You and a whole lot of people are in a line. A really long line. Up ahead you can see the Golden Gate, the destination, the way, the place where you can have it all. And you get to the gate and a hunking mass of muscle stuffed into a suit asks for your ticket. And you’re like, “what, where’s my damn ticket?”
You search frantically, turning your pockets upside down and you’re about to stick your hand down the front of your dress because maybe somehow, your ticket to the Golden Gate will be found there somehow, right? Wrong.
A whole bunch of us are in this line. We need to get to the other side. We need to find our genius, our creativity. We need so badly to be ourselves but our self-doubt, self-disgust, self-absorption and other people’s opinions are standing at the gate, demanding for our ticket, our permission slip, asking us who the hell we think we are.
Let me tell you something. You don’t have a ticket because you don’t need a ticket. You don’t need anyone’s permission to be creative or to be yourself. You don’t need anyone’s permission to live. You don’t need anyone’s permission to exist. The fact that you’re here, shows that you have a right to be here. So walk right in and do your thing.