6th – 7th January 2013

Awake. In the middle of the night.
Happens a lot these years.

I do what I often do: get up, do some exercises, have a cup of tea, go back to bed and try to follow my breathing, meditation style.

Tomorrow’s another day, I think.

Tomorrow, there’s another chance.

—For what, Mundo? Beating around the bush?

…

Yeah.

Something’s yearning to come out.

For months.

No, for much longer than months.

I flick the bedside lamp on again. This time, I grab my notebook and start to write. Everything I’ve known for aeons but never allowed myself to know flows onto the page.

One page becomes many, and with every fresh sheet, the writing becomes simpler.

Things can’t go on like this.
I can’t to go on like this.
Things can be better, things can change—have to change—now.

We’re working our asses off to make Wovox asuccess—no, wait, we’re working our asses off to make space to make Wovox a success.

By chasing clients we don’t want to work with…
by taking on projects we don’t want to take on…
by doing a big hell of a lot of things that have nothing to do with Wovox…
and this sixty to eighty hours a week, every week…

All for a space that remains a promise.

Even with the bare minimum we pay ourselves, we lose money almost every month. We’re up to our necks in water, the tap keeps flowing, and we’re mopping the floor like monkeys.

And all of this is because of me. At least, that’s what I’ve allowed myself to be told, often by Steven and mostly by myself. Because I’ve got the brains and the wits, I could make tons of money with one hand tied behind my back, and I don’t. Because I’m a slave to limiting beliefs that want to keep me small and block our success. So I mop, because mopping will teach me.

‘Yes, correct,’ my hand writes. ‘And incorrect.’

Yes, I’m keeping myself small, and yes, I’m standing in the way of success… by denying my intuition.

By allowing myself to be told what the world and I are made of.

As I write, I relive moments in which I handed over an innate power to other people and to circumstances—more moments than I’d like to admit. But they don’t make up all of my history. There have been moments when I responded to a spontaneous, inner impulse. Sometimes such an impulse was welcomed by others; sometimes it was dismissed as stupid, ridiculous or never-going-to-work. If I followed the impulse anyway, it would invariably lead me to memorable encounters, unforgettable experiences, happy people, and—in cases of ‘business’—money gained instead of money lost.

But looking back, in all honesty, I mostly see myself going against my grain. Allowing others—plus the not-so-innate parts in me—to tell me where to go. Bowing to those kinds of impulses has invariably led me into bottomless pits, crappy experiences, drained people and a drained Raymundo.

This is no breaking news.

I’ve known this for ages.

And sure, I’ve stood up for it, more than once even.

But almost always, I bowed again.

So yes, it is because of me. I’m doing things half, half against the other and half against myself. Most of my actions lack joy, power, and spice. Except the ones that come from an innate Yes or No. A Yes or No that I feel instead of think (or take over from others). Then I go, permission slip or no permission slip, and then things happen whole.

And I no longer want to live for less than whole.
I want to express the life that lives in me.
I want to contribute to a world that lives instead of fights and survives.
And I want to do this now, not someday or never.

There it is. Yes. A huge, familiar Yes welling up inside of me. The Yes that never left me, but which I never felt so strongly—allowed so strongly—as true.

Man, I feel… this feels…

I fall into a deep sleep. A few hours later, the alarm clock rings and my head immediately fills with yes-buts and what-nows. In the days that follow, I eat, walk, sit, work, sleep, weigh, pro and con—because I want to make it work with Wovox.

Yeah, but it no longer works with Wovox.
—Yeah… But what if we come up with a structure that…
And how does that feel?
—Like shit…

On day three I visit a potential Wovox client. He shows interest in one of our products and I make a proposal.

He wants a discount.
He’s not getting a discount.
I don’t care about his ‘yes’ or ‘no’.

He says ‘yes’.

I, who cannot sell, sell.

So… Does this mean I should keep going?

Back at the office, I quietly sit at the lunch table. Sven sits across from me. He, Michel and I have become the ‘operational heart’ of Wovox.He’s asking me how the meeting went. I mumble ‘good’ and ‘deal’ but don’t feign enthusiasm. There is enthusiasm—a super-natural and frigging exciting enthusiasm—but that enthusiasm I keep under the table.

For a change, I go home before five. Walking to the metro station, I feel an impulse to call Korrie. Almost four years after I first met her and the Mat, she’s more than my holistic therapist—she’s a dear friend. She answers the phone and I drop right in.

‘Korrie, I feel like I’m standing in front of a big decision. Can I come around?’

Thirty minutes later, she opens the door, greets me with two curious eyes, and I start laughing. A thousand kilograms slide off my back.

I go in and we sit down, needing but a few words. Like me, she’s known for ages, but unlike me, she’s seen this moment coming for ages.

Again I find myself at an edge, yet this time I’m not looking at an emergency staircase—I see a diving board.

I know I’m going to jump.

I’m up to my neck in excitement.