The other day I came across a video that had me laughing so hard I nearly spilled my coffee. Take a look:

Then his owner sets him on a tiny toy skateboard.

And suddenly this little guy is zooming across the room, blowing past the family cat like he just discovered his inner NASCAR driver.

I have watched it more times than I am willing to put in writing. Aside from being ridiculously cute, it hit me: this might be the best picture of possibility thinking I have ever seen. Because most of us are living like that turtle before the skateboard showed up. Crawling along the way we always have, telling ourselves, “Well, this is just how it’s done.”

And then somebody hands us a new tool, a new idea, a new way of thinking.

Game. Changer.

The truth about crawling

Crawling feels safe. It’s predictable. We know exactly how long everything takes, because it has always taken exactly that long.

But predictable can quietly turn into stuck, and we may not notice the moment it happens. I know this because I spent years calling it discipline when, if I’m honest, it was crawling with good posture.

Here’s what I love about the turtle. He didn’t change his legs. He didn’t grow wings. He didn’t go out and become a cheetah. He changed his vehicle. Same turtle, same stubby little legs, and now he’s outrunning the cat.

That is what possibility thinking actually is. Not pretending to be something we’re not. Just being willing to ask whether there might be a better way to carry what we already are.

Where high-powered women get stuck

Let’s get real. In real estate, and in life, we get so used to doing things our way that we stop asking whether there is a better way. We’re not lazy. We’re loyal. Loyal to the first thing that ever worked.

• We’ve always worked the long weeks, so we keep working them, assuming exhaustion is simply the price of the top-producer badge.
• We prospect the one way we were taught the year we got our license. Door knocking, cold calls, open houses. It worked then. We never went back to check whether it still works now.
• We handle every detail ourselves, because nobody can “do it as well as we can.” Nobody has been given the chance, either, but let’s not get into that.

But what if the reason we feel capped, exhausted, or stuck isn’t us at all? What if it’s our mode of transportation?

Try this instead

Here’s where the skateboard moment comes in. It is rarely about reinventing ourselves. It is about upgrading the vehicle we’re riding. Three small places to begin:

1. Stuck in the hustle trap? Block white space on the calendar. Sacred, non-negotiable time for strategy, dreaming, or simply breathing. Crazy thought: the deals will still close if we take an hour to reset. I have tested this personally. The phone survives.
2. Relying on the old playbook? Try one new lead-gen vehicle that fits who we actually are. A short video from the car after a showing. Real conversations on LinkedIn instead of a connection request and silence. A referral partnership with the lender or stager we already love. Nobody has to cold call her way into the grave.
3. Doing it all ourselves? Hand off the handful of tasks that drain us most. Pay someone to handle the paperwork while we focus on relationships, which is the thing that actually makes us money anyway.

Each of these is a skateboard moment. They might feel weird at first. They might even feel like cheating. But what if “cheating” is just what we call a smarter vehicle before we’ve gotten used to it?

The power of a mentor

Here’s the kicker: turtles don’t usually stumble onto skateboards by themselves.

Sometimes we need someone outside our current box to hand us the tool that changes everything. A mentor. A coach. A friend who slides the coffee across the table and says, “Hey, what if you tried it this way instead?”

I have been on both sides of that table, and I can tell you the view from the turtle’s side is a lot more fun once the wheels are on.

The Power breathing you is greater than any circumstance, situation, or condition. I believe that. And I believe your dream deserves more than crawling speed.

So the question is: are we going to keep inching along in the same patterns, or are we ready to strap on some wheels and see what we’re really capable of?

If something in this piece has you looking sideways at your own calendar, I’d love to talk. I offer a free discovery session where we sit on the same side of the table and look at where you are, what you actually want, and what a skateboard might look like for you. No pressure. No pitch. No need to have it figured out before we talk. That would rather defeat the purpose, wouldn’t it?

Click here if you’re ready to swap inch-by-inch progress for breakthrough momentum.

Because honestly? The cat is waiting. And I’d love nothing more than to watch you zoom right past it.

With love,

Rosemary Gibson