what a headless chicken festival taught me about "going first."
Moral of the story? You never know who is watching you.
Mike The Headless Chicken Festival is a long-standing tradition in Western Colorado ever since Mike, a chicken, lived for 18 months with his head cut off in 1945.
Lloyd and Clara Olsen were farmers in Fruita, Colorado who sold eggs and chickens to make their living. Most chickens will live for a few minutes after they are beheaded, flopping around until their death, but Lloyd noticed that a day after beheading a batch of chickens, one was still alive. Lloyd figured out how to keep him alive and Mike, the legend, was born.
The festival usually spans a weekend in June and includes music, vendors, a beer garden, a car show, chicken dances, a wing eating contest (a little too morbid for me), and a 5K. We went last Friday to soak in a bit of the community and fun. We happened to be there right as a local band, Wave 11, was taking the stage.
^not nearly as cool as a real headless chicken, but they had a mascot out there.
As they played R&B and funk covers, we stood over to the side of the crowd, vibing, sipping lemonade, and enjoying the beautiful day (plus watching all the toddlers dance, which is my favorite thing to do). The lead singer jumped all around the stage and was genuinely just the best hype man—getting people clapping in sync, shouting “Ayo-oo,” and calling out his band-mates.
At one point, this older woman in hippie loose pants, shirt, and hat (not a bash at her—Fruita residents pride themselves on their hippie-ness) stood up and started grooving. You could tell she was lost in her own world, just happy to be in the sun, listening to music, and grateful to be alive. A smile plastered her face as her hips shook. She looked free.
I turned to my partner A. and commented that I couldn’t wait to be that age—the age that I always hear older women talk about where you just don’t give a shit what people are thinking about you anymore.
A., in his non-people-pleasing and non-fear-of-people’s-opinions way, told me that it’s silly to wish that… just start now.
If only.
As the woman continued grooving, other people got up and started dancing with her. Older men, younger women, kids, parents. A small group started forming in the front of the stage and the lead singer was so hyped that he jumped down and started dancing with them.
A. turned to me and said:
“See? You think that people are going to perceive you as weird or judge you and make fun of you for doing the things you want to do, but really, you’re inspiring them and motivating them to do it, too.”
And I shit you not, I almost started crying because for some reason that reframe just hit so deep to the bone. I have always wanted to be that person who let her inner sun shine out of her, the person who did what she wanted, the person who “went first” to prove to others that they could, too. But I just haven’t been able to step into that, to claim it for myself.
If you’ve been around in my world (mostly on Instagram) for a while, you might remember when I started coaching with Beachbody and tried to get into network marketing. I did what they recommended—showed up on my stories, shared honestly about my workouts, nutrition, how I was taking care of myself, etc. I tried to build a community and chat with new friends and strangers. But it felt so awkward in my body. I felt like an imposter, I felt like everyone who watched my content was just thinking, “What the fuck is Courtney doing?”
While I deeply wanted to connect with more people over something I love—fitness, eating right, connecting to your body—I just felt… silly. It took me out of my comfort zone and at the end of the day I gave up after about three months because I just didn’t feel like it was “worth it” and I didn’t think I was making an impact.
Fast forward about three years and I was getting a drink with an old friend from my middle school/high school years. We sat and caught up on the last ten years since graduating high school, sharing highs and lows. As we were about to part, he said something that I would replay in my head for weeks afterwards—something that came back to my mind as I stood almost crying from A.’s comment.
“This is really random, but do you remember when you used to talk on Instagram a lot? I was in some dark times back then and listening to your inspiring messages and hearing you talk about your struggles and what was going on in your life really helped me get through it. I felt like I had a friend there with me when I couldn’t really talk to anyone. You probably had no idea, but I wanted to let you know. You should get back to that. You have a way of saying what people need to hear.”
My jaw basically hit the floor because all of those years ago I thought that I was talking into the void, that people thought I was weird or silly. And here was this person sharing that what I was saying did have an impact. And I’ve always believed that if I can help just one person, then I’ve been successful.
The moral of the story is that you NEVER know who is watching you, who is following along on your journey, or who you are inspiring. I absolutely guarantee that you have people supporting you that you don’t even know about. Your name is showing up on someone daily gratitude list. Because humans impact humans. It’s as simple as that.
So all of this happened on Friday, and then, what do you know, the universe sent me ANOTHER sign.
On Tuesday, I’m on a training call after work. I haven’t really talked about this yet, but I’m in a certification program to become a SoulFlow™ Master Practitioner through the somatic experiencing goddess herself, Andee Love. I entered it wanting to learn the practice of somatic psychotherapy and dance therapy more intimately and also maybe to teach one day.
Anyway, we’re on this training and she’s about to wrap up. Andee, who has a million and one things going on in her life, is letting us know our activity for the next two weeks is to write up a brief paragraph. In the same breath that she is telling us this, she says my name, immediately making me think, “Oh, God, what did I do?” and starting to panic (even though it’s a safe place and I’ve obviously not done anything).
And what does she say? She goes,
"I had no idea that you wrote! I read all your stuff and I love your writing! I would have never known you were a writer… can you guys believe she just got her Masters?! You just really never know what is going on in people’s worlds. I love following along!”
I couldn’t stop smiling. I would have never guessed that she was taking the time to read my work let alone reading it so closely to be able to say positive things about it. She is a twin-mom, a multi-seven-figure business owner, mentor, researcher, and somatic experiencing coach. She probably has very little extra time in her day. And she was using some of that time to read what I had to say?
It’s incredible. Reassurance that what you’re doing is resonating with people isn’t necessary, but it sure helps. And it’s the constant reminder of the fact that you truly have no idea who you’re reaching.
what a gift.
Show up and I promise you that it means something. Go first.
At the end of the day, Mike was the first chicken to live without his head for 18 months. The other chickens probably thought he was a freak… OR, maybe they were in awe of him. Same with the woman dancing at the festival.
note to self:
It’s about time we start thinking about the reframe—maybe others will be in awe of us. Not everyone is thinking that we’re freaks. And if they are…
…at least you’re out there living (headless or not).
Sending love and light,
courtney.