My friend mentioned how she’d been getting calls recently from younger clients, and initially had turned them away, figuring they wouldn’t fit in with her “regular,” older, more established clientele—and then she realized that if she herself just opened up to the idea, she could work with these younger folks just fine.
Then it occurred to her to refine her approach to all of her clients. She now interviews them using questions that encourage them to describe what their ideal experiece might feel like—not, as she formerly did, to describe the thing or situation they’re looking for. This new approach has opened them up to new possibilities, ones they might not otherwise have thought about. So she now has new clients and new opportunities.
Her comments reminded me about a seemingly unrelated event that happened a few days ago: I had come home from a riding lesson and couldn’t find my cell phone.
Losing my phone is a pretty regular occurrence, alas, so it was nothing out of the ordinary to have misplaced it.
I looked all through the house, in every room (whether I thought I’d been in there or not). No phone. Well, it must be in the pocket of my coat, I thought. But then I realized I couldn’t find my coat, either.
It was a chilly day, so obviously I had been wearing a coat, and the phone was almost certainly in the pocket. I repeated the search through the house, this time looking for the blue barn coat. Nowhere! I looked and looked, retracing my steps half a dozen times, getting more and more frantic all the while. “Am I losing my mind? It has to be in here somewhere! Where else could it be?”
Finally, I sat down in tears of frustration. And then a voice in my mind said, “Open up.” What? “Open up to other possibilities.”
Instantly, I knew exactly where the phone was: in the pocket of the blue barn coat that I’d worn to my riding lesson. I remembered getting on the horse and realizing the coat was too heavy and hot to wear on that mild, rainy day; so I handed it to the instructor. Afterwards, when I gathered up my things to head home, I put on the rain jacket that I had been wearing over the blue coat.
Oh. “Open up to other possibilities.”
Harness horses wear blinders or blinkers on each side of their face to keep them focused on what they’re doing, instead of spooking at everything going on beside them. We humans all “wear blinders” fashioned by our preconceived attitudes or internalized restrictions. These keep us focused, too—but in our case, they often keep us from seeing possibilities that may exist outside our narrow habits of thought and action.
I think that what is happening for both my friend and me in our lives and our business ventures is that we’ve opened up to new possibilities—and that opening up means a greater scope of good things available for us to attract.
It was funny for me to see this idea operating at the scale of a missing phone—but noticing the event makes me realize just how much my life, my daily activities, are affected by my “tunnel vision.” It’s a bit worrisome to notice it in areas that I fret about but don’t focus on, like my messy house (surely there’s a possibility that it could become neat) and my yard (with some time and effort, those weeds could be managed).
Anyway, it was a very interesting conversation. I will make some changes in my thinking!
Photo from Wikimedia Commons.