Click Moments

Jordana Green on knowing what you want

The other day I had a ‘moment’. It was an instance of clarity, the kind you wish your life were full of, because it affirmed what I was doing at that moment was the exact thing I should have been doing. It only lasted a minute, but it was fantastic—more on that moment later.

If you really listen, and pay attention to the stories and lessons of your life you can find them. I’ve learned these are called ‘Click’ moments.

Sometimes they smack you upside the head, others times you really have to listen. I’m no expert (on ANYTHING), but I can identify many click moments in my life that have shaped it and brought me here to this moment. I went on this listening quest after a guest on my show, Frans Johnassen, discussed his book Click Moments and how to identify them in business. But even better, the lessons translate into real life.

He said most click moments begin as physical reactions to a situation. I’m often a danger to myself because I let my gut lead my brain, but as I looked back on the strongest reactions I’ve had in certain situations, they have been integral in my decision-making. Yes, freaky.

You start thinking about yours while I tell you mine.

The first click moment I can remember was when I was 15, when I spent the summer in Israel. I visited an uncle who lived there. He spoke very little English, and my Hebrew was weak at best. He managed to ask me, “What do you see on TV? What do Americans think of Israel?” When I asked why, he answered, “Because I want them to know what it’s really like; that Israel is beautiful and we are safe and happy and it’s not the fighting they may see on TV.” He went on, “You have to tell them. “

Click. I did have to tell them. I knew at that moment I wanted to be a reporter and tell stories.

Next moment. I did become a reporter and told stories, but they weren’t the kind of stories I wanted to tell. I was a young TV reporter in New Jersey, telling of brutality, pedophilia, deadly fires, murder, and rape everyday. Yuck.

One assignment had me in the projects of Newark. Some shooting I can barely remember now. The resident kids ran out when they saw my camera and asked if they could be on TV. As I got shots and plotted which doors to knock on for interviews, I muttered under my breath “Sure, you can be on TV—when I cover your arraignment.”

Click. I was an awful, evil, heartless, witch who obviously hates kids and would probably have kicked a puppy at that moment, and who also just realized she could no longer cover hard news. I became a medical reporter the next year.

Another moment. This click was in my gut and painful, the most powerful one I’ve ever had. I knew something was wrong. I knew. I called my husband and told him he had to come home from the gym—it was time for the truth. I asked him for the hundredth time if he was having an affair…this time, finally, he said yes. I gave him an hour, told him to go for a walk (alone) and think. When he came home I said, “Her or us.” He said, “I can’t decide.” I said, “You just did.”

Click. Life as I knew it, planned it, and wanted it changed.

My most recent click (the one I mentioned above) was a few days ago. I was in the kitchen with my fiancée. We were cleaning the dinner dishes when he stopped me and we kissed. That was it. That was all I ever wanted—to make out with the man I love in our kitchen. So simple, but so perfect. It was pure happiness, contentment, and awareness that this was right. 

Click moments are not always easy, but if you listen well, they can be your guides. Johanssen says you can’t create click moments. You can’t force them, they arrive when they are ready, and maybe when we are, too. All we have to do is listen.