitching it to publishers, and we still didn’t have a title. He said, “Just come up with 10 different title ideas, and send it to me,” and that one was one of the one’s on the list, and it was way down the list.

He came back, said, “Let’s call it this.”

I said, “I don’t know man, I don’t really like that one.”

He said, “No, it’s good. It’s accurate. I think publishers will like it, and later on we can change it, if we come up with something better. But, we need something now to pitch.”

I said, “Fine.”

As it turned out, the publishers loved the title. Everybody loved the title, and on and on since then. I’m still like, “I’m not to sure about it,” but so many people loved it, that through the process, when they heard about it, I said, “Okay, I guess it’s grown on me.”

So …

John Jantsch: Well, and I think, as you know, that’s kind of a phrase that people are used to. It’s not just gratuitous or uncreative, to stick it in there. I think that’s one that people can relate.

James Fell: Yeah, it’s a thing. People have used that term before. I didn’t invent it, I just turned it into a book title.

John Jantsch: As you mentioned, the book is about the science of life-changing epiphanies. When suddenly, someone has a sudden lightning strike of understanding that awakens their passion. I’m reading this from something you had written.

Would it be safe to say that your journey started that way? Your journey to becoming a very popular health writer, I should say?

James Fell: Well, it absolutely did. There was the big transformative event in my earlier 20s, that took me from a very lazy man, to an industrious hardworking one. I went from flunking out of school and being in debt, and drinking way too much, and in poor physical condition, to transforming everything, because of a sudden lightning strike of awakening.

Then, later on, there’s been more clarifying epiphanies that came later on. I ended up getting an MBA and working in business for about a dozen years. I didn’t hate it, but I didn’t love it either. It was about the age of 40 when I just said, “Life is too short to spend most of my waking hours doing something that I’m not really passionate about.”

And, I knew that writing was my passion. That it was something that was very excited, and I wanted to see if I could make a go out of it, and see if I could turn this into a career.

When I took that step, there was an overwhelming sense of rightness, that, “Yes, this is what I’m meant to do.”

I worked harder at that than I had ever worked at anything in my life, and it paid off. It was because I was so excited to do my job each day, that a year after I had my first published article, I had a column in the Los Angeles Times.

John Jantsch: Yeah. So, I don’t know, do you share what that epiphany was, or does that not make any sense to the story?

James Fell: Oh, the original one from my early 20s? Yes, I absolutely do. So, I tell that in chapter one. So, I was flunking out of university. I was about to be kicked out. I was overweight, and my credit card companies were calling. I read one of those motivation quotes.

Which, I’m not saying that I’m this huge fan of motivational quotes. It’s just that this one resonated at that space and time. I was just at the right point of my life to receive this sudden enlightenment. I read it in my university newspaper while I was sitting in the food court, and it was a quote, from all people, folk singer Joan Baez.

The quote read, “Action is the antidote to despair.”

When I read that, I realized that all of these problems I was facing down was of my own doing. It was a whole that a dug myself, and that I had the ability to take action to fix it all. All of these things could be fixed via my own effort.

So, that was the first sort of big insight. Then, the sudden flash of self reflection came, that made me realize that I had lazy my entire life, and I had skating through on cruise control, and that if I just got down and started to work really hard, that there was light at the end of the tunnel.

Then, what happens next in psychological terms is called dramatic relief. Where, you still see, all of those problems still exist. They’re still there. Still very real, but you’re relieved because you know your going to fix them. They’re going to be gone eventually, because you’re going to work towards the resolution. You see that light at the end of the tunnel, and I did.

Instead of going to the campus bar, to toss back beer, I went to the registrar’s office and launched an appeal to beg my way out of my failing report card. I told them, I went to that meeting saying, “I’m a changed man,” and they believed me. After that, I was a very good student.

John Jantsch: Well, great for them for taking a chance, because I bet you they’ve heard that story before.

James Fell: Maybe. Maybe the passion came through. I think I was pretty convincing, because I believed it. At my core, I believed that I had changed, and I guess they got that vibe. I ended up getting two master’s degrees.

John Jantsch: So, it was a good investment on their part too, right? Let me ask you this. Thousands of other people read that Joan Baez quote that day, and still flunked out.

My point is, what was the difference? Why did that strike you, and not those other thousand people? That quote, I don’t know if it was in a song, or something. That’s been around. That hasn’t moved a lot of people to act.

So, what was the thing going on in your brain, that made you choose to act? It’s like when that person … You know, my father-in-law tried to quit smoking for 25 years, and then finally decided to quit one day, and that was it. That was the end of the story.

I mean, what happened?

James Fell: Well, and your father-in-law’s example, there’s some research in the book about people that quit smoking. The ones that suddenly say, “That’s it, I’m done,” are far more successful than the ones that do the planned attempt.

John Jantsch: But, he did the planned attempt, 15 times. So, then one day, it just clicked.

James Fell: Yeah. So, the click was the one that worked, and that’s the research, that shows that those ones are more likely to be successful.

In my case, I was in the right space in time for a few different reasons. One is called crystallization of discontent. Where you have various different problems in your life, that individually they don’t seem like that big of a deal. But, when you are able to look at them as a whole, that whole becomes greater than the sum of its parts.

Where you read something akin to a breaking point, where you’re just like, I cannot go in this direction any longer. I think the thing that added the most weight to this was the fear of being kicked out of school made me wonder what’s my girlfriend going to think, because she was a straight A student who was destined for med school.

I worried, if I flunked out, that it would potentially spell doom for our relationship. That put more fear into me than anything else. That was something that felt unbearable to me. Was losing this woman that I loved. I think that was one of the things that really pushed me toward this realization, that I had to change.

Everything worked out. We’ve been together 29 years now.

John Jantsch: Want to remind you that this episode is brought to you by Klaviyo. Klaviyo helps you build meaningful customer relationships by listening and understanding cues from your customers. This allows you to easily turn that information into valuable marketing messages.

There’s powerful segmentation, email auto-responders that are ready to go. Great reporting. You want to learn a little bit about the secret to building customer relationships? They’ve got a really fun series called Klaviyo’s Beyond Black Friday. It’s a docu-series, a lot of fun. Quick lessons.

Just head on over to Klaviyo.com/BeyondBF, Beyond Black Friday.

You, in a previous book, wrote about weight loss, and you’ve worked with folks trying to lose weight. That’s probably another one of those, where somebody struggles for years, and then one day, or maybe six months, eight months later is 80 pounds lighter.

For some reason, something happened, and it clicked. Obviously, that’s very similar, probably, to the smoking, but is there a moment, or something that goes on in our brain, that makes something like that stick?

James Fell: Yes, and the answer’s a little bit complicated, so bear with me for a moment. That was actually, working with people who lost a lot of weight, was what first gave me the idea for this book. What it boils down to, it’s called the Rokeach’s Model of Personality, and it relates to what’s called The Identity Value Model of Self Control.

So, the Model of Personality is that … If you’ve ever seen the movie Shrek, he says, “Ogres are like onions.”

Well, people are like onions too, in that we have layers to our personality. At the external layer are our actions, our behaviors. Then, you go down a layer, and you’ve got beliefs, and then there’s attitudes, and then there’s your values.

Then, at the core is your identity, yourself. When people focus on changing something like weight loss, they focus on their behaviors. Eat better, eat less, get some exercise. If that is in conflict with your core identity and your values, that’s an incredible struggle.

It’s a model that’s built on suffering. Where you have to use willpower and grit, and it’s painful, and you gotta suck it up. The failure rate is tremendously high. It’s one of those reasons why we preach baby steps, where you minimize the suffering by just doing a little bit, that’s only a little bit uncomfortable. Eventually, you get used to it, and you slowly develop habits, and drag yourself over a motivation tipping point.

The failure rate of that is just so high, because it’s just such an uninspiring way to approach it. Now, the shift that we talk about in this book, with the life changing epiphany is it’s not about changing behaviors, it’s about changing core identity and core values. So, the example of a man named Chuck Gross. Chuck weighed over 400 pounds.

He had been heavy his entire life. He was the epitome of the person, that the likelihood of them losing weight and keeping it off was extraordinarily remote. He had tried and failed to lose weight many times. Then, something very unexpected happened. His wife came out of the bathroom, and holding in her hand was a positive pregnancy test.

At first, he said he was overjoyed at the prospect of being a father. Like I said, it was unexpected. Then, he realized, in a flash, that this time he was going to lose weight, it was going to work, he was going to keep it off. The reason why is what shifted was his identity.

In a moment, he went from not a father, to, congratulations buddy, you’re going to be a dad, and along with that came an entirely new set of values. Which were, I value of the idea of being a really fit father, that can rough house with my kids, and have a good, long healthy life, and be that type of a role model for my children, and all that type of thing.

For him, this was more important than anything else in his life. It was more important than sitting on the couch. It was more important than overeating on treat food. Here’s a direct quote from Chuck, “I didn’t have to struggle with my motivation. It came built in.”

He said, it was a fait accompli. It was a tremendous sentence of relief, that he knew that his weight problem … He still weighed over 400 pounds, but he knew that his weight problems were over, because he was going to lose it, and that was all there was to it.

He lost over 200 pounds, and he’s kept it off more than a decade, because of that core identity and value shift.

John Jantsch: So, we’ve been talking primarily about somebody trying to change a bad habit. Smoking, losing weight, or eating healthy. How does this apply to that person that wakes up one day, and goes, “This is what I’m going to do with my life,” or, “This is how I’m going to innovate this product.”

It applies equally, doesn’t it?

James Fell: Oh, absolutely. So, there’s the breaking point concept, of maybe rock bottom, or just crystallization of discontent. Then, there’s also the good-to-great scenario, which I’m stealing that line, as the title of a book by James Collins.

Which is a great book about how corporations can have tremendous success, and I reference the book a number of times in mine. It’s all about the vision quest. Where, suddenly you have this new passion in life that’s been unlocked, which is like me with writing. That, I felt that I had to become a writer, and I worked harder at that than anything I ever have.

I got to tell you, making it as a writer isn’t easy. You got to work hard. There’s examples of that in the book. Of one woman, she had an epiphany while she was walking across the parking thought. That she was going to go back to school and get her PhD in pharmacology.

Another example is of a woman that decided to move away from home, to launch a new career, because she just realized that her family environment wasn’t good for her anymore. So, these types of quests, where it’s about finding purpose in life.

So, I know that a lot of books have been written about happiness, how to be a happier person. Well, happiness is mostly a state of mind, and I think, some people, it may always elude them, and other people are just naturally happy, no matter what happens.

This is about flourishing. Where, you look at what your capacities and your talents and your abilities and your education and your wisdom all makes who you are. You look at that, and you realize, “What could I do with this? If I was suddenly inspired to strive for it, what could I use with my internally abilities and my situation? How could I make myself a better person, and improve? Do things that are good for me, and good for other people, and maybe even go on to change the world?”

That is the type of thing that will drive you endlessly. It will keep you awake at night, when you should sleep. I’m a big fan of these ambitious quests. I refer to it as, you know what, impossible dreams, you need to let those go. Implausible dreams can be incredibly motivating, because the potential upside has so much value for us, that we feel, the realization of this quest would be so amazing, that I gotta do it. I gotta chase it, I gotta give it a try.

John Jantsch: I mean, that’s the closest thing there is to a process for this, because I can see listeners going, “Okay, this is great, but how do I find my moment?”

What you just described is sort of the process, isn’t it?

James Fell: Yeah, that’s an incredibly 50,000 foot executive summary view. I wrote an entire book, and it’s not a short book. It’s a long the longer, that is filled, beginning or end, with action items. To use an MBA term.

There are tasks I give the reader all the way through, of things that you can do to have your holy S moment, your life changing epiphany. It’s really hard to boil down into a couple of minutes, but a lot of it can involve … First, believing that it can happen.

These types of experiences are very common. We’re seeing the approximately one-third of people have them without even trying. If you start to put effort into it, by believing that it’s something that can happen for you. Most of us sort of go through life on cruise control, without spending too much time thinking, “Well, what do I want to do with the rest of my life? What is it that would really bring me joy and allow me to flourish as a human being?”

Spending time, analyzing what your capacities and talents are, what that might entail as the new version of you, 2.0, and what you can do that would be good for you and good for other people, and really give you an overwhelming vision of success for the future, and spending time analyzing that.

Then, here’s the real key point. The solution to the problem, of what do I do with the rest of my life, doesn’t come while you’re actively trying to solve the problem. During that analytical phase is when you’re filing away bits of information into your unconscious brain. Then, when the answer comes is when you’re not actively trying to solve it. When you’re in a distracted state.

Which is why I’m a big fan. I tell readers, “Go for a walk, leave your phone at home.”

Take a shower, and don’t … Even if you have a waterproof phone, don’t take it in there with you. Meditate, pray. Prayer is a common one, because it’s another form of medication.

Just get used to lying on the couch without distraction, and letting your mind go anywhere. No offense to the work that you do, but if you’re going for a walk, don’t listen to a podcast, because you need to get comfortable with being alone with your own thoughts. That’s when these sudden insights arrive, when you least expect it.

But, there is the pre-work that you can do, to put the information into your brain. That, during this distracted state, allows those little bits of information to meander and collide, and gel in a profound way, that suddenly delivers unto you the answer. Which, can be incredibly motivating, because you’re suddenly very excited, and there’s a positive neurochemical rush, that says, “Oh, yeah. This is it. This is what I got to do.”

John Jantsch: You know, we’ve been talking, of course, about people that … You mentioned the person that had a lot of weight to lose, and smokers, and that person who’s destitute, back against the wall. They have that decision time.

Sometimes I think there’s a far greater amount of people that are stuck in, “Everything’s okay,” or in mediocrity land, who don’t realize that they maybe are suffering as much as they are.

James Fell: That’s absolutely right. There’s some research in the book about that. When life is good, we become risk averse. The person who reaches a breaking point has nothing to lose. Where as, where life is good, we see people who are suffering. We’re like, “I don’t want it to be like that,” and that can demotivate us to go on an ambitious quest.

But, you have to realize … There’s a great quote, that I put in the book, by radio personality, Earl Nightingale. Earl Nightingale was one of the few men who survived the sinking of the USS Arizona in the battle of Pearl Harbor. So, this guy knew about struggle.

This quote is, “Most of us tiptoe through life, trying to make it safely to death.”

When I read that, I was like, “I don’t want to be like that.”

Other people may read it, and say, “Yeah, what’s wrong with that. That’s fine,” and that’s okay. If that’s the way you think. If you want to tiptoe through life and make it safely to death, that’s okay. I won’t judge you for that.

But, if you read that, and say, “No, that’s not for me. I want to make it unsafely to death. I want life to be more of a thrill ride, where I feel like I realized my true potential.”

William James is considered the father of American psychology, and in the 19th century, he wrote about how most people only utilize a fraction of their potential, and that if you start thinking about what could I do if I was truly inspired. If motivation was not a scarce resource. If I had all the motivation I needed to do something, what would that something be?

Start asking yourself that question. What’s the harm in investigating the question? You never know what answer might pop up.

There’s another quote, TS Eliot wrote, “We do not know what egg it is we’ve been sitting on until the shell cracks. You need to be ready to embrace the audacious.”

You never know. You may end up becoming so inspired, that when this answer comes to you, the world better watch out, because you can be capable of more than you imagine.”

Other people may not see it. Maybe, right now, you don’t even see it. But, when something wakes up. When people wake up with these visions and missions, the world gets changed.

John Jantsch: There’s a Dylan Thomas poem. It’s one of my favorites. “Do not go quietly into that great good night,” that really talks about that idea of raising a ruckus while you’re here, because we’re all going to die.

James Fell: Oh, yeah.

John Jantsch: So, you only get one chance at this. So, James, where can people find out more about your work, your writing, and of course, pick up The Holy Sh!t Moment?

James Fell: So, my website is BodyForWife.com. Yes, that was the lovely woman I was talking about earlier. BodyForWife.com.

If they click the book tabs, there’s links to every possible purchasing platform, including audio. If people didn’t mind listening to my voice, I’m the one who did the narration for the audio version, and I’m also very active on Facebook.

I’ve got a big interactive following at Facebook.com/BodyForWife, and less active on Twitter. Which is @BodyForWife.

John Jantsch: We, of course, put these in the show notes. So, people will be able to click on them if they head on over to Duct Tape Marketing.

So, James, thanks for joining us. Really enjoyed the chat. Going to dig into the book myself, and hopefully we can run into you someday out there on the road.

James Fell: Thanks so much, John. It’s been a pleasure.

from http://bit.ly/2MGn590

#Marketing Plan

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seopt58147 · 5 years