My name is Shannara Gillman, and I am a badass. For good.

 

 

And I’m here to tell you a secret. It’s a big one. Are you ready?

 

When I look around this room, all I see is badass potential.

 

That’s it, that’s the secret. Everyone can become a badass for good.  There is so much latent greatness in this room its mind boggling.

 

So how did I go from badass potential to badass reality? By letting it out!

 

Being a badass for good starts with a great idea. And I’ve learned everyone has at least one great idea inside of them.

 

My great idea is Carnival Ninjas. What are Carnival Ninjas?

 

Evolving. Because my path to embracing my inner badass has been one of evolution.

 

My evolution began, as all the best ones do, in a bar. One patron challenged everyone in earshot to come up with the most oxymoronic statement we could think of. You know, military intelligence?

 

Mine? Carnival Ninja. It’s a delightful juxtaposition. Carnivals are loud, over the top, colorful celebrations of life. Ninjas are silent, efficient, dark harbingers of death.

 

When I woke up the next morning, NOT hungover I am happy to report, Carnival Ninjas was an itch I couldn’t scratch. I had something. I just didn’t know what.

 

It would have been easy to ignore the itch. But something was telling me not to. Something was telling me this itch could be what you are on this planet to do.

 

I lived with my itch for days. Carried it around with me. Wrote about it. Doodled it. Talked about it. Dreamed about it.

 

What I came to was this: Carnival Ninjas are stealthy purveyors of art and love who leave a swath of beauty and wonder in their wake.

 

AND I WAS GOING TO BE ONE.

 

It was the holidays. The Fiend, my now nearly 10 year old daughter, and I spent hours making a stack of cards. They carried highly decorated messages of love. They told people how awesome they are. They reminded people how beautiful they are. They affirmed for people that yes, the world IS a better place with you in it.

 

We went to the Maine Mall parking lot. On a Saturday.  In December. We crept from car to car slipping cards under windshield wipers. I hummed the Mission Impossible theme song. The Fiend told me to cut it out.

 

Then we went back to our car and waited.

 

We spotted our first victim. She trudged, laden with heavy bags of holiday cheer, toward her car. She saw the card, rolled her eyes and snatched it from the windshield. She read it. Looked up. Looked left. Looked right. Read it again. And smiled. A really big smile.

 

EPIC. WIN.

 

The best part? It happened again. And again. Grumpy, tired consumers transformed into blushing, happy humans before our very eyes. Over and over.

 

I went home, and started leaving carnival ninja love notes everywhere. The coffeeshop, the YMCA, the grocery store, Walmart. Sometimes the notes were on origami cranes. Sometimes they were on post its.  Sometimes they got taped to a wall. Sometimes they got slipped into a bag. I stopped waiting to see the reaction. I had more love and happiness to spread around. And I only had so much time.

 

This is where the “and they all lived happily ever after” SHOULD go.

 

But evolution doesn’t work that way.

 

When I discovered my greatness and unleashed it on the world, I felt fantastic. Unstoppable. Invincible.

 

For a little while.

 

And then a big, bad, unwelcome guest made a house call. Fear.

 

Fear showed up on my doorstop in its Sunday best with a bouquet of questions.

 

What if they don’t like it?

What if this is a terrible idea?

What if it doesn’t work?

What if they don’t get it?

What if they don’t notice?

WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?

 

I had NO answers. So I got scared.

When I get scared, I build obstacle courses.

I can’t get started until I have a mission statement/vision statement/statement of purpose/justification for existence.

I can’t get started until I have a logo.

I can’t get started without a website.

After the holidays.

This summer.

This fall.

Definitely this winter.

Maybe in the spring.

WHEN IT’S PERFECT.

 

I took all of the questions and excuses and trained myself to become a world class mental contortionist working against my own best interests. I was the Cirque du Soliel of self-defeatism. I waged war on myself. And I won.

 

SO I LOST.

 

Lost time. Lost momentum. Lost confidence.

 

GAVE UP.

 

But my great idea wasn’t done with me. It fought back on my behalf. It kicked my ass into high gear. It made me stare down Fear. It made me answer my own questions.

What if they don’t like it?

So what? It won’t be for everyone. That’s ok.

What if this is a terrible idea?

What if it’s a great idea? Only one way to find out…

What if it doesn’t work?

The world will keep turning. No one will die. But if it DOES work, well…

What if they don’t get it?

Say it a different way. If that doesn’t work, try again. If that doesn’t work, keep

going.

What if they don’t notice?

Are you doing this for someone else’s benefit?

WHO THE HELL DO I THINK I AM?

I am a HOT SHIT BADASS ROCKSTAR FOR GOOD

 

After that I kicked over the obstacles, stomped out the excuses and got going.

 

Greatness didn’t let me off the hook. That’s the thing about greatness. It needs lots of fresh air and sunshine to thrive. When I put it in a box and hid it away, it got angry. It wasn’t until I let it out that we both felt better.

 

I talked to my friend Andrew. I said, “Andy, I’m resurrecting Carnival Ninjas. What do you think?” He said, “It’s about damn time. I never understood why you stopped.

 

Lael called me later that same day. “Shannara,” she said, “I’m hosting a SheSpeaks in May. The theme is Rebel Yell. I feel like you have something to say.”

 

I said, “Do I ever.”

 

When I kicked over the obstacles and stomped out the excuses, an amazing thing happened. It all fell into place. I decided and suddenly the path was clear.

 

I know the path won’t always be so clear. But now I know that it can be.

 

So what did I learn?

 

I learned to accept my gift. I learned how to be brave enough to share it with the world.

 

I learned Fear will show up with a bouquet of questions and that’s ok.

I GOT THIS.

 

I learned I will create my own obstacle courses. I owned it.

AND THEN I LET IT GO.

 

I learned to stop waiting until it’s perfect. Stop waiting to be ready. Stop waiting for permission. Stop waiting for an invitation.

 

I learned perfection is a myth

 

I learned I am ready.

 

I learned I do not need permission.

 

I learned I am the only invitation I need.

 

I LEARNED TO GET GOING.