Every day Storyfox copywriter Sydney wakes, excited to be alive. I spend 40 minutes in prayer and meditation; there is something in the soul that feeds on silence. It touches on the mythical. I feel as if I am my own ancestor at the beginning of time.
I make a cup of tea (I’d like to start with a coffee, but I believe coffee on an empty stomach doesn’t do the lining of the gut any favours) and I’m still excited, busy with ideas. Then the moment to start ‘work’ arrives. Excitement vanishes like a frighted cat and I’m alone with myself; as cold, loveless and unfruitful as a stone, and it scares me. How do you squeeze blood out of that?
I begin. I remember. Everything present has roots in the past.
From the kitchen window where I have returned to wash my cup, I see the grass is vivid green –so much recent rain! And in the grass a colony of mushrooms has established. I mean, they’re visible above the grass. They are a kingdom, or at least a city, unto themselves. I notice them because they’re there, and they weren’t there yesterday, and probably won’t be tomorrow. But for now they command their place. This day is their day. They cry out to the world: “ We are it. We are the new creation.” And they speak to me; they speak to my entrepreneurial spirit.
What phenomenal growth. It takes a lot of self-belief to take on history. History says: “Slow; step at a time. Don’t step out of line. Things grow slow.”
Mushroom says: “ I don’t care what you reckon. I am the supreme entrepreneur. The conditions are right for me. I’m going for it. I can grow 200 times faster than everything around me, because of how I operate. I’m not a tree. I don’t need to be around for a hundred years. I’m not bound to the seed-producing cycle, nor tied to the calendar of seasons. I’m a thief in the night. I’m a free marketer. I am the essential realist, because I use every micro-second of my potential and convert it into growth, into profit, into reality. I’m not one of those ‘shove-him-in-a-corner-and-feed-him-bullshit’ mushrooms.”
“ I am the Sydney Opera House of created things. Before Utzon was, I am. I am culture accelerated. I’m a spiritual monument to human greatness. For when my castle has perished, eaten by worms and by wetness, and carried away by orange-beaked birds, the reality of what I have achieved and how achieved it, remains as a memory, a motivation, a fertile ground for other mushrooms who will also build themselves a castle out of self-belief.
If you want to succeed, make big plans. Then act like a mushroom.