Fluffy Chickens and Your “Holy Moly” Legacy

Last week, I met a chicken with frills.

And I really mean feathers.

But seriously, this amazing little chicken (living happily in a little coop in a neighbourhood garden), was frilly all over. From the top of her fluffy head to the wide, frivolous flounces around her ankles.

(It was a bit like meeting Louis XIV in brocade and curly wig, striding down the halls of Versailles…except in clucking chicken form.)

Anyway, when I saw the chicken, I said “holy moly.”

And yes, “holy moly” sounds a little dumb. (I’m old, so I tend to use a lot of squeaky-clean, anachronistic expressions, adopted from my very sweet, earnest parents and 12+ years of Catholic school: holy moly, for the love of Pete, for Heaven’s sake, holy cow.)

Honestly, that cute little chicken is really living. Frills first.

And like that frilly, clucking chicken…I believe we all need to live a little larger sometimes.

What’s your “Holy Moly” Legacy?

“Holy Moly” Legacy is what I think about with our emails.

But despite the frilly title, your “Holy Moly” Legacy doesn’t have to be about fame, or fortune.

Maybe your “Holy Moly” Legacy is being able to waddle gracefully through life, with your frills proudly unleashed.

And instead of being caught up with chicken scratch worries, you’re thinking of something a little more profound.

Like your creative voice.

Your weirdly wonderful genius.

And your wildly unmistakable brand of truth.

Sure, maybe we’re all just chickens, nibbling on millet and clucking gently at the neighbours.

But wouldn’t it be wonderful to be as frilly, feathery and fantastic as we wanted to?

When we write our emails, this is something to aspire to. Instead of frantically chasing relevance, we could quietly find reverence. (In a low-key, very non-Louis XIV kind-of way.)

So…

When someone reads your work and says:

“Wait. Who wrote this? I need more of it. Immediately.”

Maybe that’s your “Holy Moly” moment.

Cluck cluck.