Book Excerpt: Between Trapezes
Author: Gail Blanke

One More Defining Moment

Several years ago, I was fortunate to be invited by the Oprah Winfrey Show to talk about my new book, In My Wildest Dreams. Before the taping began, one of the producers met me in the green room and explained that they were taping opening segments for several other shows. Before I went on, Oprah would come to the green room and we would chat for about ten minutes. Then I'd go to the set, where there would be two big yellow chairs. Oprah would sit in one, and I'd sit in the other. We'd talk to the audience a bit, and then Oprah would start the show. "What I really want is energy, Gail, okay?" said the producer. "Energy. Badda-bing, badda-bang, badda-boom. Got it?"

She left the green room, and I sat there for an hour and a half. By myself. I remember wishing that I'd brought my book with me, so I could read it and remember what in God's name I had to say. Whatever made me think I could do this? I wondered, apprehensively watching the monitor. Oprah said that she hated her hair. And why, for that matter, while she was thinking about it, did she ever decide to wear this thick gray and yellow striped sweater? It made her look fat, she said. She also mentioned that she had bean soup for lunch, and you know how that makes you feel. You know how much the audience loves it when Oprah says what everyone else is thinking about themselves? But for me, all I could think about was how my energy was continuing to plummet. When it was time for me to go on, the producer explained that they were running late, so Oprah wouldn't have time to come back and chat. I walked out onto the set, where Oprah reclined in one of the big yellow chairs.

"Hi, I'm Gail," I said.

She shook my hand, looked at the director, and said three words that are now needlepointed onto a pillow in my office.

"Get the bench."

Huh? Get the bench? I wondered what on earth that meant, just as many years before, I'd wondered what did my mother mean when she said I was "the tailored type." And of course, being only human, my mind leapt to the worst-case scenario. This was undoubtedly some TV updated version of the old vaudeville saying, "Get the hook." Or this was probably producer lingo for, "I'm not doing this show with this chick."

While I continued to ponder these imponderables, growing more anxious and fretful by the minute, they took away the yellow chairs and Oprah said, "You sit on the bench. I'm going to sit in the audience."

The producer came over and, trying to pep me up, whispered, "I want a lot of energy, Gail. Badda-bing, badda-bang, badda-boom."

My whole life passed in front of me in about a second and a half. What on earth was I doing here anyway? What on earth ever made me think I was good enough to do an entire hour of Oprah?

Desperately determined to get my strength back, I asked myself the following questions: What am I doing here? What am I committed to? What am I out here for? I could have been committed to being right about the fact that it's not very nice to just put a woman on a bench. But I knew that in reality I was committed to making sure that everyone in that room, and everyone in that television audience, came away with a new sense of what was possible in their lives.

So what did I have to make "Get the bench" mean in order to make good on my commitment? I decided -- because I realized that I got to decide what it meant -- exactly what it meant, in this moment, now. "Get the bench" meant "Oprah trusts you. Go ahead, Gail. Take the show." If Oprah trusts me, who am I not to trust myself?

And so I did.

Within moments, both Oprah and I were out of our seats and into the audience, keeping not only my commitment but hers: that people leave the show with a new sense of what was possible in their lives. In the end, Oprah embraced me as only Oprah can. An embrace from Oprah is a defining moment.

But I had learned something important, a lesson that you can say a hundred times but that you have to live before it really sinks in. Ultimately, it didn't matter what Oprah thought "Get the bench" meant. It mattered what I made it mean.

We get to create our own defining moments, which clarify who we are in ways that make us better and stronger and smarter and happier than we have ever felt before in our lives. It was I who left that room that day more aware of the possibilities out there in my own life. That is why I am writing this book -- and doing my best to keep living it, ever minute of the day. We all have our defining moments, which tell us who we really are, not what other people want us to be.

Exercise One: See the New Trapeze

Ask yourself, "If absolutely anything were possible, what would I love to have happen?" Not what would be nice, or what seems reasonable. Forget reasonable. Think big. What would I love to do? Whom would I love to be? How good could it be? Write the answer to these questions in a spiral-bound notebook that you use exclusively with this book. Your "Flight Log" will be critical to helping you discover your new life.

Exercise Two: Tell the Story of Your Life

Write a story describing a day in your ideal life. Start with, "Once there was a thirty-six-year-old woman who lived in Chicago. She was a producer for an award-winning news program. Every day she . . ."

"Once there was a fifty-eight-year-old man who lived on a ranch in Montana with his horses and a fabulous woman who loved him a lot. Each day they rode into the mountains and . . ."

Where do you live? Where do you work? Who else is in your life? Start with the time you wake up, and describe the day in as much detail as possible -- right down to what you have for lunch and when you take the dog for a walk. The more clearly you see your castle, the more inspiring your journey to it will be.

Exercise Three: Cast Yourself Against Type

Examine the negative assumptions you've been carrying around about yourself. Trapeze artists have a saying, "Fat Don't Fly." They don't mean body fat, they mean brain fat. "I'm not the salesman type. I'm not the flirtatious type. I'm not the type to stand up in front of people and speak." "I'm the shy type." "I'm not the political type." Who made up all that stuff? Did you or did someone else? It doesn't really matter. The important thing is to drop these assumptions if they don't serve you.

You're not a type. You are a living, breathing organism full of stunning surprises and bold actions. So just for fun, do something that is decidedly against your "type." If you are the shy and retiring type, show up at an event you'd typically skip and -- as the "gregarious type" -- introduce yourself to everyone there. If you are the self-deprecating type, catch yourself whenever you deflect a compliment by putting yourself down. Substitute a gracious, secure, and reaffirming response.

To you: "I thought that was a great presentation last week. I got a lot out of it."

Old response: "Really? I thought I was a little bit off."

New response: "Thanks, that means a lot to me."

Reprinted from: Between Trapezes: Flying into a New Life with the Greatest of Ease by Gail Blanke © 2004 by Gail Blanke. (August 2004; .95US/.95CAN; 1-57954-928-4) Permission granted by Rodale, Inc., Emmaus, PA 18098. Available wherever books are sold or directly from the publisher by calling (800) 848-4735 or visit their website at www.rodalestore.com.







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Gail Blanke is a motivational speaker, executive coach, and president and CEO of Lifedesigns. Her mission is to enable people to thrive on change and master the art of self-reinvention in an unpredictable and insecure world. As the author of the best-selling In My Wildest Dreams: Simple Steps to a Fabulous Life, she has appeared on Oprah, and her work has been featured in the Wall Street Journal, Time, Redbook, and Ladies Home Journal.

For more information, please visit Gail Blanke's Web site, www.betweentrapezes.com, or www.writtenvoices.com.

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