And with so much shouting going on in general, people are turning less and less.

Be known for value, not volume.

What’s your thimble? I’d love to hear about it in the comments.

Here’s the manifesto for Courage Studio, and it’s oozing creed.

A whole bunch of people helped make it wonderful by adding their inspiration and their talents, visually and verbally. Thanks so very much to Rick Brozek, Crys Williams, Fabeku Fatunmise, Patti Digh, Michele Woodward, David Cohen, Diane Hunter, and Cath Duncan.

Want a printable version? Just click!

Courage Studio started as an inspiration four years ago when I went through coach training. It was one of those dreamy-name-y kinds of inspirations so I registered the domain name and let it sit while I experimented with other business ideas. Some were grindingly slow and were eventually abandoned; others have been delightful and full of spark.

But when I would pause and wonder about my work and what was important to me, my mind would always wander back to the idea of Courage Studio, and I would double-check that I hadn’t let the domain registration lapse.

I just kept wondering: What does it take to do something that really matters? And, how could I help others achieve what they believe really matters?

It’s about values. Values of strong intentions, putting your values into action, and the value of offering yourself up to Relationship with a capital R through community.

We’re living in a time when you might think it’s all about rapid fame and I’ve-got-mine-now-let-me-have-yours. That’s not what this is about.

Courage Studio is for entrepreneurs who want to build communities, not empires.

It’s for people who recognize that we can do a lot more together than we can do alone.

It’s for people who have avoided grabbing the third rail of their own internal power because they’ve only heard the story that it could kill you (or your life as you knew it). What if it’s exactly the juice that you need to go full steam ahead?

Stay tuned… we’ll be blogging a lot here about how to do things that matter.

Want a sneak peak? Check out the graphical interpretation that Julie Stuart did during a long strategy session about the Studio. Huge thanks, Julie, for giving the ideas a uniquely creative flow.

Courage Studio is all about flow: how to get it, how to sustain it, and how to get it back after the inevitable bumps in the road.

It’s been quite the courage-building experience to get this out of my head and into the world. I am beyond thrilled that you’re reading this and experiencing this moment of flow with me.

Thank you, and let’s go in courage,

Most of those additional 3 years were spent working on my senior project. And reworking. And re-reworking. The rest of the time was spent trying (unsuccessfully) to ignore it altogether.

Every week that it was late, the better I felt it had to be. I was compelled to prove the extra time valid by producing work that was truly great…greater…greatest.

I hid in my living room, miles away from the classroom and the critical eyes of my peers and professors, working…reworking…re-reworking.

Again and again, I would arrive at the last 10% of my project and rule it craptaculous, crumple pages of drawings into the trashcan, and start over from the tattered original sketches.

It horrifies me now, almost twice the age I was then, to recall striving for a perfection that my 25-year-old Self was desperate to achieve but couldn’t define.

But it delights me to remember what finally nudged me across the finish line. I showed my hoarded pages to Mina, an artist friend who was all-too-familiar with the challenges of releasing creative work into the world. She said—

“It’s good. Definitely good enough. For goodness sake, Crystal, just turn it in.
It’s not like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do.”

She was right. And so I did.

It was terrifying.

What if, after all this time, my professor wouldn’t accept it? What if, despite Mina’s in-couraging words, it wasn’t good enough? What if, now that I’d abandoned the (literal) drawing board, the senior advisor sent me back to it?

I did it anyway.

And I don’t remember actually handing it to anyone or what their response was, but I do remember walking across the stage in front of friends, family, fellow students, and professors, shaking the dean’s hand, taking my diploma, and bowing to the crowd’s applause. They all knew my struggle and they all shared my triumph.

***

I think, if not for the loving kick-in-the-butt from my friend, I’d still be there. Hiding.

Working, reworking, re-reworking.

Keeping my work secret. Keeping it safe.

It makes sense, really, that we’d want to shield our heart’s work from the painful pokes of failure, criticism, fear, and shame. It’s instinctual to protect what we treasure…and what could be more precious than our dream made real?

But here’s a thing I know for sure—

Your work won’t be fully realized until it’s shared

The last item on every to-do list should be the action that brings our work out of hiding and holds it high: Publish. Post. Upload. Tweet.

***

Let there be no mistake: Sharing my work is still a trial of the soul. The last 10% of any project just about kills me. I procrastinate. I hesitate. I meditate. I resist the urge to start again. I cry. I fret. I eat a lot of chocolate pudding. I drink a lot of milkshakes.

But I also share. I show my husband, then trusted friends, and then compassionate advisors. In ever-widening circles, I trot out the goods and collect ideas, feedback, and impressions…gathering momentum for that final nudge into the world.

And if you’re struggling to bring your work into the light, I in-courage you to do the same.

There’s no prize at all for being a busy little bee who makes a whole lotta honey that no one else sees.