Seeding/Receding
I have been very busy these past few weeks, seeding. Seeding is an entrepreneurial business terms that means spreading an idea around. Seeding happens after all of the behind the scenes work is in place, but before the actual event or program takes place. Seeding is how you get people interested in your idea.
And so for the past month I’ve been getting everything in place for a new Mac training course. I gave a free tips webinar and shared some great content, I invited folks to register for a full six week class to learn even more ways to work smarter. I’ve been posting on Facebook, sending reminder emails to my peeps and talking with the Universe about serving my clients.
And so far, only six people have signed up for the course.
Seeding in business, like planting real seeds, does not a guarantee that anything will grow. Yes, you can tend the seeds, water them, protect them from the wind and the birds, but you cannot force the seeds to sprout.
And so, when only six people sign up for the course, my knee jerk reaction is to plant MORE seeds, to re-seed. To over water, poke around in the soil, thinking I’m helping but really, I’m disturbing the quiet growth.
But what would better serve me and the seeds, is to recede. To be patient. To wait. To trust. To step back and stop fussing so much, to move out of their sunlight and let nature do its thing.
Maybe more people will register. Maybe not. Either way, it is no fault of the seeds. Or me. It is just how things turned out this time.
All I can do teach those six wonderful people with the best course I can imagine. And continue to tend the seeds I’ve planted, and see what else might bloom.
What happens when you plant something and it doesn’t immediately bloom? Please share by clicking on the comments below.
[ssba]Back to Basics
I’ve been home for just a couple of days and I’m still adjusting to being here. It’s like coming back from any vacation: I need to re-ground, re-group and remember what’s important and why I’m here.
A part of me thinks I should rush back into things and focus on work. But my wiser self says to move slowly, to pay attention to my breath, to reconnect with the rhythm of the tides. And to notice the things around me and and the feelings within me.
The landscape has changed in the month that I was gone. The rolling hills are now covered in golf course green and the bright yellows and oranges and lavenders of wildflowers gather across the hills like giant throw rugs. Low tide seems lower and the sun comes up further from the east, causing less glare during my morning writing. The whole coast is blooming with color and life and once again, I can’t believe that this is my home.
Inside, I feel a bit of loneliness. Not surprising since I got pretty used to the comforts of sharing space with Marika and Mabel, and the opportunities to be social with friends and clients.
Coming home, I am reminded that this is important to me and that meeting people needs to be a daily practice, even if it’s just having a short conversation with a fellow beach walker or the cashier at Spencer’s.
If life is a spiral then this coming home is the same, yet different than all of the other times. And so I settle in, quietly, slowly, returning to the basics: breathing, being, and saying thank you.
[ssba]Saying No to the Bucket List
Being a camp host has been on my Bucket List for as many years as I’ve been RV camping. The idea of staying in the same campground for a three month stint, greeting campers, talking with people from all over the world, putting in 20 hours a week in exchange for free rent and full hookups was a dream for me. And the bonus of driving around the campground in a golf cart took the dream over the edge.
And so, in January I thought hey, this would be a perfect time in my life to apply for a host position for the summer. I perused the listings on the California State Parks website and narrowed my choices to two parks, one just 20 miles north of Cayucos at San Simeon State Beach, and the other, three hours south at McGrath State Beach in Ventura where I’ve camped many times.
I met a Park Ranger when I was volunteering at the Morro Bay Bird Festival and asked if she would put in a good word for me with the selection committee at San Simeon. She told me to send her my application and she’d forward it to the person in charge. Meanwhile, I drove up to the campground to scope out the area.
Dogs weren’t allowed on any of the trails. And it would be a 40 mile round trip into Morro Bay if I wanted to continue with my yoga classes, go to a big supermarket, do laundry. And because the campground is under a canopy of trees, cell phone reception was non-existent.
When the ranger contacted me about my application I asked about the reception and wifi and he said camp hosts get free wifi, but still, there was no phone reception. So I said no thank you and focused my attention on the park in Ventura.
A ranger from Ventura called and told me that the person who does the hiring would be on vacation until March, but they had my application. So I put a prayer up and let it go. Two weeks later I got a call. If I could start in April, I could be one of the three hosts at McGrath. But April was too soon. I have some commitments in Morro Bay in April and May and it’s for the months of July and August that I need to leave the RV Park in Cayucos to make room for folks who have previous reservations..
She suggested a second option-being the camp host at the day use beach, San Beunaventura State Beach, also in Ventura. My job would be to work either the morning or afternoon shift in the kiosk, collecting parking fees and answering questions. The park closes at dusk, so I’d have my evenings free.
I asked about security and safety and other hosts nearby. It all sounded great. Until I realized that much of my life would be on hold. I’d have to arrange my Mac training and writing around my shifting work hours. I wouldn’t be socializing with campers. I’d merely be an information person in a booth for five hours a day.
As much as the dream of camp hosting lures me, now just isn’t the right time for it. Because what I really want right now is to continue creating my life in Cayucos, to build on the friendships I’m forming, to practice yoga with my new community, to lead more workshops and connect with more peeps. What I really want is to settle in.
And so I wrote to the Ventura ranger and said no thank you. And I made a reservation for July and August at the same RV Park that I stayed in when I first came to Morro Bay last August. Yes, it’s more expensive than free rent, but I will be in town where I can continue to put down roots, make connections and do my work without having to plan my life around someone else’s schedule.
The decision feels right. And of course, I laugh at myself for all of the planning and effort I put into making the hosting position work out. But that’s how I seem to do things-I research, act, push and get so close to making a choice, and then I breathe and let go, realizing the universe has a better plan for me.
I’m sure that someday I will be a camp host, and the location will be ideal and the job will involve my people person skills and I’ll even get to drive that golf cart around the campground. But for now, I’m staying on the Central Coast, creating the life I love to live.
What dreams are on your Bucket List that you’ve put on hold? Please share with me and my readers by clicking on the Comments below.
Sharing Our Imperfection
I am teaching an online Mac Training class and, in addition to the live group classes, we have a private Facebook page where students can ask questions, share successes and post photos of their progress.
After the first module about organizing files and folders, each student was asked to post a before and after photo of their Desktop on the Facebook page. One student wanted to be sure the photos wouldn’t post on her personal page for all of her friends to see, because she didn’t want them to see the before photo.
It made me realize how, so often, we only want to show people our successes. And yet, when we reveal our struggles, our imperfections, our own vulnerability, people are able to connect, be vulnerable themselves, and see the possibility of growth.
A very talented artist friend is taking her first oil painting class. She posts her works in progress on her Facebook page, even though she struggles with the curve of a neck or getting the eyes just right. By sharing her imperfect work, we are able to connect with her on a more vulnerable level than if she only posted her finished masterpieces.
If we only saw the cleaned off desktops, we might think we’re a failure because ours is so messy. But, by seeing the before and after, we’re offered a path, a light of hope, a feeling of, well, she did it, maybe I can too.
By sharing where we’ve been, what we’ve come from, what struggles we are moving through, we become a model, a mentor, a cheerleader for those who are ready to follow their own path.
How can you show up imperfectly and be OK with it?
Thoughts? Comments? Please share by clicking on the comments below.
[ssba]Shifting Perspectives
I’m spending the month of March in Phoenix. The impetus for the trip was to take care of a few clients that I didn’t get to finish with when I was in town in November. I was originally only going to stay for two weeks, but then I thought, hey, I’ll stay for my birthday, and then I can work with more clients.
A few days before I was scheduled to leave Cayucos, I was regretting the whole thing. I was dreading the traffic of the big city and all of the driving I had committed to, visiting clients all over town. The weather reports showed the temperatures slowly rising and I remembered that one year on my birthday it was over 100°. I was getting cranky about the two day drive to Phoenix, and the jam-packed work schedule I had created and I was starting to resent the whole trip.
The night before my departure, Laddy and I took our evening walk to the beach and I could feel tears welling up, thinking how much I was going to miss my life.
And then I remembered that life is where you are, not where you’re going, not where you’ve been, but right here in the present moment.
And it suddenly occurred to me that I am so incredibly blessed to have the opportunity to go to Phoenix for a month and have clients who want to work with me. That I am so graciously welcomed at Marika’s house where she will cook delicious, homey meals and I even have my own room. And Laddy and Mabel get to have a month of dog companionship and I will get together with my friends and my Dad and enjoy some favorite eateries and even try new ones.
I am so grateful that I have the flexibility and the means and the support to do this and, at the end of the month, I’m able to go back to living at the beach where my spot is waiting for me at the RV Park.
This shift in perspective actually had me looking forward to my time in Phoenix. Suddenly, the traffic and the two day drive and the full working days became a gift instead of a burden. I was even excited to try a new back roads driving route to avoid all of the LA freeway traffic and stress.
By the time I had my car packed and Laddy and I were on the road, we were excited about the month of adventures ahead of us. And I didn’t even cry when we turned inland and the ocean disappeared from view.
[ssba]A Part of the Landscape
Laddy and I haven’t walked on the beach in three days. When the tide is high, most of the hard-packed, easy-walking sand is under the rolling surf and so, instead, we walk along the street just above the beach, where million dollar homes with million dollar views line one side of the road and a sloping hill with utility poles lines the other.
I call this the hawk walk or pole stroll, because we usually spot a hawk sitting on top of one of the poles. Sometimes we meet other dogs and their walkers, some mornings we wave to people on their way to work. Laddy has lots of grass and gopher holes to smell and I can see the ocean rolling below us all the way out to the horizon.
Today, two hours before high tide, Laddy and I returned for a morning beach walk. Even though I’ve seen the ocean every day, standing inches from the surf with a 180° view of water and waves opened me up as if for the first time.
My lungs felt expansive. My legs were strong walking on the sand. And I was smiling easy and wide. I tossed a thin stick for Laddy to retrieve as I watched the waves rise and curl into themselves, changing from algae green to cobalt blue, then rushing toward the shore like galloping white-maned horses. They rolled closer and softer, wave over water, until they flattened into bubbling lines of sea foam converging on the sand. And I stood there, joyful, grateful, completely a part of the landscape.
And I realized that this is how I feel everywhere here, not just when I stand on the beach.
In the past three months, things have shifted. I no longer feel like a tourist, just passing through. I live here. This is home. I have favorite restaurants and secret walking places. I am a regular at my yoga studio.
Laddy and I have been walking at different times of the day and meeting more neighbors. I’m getting together with these new friends for lunches and thrift store explorings. And I no longer force myself to go to events that I think I should attend even though I don’t enjoy them.
And the most surprising part is that I’m no longer feeling desperate to date, or worried that I’ll always be alone. I am genuinely content with my own company.
And I love being with Laddy on the beach. As I stood there noticing the subtle rhythms of the waves inside and around me, he nudged me with his nose and we started to walk toward the pier. The waves were steady and calm, rolling over and around the big dark rocks that were now nearly submerged by the tide. A seagull stood on one of the bigger rocks and another hovered in the air above him.
Laddy had sand on his snout from pouncing on his stick. I brushed it off, bending over him in a modified down dog so that I could hug him around his belly. The morning sun highlighted the the rusty reds and browns of his coat as I combed my hands through.
We walked a little further then I stopped again to pause and take in the view. Laddy chewed on another stick as I stood there watching and listening to the roll of the tide, slowly rising.
When I’m in Phoenix next month, I hope I find ways to be still and present and connected to nature. I hope I am able to appreciate all that is there, even though I live here.
How do you connect with the peace of the present moment? Please share with me and my readers by clicking on the Comments below.
[ssba]Exploring Your Passionate Heart
You’d think that, as heart-centered as I am, I’d love the idea of Valentine’s Day. But actually, it’s never been a favorite for me. Maybe because it’s so Hallmark-y. Maybe because, if you’re not in the throes of a passionate, romantic relationship, you feel somehow less than, like you’re missing out.
Maybe it goes back to when I was in fifth grade and someone left a dead goldfish in my desk next to all of the other Valentine’s cards.
On the surface, Valentine’s Day is all about hearts and flowers, chocolates and stuffed animals. But if we look deeper, the real heart of Valentine’s Day is about love.
And so this year, I’m proclaiming this as a day to honor the love in our hearts, not just the loves in our lives.
When we look inward, into our own hearts, love becomes an opportunity for self-awareness, self-care, self-inquiry.
When we look into our hearts, we are inviting personal reflection. We begin to ask deeper questions, like, what is really important to us? What are we passionate about? What sparks our heart?
Oprah Winfrey says this about passion:
“Passion. I love to say the word out loud just to hear the sound of it.
It resonates with me, causing me to think of all the experiences that fuel me, give me my juice: my work, speaking in front of 50 people or 5,000 and seeing someone have an aha moment, my great friendships, my dogs, the trees in my front yard, my wondrous, amazing unfolding life.”
When I first read Oprah’s quote I cried. Because I had no idea what I was passionate about. I was so out of touch with my heart that I didn’t even know what passion meant, or even felt like.
And so I started asking myself deeper questions.
1. What does the word passion mean to me?
2. How does passion feel?
3. Do I know people who I consider to be passionate?
4. What about them makes me think this?
5. What qualities define passion?
6. If I think about passion in terms of what fuels me and what gives me my juice, what else is passion for me?
Often, when we ask ourselves big questions, we answer with our heads. So it’s no wonder that we get the same answers, Or, “I don’t know.”
But if we get quiet, and go deeper, we can hear the truer answers from in heart.
I invite you to take some time and get quiet and really ask yourself these questions about your own heart’s passion. Write down your answers, and pay attention to any new questions that arise.
And if at first, you only hear silence, listen deeply to that. Trust that your heart is there, waiting to sing.
I’d love to hear your answers. Please share them below by clicking on the comments.
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[ssba]Seeing What Is Unseen
A thick layer of fog fills the folds in the hills behind me, like blankets rolled up to keep out the draft. Morro Rock is gone from my view, though I know it is standing somewhere behind the stretch of gray that rises higher than the Los Osos hills. Across the creek, the fog settles over the buildings on Ocean Avenue like the puffy white clouds you see out of an airplane window and I can barely make out the shops and the cars parked on the street.
Sounds are louder, while, at the same time, everything seems more still.
I remember a time in my life when I felt like my whole world was engulfed in this kind of thick unseeing fog. It was unsettling, disorienting, anxiety producing.
Because I was trying to move through it.
I was desperately wanting to not to be in the uncomfortableness that I was feeling, the sense of being lost, the place of not knowing.
But the more I tried to push through, the harder it was to see.
Until I stopped trying and was able to be with the discomfort, sit with the feeling of not knowing, relax my whole being into the gray that was all around me.
We’ve all experienced a time in our lives when we have felt lost. Undirected. Uncomfortable not knowing what’s next. Our tendency is to run, make a plan, rush toward something, anything that is more comfortable than sitting still.
But often, staying, sitting, being with the not knowing is the only way to discover what’s next.
These days I love the fog because it is a visual call to be still. The fog reminds me that this is not a time to navigate a new path, but to look inside, to see the things that are unseen.
One of my favorite children’s books, which I didn’t read until I was an adult, is Madeleine L’Engle’s A Wrinkle In Time. It is a story of time travel and good versus evil and it is filled with wisdom and life lessons. One of the themes is to look for the unseen, like music, joy, and love.
These same wise words come from Antoine de Saint Exupéry’s The Little Prince, when he tells his friend, “”One sees clearly only with the heart. What is essential is invisible to the eye.”
When we are in this hazy, foggy space of not seeing our paths clearly, we tend to panic. We think we are lost because we cannot see our way through.
But if we allow ourselves to relax into the stillness, it becomes a gift, a quieting where we can hear our heart beat, where we can turn our attention to the things unseen.
By sitting still, looking and listening inward, we may realize we aren’t lost at all. In this quiet haze of seeing the unseen, we are, in fact, just coming home.
I’d love to hear how you see the unseen, how you find ways to be with the fog. Please share by clicking on the Comments below.
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[ssba]We Always Get to Choose
Even the simplest life can offer up obstacles. Things break. Propane leaks. It is always our choice HOW we deal with these challenges.
Marika and Mabel came for a ten day visit this month and one of the first things Marika said when she stepped into the RV was that she smelled propane. I was surprised since I’d only gotten a whiff every once in a while and chalked it up to my imagination.
But she immediately took action. She made me get my nose up close to the stove burner where, indeed, I smelled it very strong. We turned off the propane at the tank and scheduled a repair. We called a mobile repair company so that we wouldn’t have to drive into Morro Bay and wait around. The convenience was worth the $95.00 trip charge.
The company came, did a check around the stove but found no leak. They recommended we remove the solenoid, a device between the propane tank and the system that shuts down all propane flow if there’s a leak, since it didn’t function. But they assured me that the alarm part of the system was still working.
We also got a new regulator for the tank since they recommended that it needs to be replaced every 8-10 years. They left, all was fine. And the next morning the smell of propane was even stronger.
They returned and again, checked around the stove and yes, she did find a leak. But she said that, because our RV is so old, there are no replacement parts so we opted to have them cap off the affected burner. There was no smell, no bubbling of soapy water around the capped valve so we were good to go.
Until the next morning and again, the smell of propane permeated the air, this time not at the capped burner but in the drawer underneath the stove.
Instead of calling them a third time we made an appointment at the repair place in town.
We dropped the RV off and headed into town, awaiting their phone call. After three hours of testing every fitting and appliance in the RV, they discovered a small leak around the stove that was fixed with a little tightening of a fitting. They changed out the cap to a more substantial piece of hardware and informed us that we no longer had a working alarm, which was against the law, so we had them install one.
As we drove over to pick up the RV I could feel myself getting upset, angry, pissed off and cranky about the whole business. I was already composing a nasty letter in my head to the first company about their incompetence and the inconvenience of everything.
But by the time I was driving the RV back home, I was so grateful that no one had gotten sick from the leaking propane and that there hadn’t been an explosion. And there really was no inconvenience.
We were able to leave the RV to get repaired while Marika and I took the dogs for a lovely day of outings. We enjoyed a delicious breakfast outdoors with a view of Morro Rock, then took the dogs for a great walk out to the rock where they had the best time sniffing all kinds of new smells.
I was able to relax in the back of the car with the dogs while Marika studied the soaring peregrines with her spotting scope. And then we drove to some nearby ponds where Marika caught glimpses of widgeons and shovelers and the dogs got to check out even more smells.
It was a lovely day. We were able to be out in nature while someone fixed our problem. There is no more propane leak, and we have a working propane alarm. With so many things to be great-full for that there is just no room for cranky!
What would you choose? How do find the gratitude in challenging situations? Please share by clicking on the Comments below.
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[ssba]Our Real Work
So often we hear people asking, What is my real purpose? What is my true work? Sometimes our most important work has nothing to do with a paycheck.
Back in November, a client scheduled a four week Mac training series to begin in early January. She emailed me the day before our first session, saying that she was just so overwhelmed and felt terrible, but could we postpone until the following week.
I could feel her anxiety and stress and so I wrote back:
Breathe…
And honor the fact that you are recognizing that adding one more thing to your life right now isn’t going to work.
Breathe again.
Let’s cancel tomorrow and hold off on next week too.
I’m about to roll out a group training program that will address all of your needs.
And breathe again.
She wrote back that she was crying in gratitude, because I knew she just needed to breathe.
Interactions like this remind me how much I love my work, especially when it has nothing to do with making money!
Because often, the best thing that we can offer our friends, our colleagues, our clients, is to hear them, to honor what they truly need, not what we want to offer them.
Last week she wrote again, sharing that our interaction “has already paid itself forward many times since. Your kindness helped me handle a client of mine in the same understanding way because I remembered how wonderful it felt to not be judged or feel shame for letting someone down.”
Listening, supporting, holding space for others, that is sometimes our real work in this world.
I’d love to hear about your real work. Please share you stories with me and my readers on the blog at www.sparktheheart.com
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