To Be a Shaker

If my life story were to be published as a paperback novel, it would unfold as an epic tale of drama, strife, and an endless struggle to survive. It would unfold as a riveting saga filled with triumphs, heartbreaks, and an uncanny ability to trip over my own feet at the most inopportune moments. Even now, as I gaze upon the horizon brimming with possibility and new opportunities, I still don’t quite know what to make of my past. It’s like trying to decipher an abstract painting while wearing sunglasses indoors.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve clung to this grandiose dream that I’m destined to be a voice for my generation. Not just any voice, but one that would resonate through the ages, echoing from the largest of radio stations, perhaps even rattling the heavens a bit. While I may never be a master of the airwaves, I hold onto the hope that my words might one day take flight. I imagine them riding on the wings of invisible pressure waves, reaching the ears of countless millions who are, no doubt, eagerly awaiting my next profound revelation. Or, more likely, they’re tuning in to drown out the deafening silence of their daily commute.

To achieve this dream, I must allow myself to be shaken to the very foundation of my being, never taking a moment’s rest. Comfort is for the complacent, and I’ve made it my mission to fight the degeneration of human hearts, souls, and minds. I aspire to be a healer of all three — a champion for those forgotten souls who need one the most. It’s my calling, as a crafter of sentences, to spark a revolution of the heart.

Let’s be real, though. Like every one of us, I’ve made my fair share of mistakes along the way in my quest for belonging. By fair share, I mean a mountain of blunders tall enough to rival Everest. Still, each mistake has been a stepping stone, albeit a wobbly, precarious one, on my journey to becoming a world shaker. After all, even the most epic tales of survival and triumph are built on a foundation of glorious, ridiculous failures. So, buckle up and prepare for a ride through the chaotic, humorous, and sometimes painfully ironic chapters of the life of an aspirational shaker.

The Dreamer

From the tender age of five, I was convinced that I was destined for greatness. Not just any run-of-the-mill greatness but the kind of greatness that’s chronicled in history books and inspires generations to come. This belief was partly fueled by my insatiable appetite for stories, both real and imagined, and a tendency to daydream in the most inappropriate of places. The latter was certainly true in math class, where I should’ve been learning long division instead of plotting my rise to stardom.

I envisioned myself as a voice for my generation, a modern-day oracle whose words would echo throughout time. I wasn’t entirely sure what that voice would say or how it would be heard, but these were mere details in the grand scheme of my destiny. My parents would smile and nod at my grand proclamations, probably thinking it was just a phase I’d grow out of. Well, I didn’t.

As a teenager, I was certain that my destiny was to become a radio DJ. There was something magical about the idea of my voice floating invisibly through the airwaves, reaching people far and wide. I pictured myself like the next Casey Kasem, albeit with far more awkward teenage angst and wilder hair. I’d practice my radio voice in front of the mirror, holding a hairbrush as my makeshift microphone, and deliver passionate monologues to an imaginary audience.

Reality, however, had other plans. I knew deep down that I had something important to say, even if I hadn’t quite figured out what it was yet. My dreams of radio stardom aborted before they started, as my interests moved into to sports broadcasting. Still, my resolve to make an impact remained unshaken. I decided to pivot my aspirations and focus on writing. After all, words on a page can be just as powerful as words on the airwaves. Plus, there’s the added bonus of being able to edit out the stutters and awkward pauses, of which I suffer many.

So, I poured my heart and soul into crafting sentences, each one a tiny rebellion against mediocrity. I wrote about anything and everything that sparked my interest — social issues, personal anecdotes, and wild imaginings.My writing became my new voice, one that I hoped would reach those who needed to hear it most.

Of course, my journey was far from smooth. I faced rejection letters from publishers who “didn’t quite see the vision,” and criticism from readers who felt my writing was “too unconventional.” Each setback was a blow to my confidence. But, I eventually learned to find humor in the absurdity of it all—like the time a well-meaning editor suggested I write something “more mainstream,” which I interpreted as “less interesting.”

Despite the myriad challenges, I kept writing and dreaming. Because if there’s one thing that my endless daydreams and my disastrous failed submissions taught me, it’s that true greatness isn’t measured by immediate success or universal approval. It’s measured by the willingness to keep pushing forward, to keep believing in the power of your voice, even when it feels like no one else does.

So, the dreamer in me lives on, fueled by a stubborn optimism and a darkly humorous perspective on the trials and tribulations of life. I may never be the master of the airwaves, but I’ve found my place in the world of words. Perhaps, one day, some of these words will take flight on the wings of invisible pressure waves, just as I always dreamed.

The Unshaken Shaker

Being relentlessly driven sounds glamorous in motivational posters and self-help books, but let me tell you, it’s more like living in a perpetual state of controlled chaos. I’ve often felt trapped on a hamster wheel, constantly running but never getting anywhere. Now, add a touch of existential dread and a dash of caffeine-induced jitteriness, and you’ll have a pretty accurate picture of my day-to-day life for the better part of my twenties and thirties.

From the moment I decided that my words would spark a revolution of the heart, I knew there was no turning back. Rest was for the weak, or so I convinced myself. I adopted a philosophy that equated busyness with productivity, ignoring the small detail that burning the candle at both ends usually results in a burnt-out candle. But hey, who needs a candle when you’re trying to set the world on fire with your words, right?

My daily routine reflected my unyielding drive. Mornings started with a rush of ideas, hastily scribbled on scraps of paper or typed into my phone before I even brushed my teeth. Afternoons were a blur of writing, rewriting, and then writing some more, all while guzzling copious amounts of caffeinated beverages and iced tea. Evenings were spent in frantically oscillating between editing and self-doubt, questioning if anything I produced was worth the digital ink i was spilling.

This relentless pursuit wasn’t without its casualties. Sleep was the first to go, replaced by nights spent staring at a blinking cursor and wondering why inspiration only seemed to strike at 3 AM. Social life? Relationships? Well, those were tricky. It turns out, not everyone appreciates being put on hold for the sake of the next great American novel. Oh yeah, that. Still working on that one.

Yet, there was a certain satisfaction in knowing I was giving it my all. Each sentence I crafted felt like a tiny victory, a small step closer to the revolution I envisioned. But, there was also an irony in this unceasing hustle. All the while I was striving to heal human hearts, souls, and minds, I was slowly fraying the edges of my own.

My first real wake-up call came in the form of a mild, albeit incredibly inconvenient, breakdown just before the Covid pandemic. One minute, I was furiously typing away at a particularly poignant piece about the importance of self-care for a client website. The next, I found myself unable to type another word. My mind went blank, my hands trembled, and I felt an overwhelming sense of failure. Here I was, advocating for the very balance and well-being I was utterly neglecting in my pursuit of greatness.

In the aftermath, I took a hard look at my life and realized that being a relentless shaker wasn’t sustainable. I had to find a way to keep my drive without driving myself into the ground. It was time to embrace a new kind of revolution—one that included self-care and sanity as key components.

I started with small changes. I instituted “rest days,” where I’d step away from my laptop and let my mind wander without the pressure of producing something profound. Gradually, I learned that taking care of myself didn’t mean I was any less dedicated to my cause. In fact, it made me more effective.

I finally gave up freelance writing entirely, focusing solely on my own projects. It was a major sacrifice financially at first, but it was worth the risks in the end. Going entirely solo, my writing grew richer, infused with a new depth that came from a place of well-being rather than exhaustion. I discovered that being a shaker didn’t require me to be constantly shaken to my core; it meant finding a balance that allowed me to inspire others without losing myself in the process.

Of course, the journey is ongoing. I still have moments of overzealous ambition, nights when the allure of a perfect sentence keeps me awake, and days when I struggle to find balance. But I’m learning to embrace the irony and humor in it all, recognizing that the very act of striving is part of what makes the pursuit worthwhile.

In the end, being a shaker isn’t about relentless drive or unyielding hustle. More often it’s about shaving yourself free from expectations and your own fears and doubts. You must give yourself wholeheartedly to the passion behind the pursuit. But, you also must come to the  understanding that sometimes the most revolutionary act you can take is knowing when to rest. 

So, I continue my quest, not as an unshaken shaker, but as someone who shakes things up while also knowing when to step back and let the world spin on its own for a while.

Mistakes and Missteps

As I set out on my quest to change the world, or at least write a compelling blog post, I inevitably stumbled upon a myriad of mistakes.  Mistakes  aren’t just inevitable; they’re practically a rite of passage for anyone daring to dream big. Turns out, I have a lifetime membership to that club.

One of my earliest and most spectacular failures was the ill-fated attempt to start a vlog. The logic was sound: if words on a page could inspire, then surely my face and voice, with all their expressive charm, would amplify that effect. What I didn’t account for was my profound lack of technical skills, coupled with a stage presence that could best be described as “awkward squirrel meets malfunctioning robot.”

The first episode was a disaster. Poor background lighting made me look like a ghost, the audio cut out here and there, and I spent the entire time nervously fidgeting and tripping over my words. In retrospect, it might have been hilarious if it weren’t so painfully embarrassing. Even my most supportive friends essentially told me that “We love you, but please, never do that again.” Considering none of those people stuck with me long term, I knew what they really thought.

Then there was the time I decided to write a deeply personal essay about my struggles with anxiety, thinking it would connect with readers and maybe even help someone. Instead, it turned into a cautionary tale of oversharing. The piece was raw and honest, perhaps too much so. The feedback was primarily well-meaning but condescending advice. My inbox was flooded with messages suggesting everything from meditation techniques to essential oils, and I even received a few unsolicited invitations to join wellness cults. It was an eye-opening experience that taught me the fine line between vulnerability and exposure.

Through these and countless other missteps, I learned the art of laughing at myself. Dark humor became my coping mechanism, allowing me to turn humiliations into anecdotes and failures into fodder for future stories. Swallowing defeat is far easier when you can wrap it in a sarcastic bow and present it as a cautionary tale for others.

After all, if you can’t laugh at your own blunders, you’re missing out on a rich source of entertainment. It also helps that these missteps helped me develop a thicker skin. Whether constructive or not, criticism became easier to handle. I learned to sift through the noise and focus on the feedback that truly mattered.

So, while my life is peppered with errors and embarrassments, I wouldn’t trade them for a flawless record. Each misstep has added a layer of depth to my writing that might not have existed otherwise. As I continue to chase my dreams, I’ve come to see mistakes as quirky detours, not dead ends with no outlet. In fact, I’m grateful for every cringe-worthy moment and every awkward encounter. Where would I be without them? It would certainty not be here telling you about them.

Taking Part

Finding where you’re at in the grand quest of life is like trying to find Waldo in a sea of red and white stripes. I’ve found that whenever I feel lost, I try and figure out how I can take part in the world more intentionally.

If you’re feeling stuck, begin by reassessing your goals. Strip away the layers of unrealistic expectations you’ve piled upon myself over the years. Believe me, it’s a humbling exercise, much like peeling an onion and discovering that most of it’s just fluff. Anyway, what remains at the core are my genuine passions. For me, these are writing, connecting with people, and making a positive impact, however small it might be.

With this newfound clarity, set out to engage with the world in ways that are meaningful yet manageable. Start with small, actionable steps. Sometimes this means just stepping out the front door and driving down a road you’ve never taken. All it takes is one new unexpected experience to reignite your love for storytelling.

Despite whatever efforts you make, though, there will still be moments of doubt. You’ll question yourself if you contributions are making any difference. It’s easy to get lost in the vastness of the world and feel like a tiny, insignificant speck. But, every once in awhile I’ll receive a heartfelt message from a reader, reminding me that every that each time I publish, I have a chance to connect with someone and change their life for the better.

Being a shaker isn’t about grand gestures or monumental achievements. You’re seeking a cumulative effect of small, consistent actions. It means showing up, even when it’s uncomfortable, and giving your best, even when it feels like it’s not enough.

Taking part means fully appreciating the messiness of life, highlighting the stumbles moreso than the triumphs. Impacts aren’t always immediate or visible, but you have to trust that like ripples in a pond, the consequences of your actions are spreading outwards in ways you may never fully see. Taking part is a commitment to living fully, authentically, and with purpose.

The Shaker’s Legacy

As I stand at the cusp of another chapter in the unpredictable saga of my life, I find myself overcome with a potent brew of nostalgia and anticipation. If my life were a novel, this would be the part where the protagonist looks back on their adventures, having learned invaluable lessons, and looks forward with a renewed sense of purpose.

The wannabe diva who once envisioned being a voice for my generation, still lives in me, albeit with a more grounded perspective. I now seek quieter breeds of revolution — the subtle shifts in perspective, and the small, consistent efforts that cumulatively create change.

The shaker within me has found balance—not in perpetual motion, but in the rhythm of effort and rest, striving and letting go. True greatness lies in authenticity, in being real and relatable, and in showing up for others as much as for myself.

My legacy, I hope, will be one of words that  inspire and connect. I aim to leave a trail of positive ripples, each one contributing to a larger wave of change. I don’t have to be the loudest voice, but be a voice that matters, that touches hearts and minds in meaningful ways.

Life is a series of imperfect steps, highs and lows. So, to my fellow dreamers, doers, and shakers, continue to act with passion, purpose, and a touch of humor. Every word, every action, and every moment we take part in shapes the legacy we leave behind. As for me, I’m still dreaming, writing, and  shaking things up. I may never stand on the highest pedestal, but I’ll do what I can to leave a lasting impact on the world, one heartfelt word at a time.

~ Amelia Desertsong