Martin is the center of everything. He is sitting cross-legged on the floor of his dressing room, eyes closed, his hands form a bowl in front of his chest. He breathes in deeply, holds his breath for five seconds and then slowly exhales. He repeats this exercise four times. He always does this before going on stage; empty his mind and manifest success. He envisions himself on top of a mountain, looking down at the masses. He is a God at the center of his own thoughts. Not today, though. His thoughts wander away from the visualization and he sees the tears in his daughter’s eyes again.
‘Go to your stupid seminar then!’ she yelled. ‘See if I care.’
Tonight is the performance of her junior high musical, and he had promised to attend. However, when his manager managed to book him a spot at Motivational & Inspirational Seminar Sydney, he accepted eagerly, completely forgetting Susan’s musical. The MISS is a huge deal. Hundreds of entrepreneurs flock to these events. Sure he only has a red-eye time slot at the third stage, but still. He gets to rub shoulders with the likes of Nick Vujicic and Daniel Bull in the lounge, being served from the same open bar. This might finally land him his spot in the big league. It’s an undeniable career opportunity. He could not let it slip by. Suse might not understand now, but she would, later.
He shakes his head clear and folds his hands around an invisible ball. He breathes in again and lowers his shoulders. This is his moment. He exhales remorse and unrest and visualizes cool blue air to fill him with spiritual rest. He is a log in the water, floating on a river of calm.
‘Asshole!’ she yelled. ‘I will never believe anything you say again, ever. You are a big fat loser!’
She slammed the door behind her. It stung, but he couldn’t allow his emotions to get in the way. That would only prove her right. He had to show her that he was not a loser.
Cool blue air. Mountain. God at the center of his thoughts. Log in the goddamn river. Breathe, Martin. Breathe. He relaxes his shoulders again.
‘Two minutes,’ the stage director interrupts him. She hands him a glass of water and adjusts the wire of his microphone.
‘It’s go time.’
He jumps up and down on his toes, shaking his arms loose. He claps his hands, takes another deep breath and walks onto the stage. The audience applauds. He raises his arms and walks a circle. The applause dies away before he is all the way round. He lowers his arms and looks into the half-empty hall.
‘If you want to be a winner in the game of life,’ he yells, ‘dare to be an asshole!’