I Will Show Up For You in My Excellence and Stop Testing You to See If You’ll Love Me in My Compromise.
Agreement 6 was born from a story—one of those stories that, once you hear it, you can’t quite stop seeing yourself in it.
It’s called the Legend of Johnny Lingo. Mahana was an island girl raised by a very mean father named Moki, who had spent years convincing her she was ugly and worthless. And so she believed him. She doubted that anyone could truly love her—or that she deserved it if they did.
Johnny Lingo had loved Mahana secretly for years. He’d grown up near her village, left as a young man, and built a reputation as one of the most successful traders in all the islands. But through it all, he never stopped thinking about Mahana, and he never stopped planning to come back for her.
His plan, when he returned, was audacious. He would offer Moki eight cows for his daughter’s hand in marriage. In that culture, one or two cows was the going rate. Eight cows was an almost unheard-of declaration—a statement to the whole island about how much he valued her.
But when the moment arrived—the negotiation, the 8 cows, the whole beautiful thing unfolding in her honor—where was Mahana?
She was hiding in a tree.
Still afraid. Still unwilling to risk being ultimately rejected. Still letting Moki’s voice be louder than Johnny’s love.
There is a part of each of us that is Mahana. It’s that quiet, unconscious voice that says: “If you’ll love me as I am right now—in my compromise, in my hiding, in my ‘not quite showing up’—then I’ll know for sure that I’m truly lovable. Prove it first. Then I’ll come down from the tree.
In effect, Mahana was saying to Johnny Lingo: “Come and find me. Affirm me. Accept me as I am up here, in my compromise, before I will show up as my real and wonderful self. Bring your eight cows first. Then—and only then—will I come down.”
It sounds reasonable when you put it that way. Almost noble. But here’s what the Mahana test actually costs you: your life.
Because while you’re up in that tree waiting to be fully accepted before you fully show up, the world is missing you. The people you love most are getting a fraction of you. And the version of yourself you’re most proud of—the you that is capable, beautiful, committed, alive—is sitting in a tree watching it all go by.
It would be easy to look at Mahana and think she's just being stubborn. Or lazy. Or self-defeating in some obvious, correctable way. But Mahana's tree didn't build itself overnight, and she didn't climb it without reason. There are three things that keep her up there — and if you're honest, you'll recognize at least one of them in yourself.
The Rebellion. As children, most of us learned — in ways large and small — that love was conditional. You got it when you were cute, or talented, or well-behaved, or thin, or successful. And somewhere along the way, a part of you got sick of it. Sick of performing. Sick of doing tricks. Sick of feeling like your worth was always on trial and the jury was still out. So you rebelled. I will not show up as my best self just to prove I deserve love. If you want the real me, come and find me. Love me as I am. Right here. In this tree. It sounds like dignity. It feels like a stand. But it's just you hiding up in the tree.
The Fear. Here's what Mahana is really afraid of: showing up fully, completely, at 100% — and still being rejected. Because if she sends a shadow of herself and gets turned down, that's survivable. There's still something she held back. There's still a version of her that was never really on the line. But if she brings everything — her beauty, her excellence, her full and wonderful self — and it still isn't enough? That's a different kind of pain. That's the one she's been avoiding her whole life.