Two days before I boarded a plane to Paris for one of the most important speaking engagements of my life, something happened. I won’t share what—it’s not the point. What matters is this: it shook me. It hit me deep and hard. My body felt it before my mind could process it. My sleep was broken. My thoughts raced. My breath was shallow. I kept asking, “Why now?”
That moment, let’s just call it the wave crashed into everything. And when waves crash, it doesn’t ask for permission.
And yet… I still went to Paris.
Because sometimes, when life be lifing, when it throws its wild, untamed, chaotic poetry at you. You show up anyway. You have bills to pay.
What is “Life Be Lifing”?
It’s not a typo. It’s a phrase I stumbled across that spoke a truth most of us feel but rarely name. When life is doing its thing around you. It won’t ask for your plans. It won’t coordinate with your calendar. It will crash your highest moment with your lowest one.
It’s not trying to destroy you.
It’s a deep and sacred invitation for you to grow.
The Stoics say, The obstacle is the way. Not a detour. Not a test. The way. Buddhism calls it dukkha; suffering as a fundamental part of life that reveals deeper truths. In my world, it’s become a quiet understanding: when Life be lifing, it’s not punishment. It’s sacred instruction.
Paris – The Sparkling Water and French Onion Soup
After the wave hit, I flew to Paris, still raw. And if I’m honest, I questioned whether I should even go. I was drained emotionally. Unsettled spiritually. Barely holding it together, if I’m honest. I wasn’t sure I could deliver. But I had made a commitment, and others were counting on me. I was slated to speak at a roundtable filled with top executives. I couldn’t phone it in.
And right as I began to ground myself in Paris, walk the streets, breathe the air, look up at the sky. A call came in. More bad news. Personal. Jarring. The kind of news that makes your chest tighten. Again, I won’t get into the details. But let’s just say, it was heavy.
Now I wasn’t just trying to show up. I was fighting to stay present, to manage normal functions, like breathing.
And somehow, in the midst of all that chaos, I heard the whisper: Just be with it.
That had been one of the themes in my life. Be with what is, nothing more or less, and let go of resistance. No performance. No pretending. No suck it up. Just presence. Not easy. Not romantic. Just real.
The Roundtable
The day of the roundtable arrived. I was tired. My thoughts were not sharp. But I was clear on one thing: I could not let the moment define me. I could not pretend I was unaffected. And I also could not let it stop me from delivering what I came to give.
So I grounded. I meditated. I whispered a quiet prayer to myself before I walked in.
And I delivered.
Was it my best talk ever? No. But it was good. Solid. Honest. Human. And maybe, just maybe, that’s what made it powerful. Not perfection, but presence. That I could deliver even in the face of my own shadows.
I shared what I knew. I listened deeply, I even added some dry humor. I brought truth and strategy. I served.
And when I walked out of that session, I didn’t feel victorious. I felt whole. Because I had held all of it, my pain, my purpose, my fatigue, my fire, and still offered something of value.
The Café Moment
Later that evening, I sat at a small Parisian café. Sparkling water in hand, my go-to. A bowl of onion soup in front of me. Because when in Paris, why not. Warm, rich, satisfying, and absolutely delicious. The sky was a deep, soft blue-grey, the kind of color that lets you feel both beauty and melancholy at the same time. It felt like I was sitting in a French film, cinematic, surreal, suspended in time..
I took a sip. I took a breath.
And I realized something that changed me: We are capable of holding infinite depth.
In that moment, I wasn’t trying to escape the sadness. And I wasn’t trying to chase joy or relief. I was allowing both to be true at once. The pain hadn’t disappeared. But it didn’t own me. The joy of the moment didn’t erase the hard news. But it stood beside it, equally real.
I didn’t need to resolve the paradox. I just needed to hold it.
That’s the power of life be lifing.
Why This Matters in Sales (and in Life)
So what’s the point?
Sales is a human practice. And behind every seller, every buyer, every quota, every deal, there’s a person. With waves. With stories. With real life happening, often right before the Zoom call.
This experience reminded me of two essential truths:
- Have compassion. You never know what the person across from you is carrying. Kindness isn’t weakness. It’s wisdom.
- We can hold more than we think. As sellers, as leaders, as humans, we are often told to separate emotion from execution. But the truth is, if we learn how to be with what’s present, not bury it, we become deeper listeners, more powerful presenters, more grounded advisors, better humans who can help others.
Because when you’ve walked through your own personal fire and still showed up with grace… you don’t need a script. You become the message. People recognize that. And they’re drawn to it, not to your performance, but to your presence.
And from that place? You can sell with integrity. You can serve with strength. You can lead with empathy.
That’s Sales Sovereignty.
When life be lifing, don’t shrink.
Don’t run.
Don’t fake it.
Breathe.
Feel it.
Speak anyway.
And when you do?
You’ll realize that your depth is your edge. Your pain is part of your presence. Your story is part of your sovereignty.
Let it be.
Let it shape you.
Then get back to serving.
Because the world needs what only you can give, especially when you’ve lived through the storm and still chose to show up with love.