September Shifts and Starts

As I’ve shared before, I love September. It’s my favourite month: the bright hot days of summer begin to shift into cooler days with crisp mornings and long-shadowed nippy evenings.

There’s a sense of settling in: of both slowing down and gearing up for what’s to come. A new school year always brings new energy. Gathering school supplies — blank and fresh, with so much promise. Restarting extracurricular activities. Mapping out the final months of the calendar year. Creating structure for the coming weeks.

It’s the season of sweaters and warm mugs. The season of enjoying the harvest: butternut squash soup, roasted root vegetables, hearty comfort food shared around the table or fire. Lengthening nights. Falling leaves. The colours: gold, orange, red.

I love all of it. I know some of you lament the ending of summer, and are grasping to hang onto it and cram as many more beach days in as possible, but I welcome the shift into autumn this month.

But Uh Oh… Here Comes the Overwhelm

I know for some of us, our upcoming autumn to-do lists can create a sense of overwhelm, especially if we are returning to workplaces, to schools, to public spaces with other humans.

Here’s a little reminder:

We get to choose what we do. We get to choose what we say yes and no to. And, yes, of course there are certain things that we must do. And there are the things we choose to do because we truly want to. And then there are the things we can choose to let go of, to release, to quit, in order to preserve our peace, our energy and our joy…especially during these continuously trying times. Right now, we need less to worry about, not more.

So, what can you set down, remove from your to-do list or your calendar of commitments for the upcoming months?

How can you honour your needs and wants instead of filling your days with commitments that serve others? Because guess what? They will be just fine.

Permission granted to support yourself right now.

A dear client recently shared an episode of Glennon Doyle’s We Can Do Hard Things podcast, focused on quitting. One piece of wisdom from it is the original definition of “quit” which is to be set free; to be free and clear; to be calm and resting…not the current negative connotation we have of the word, whereby we equate quitting with losing. The original definition, and this conversation, gives us permission to quit what doesn’t light us up, and to rest as part of the process, and lots of other good stuff too, so have a listen if you have time.

Summer Reflections & Inspiration

For the first time maybe ever, I blocked off entire swaths of time — full weeks! — over the summer for downtime. I realize it is a luxury and privilege to have the ability to take time away from work, as so many others struggle to make ends meet in our communities, and with what’s happening here and around the world. And, I know that rest is essential to our ability to show up in our lives, for us to have energy and capacity to serve, to raise our children, to solve the problems our world faces. So while I rested, while I stepped out of “doing” mode and spent time in “being” mode, I was especially grateful for my circumstances and ability to do that.

I revelled in the Olympic athletes’ performances and stances of personal sovereignty.

I spent time with family, including a brand new family member, that we hadn’t seen in person since before the pandemic.

I read books. So. Many. Books.

I walked on beaches and waded in the ocean.

And I watched our province dry out and burn, and the earth quake and winds blow and rain fall and buildings tumble in already too-challenged places, and terrorism rise to create unimaginable circumstances, again, for people and especially women and girls in Afghanistan.

My heart has been both filled to overflowing, and torn to shreds, sometimes in the same day.

So what’s been inspiring me during these hard times?

My friend and fellow deathworker Kate shared a lovely piece of writing by adrienne maree brown, which speaks to the interconnectedness of everything as an antidote to our fractured society right now (from an American point of view, but applicable to other places, too). I found it a helpful frame to view those with different attitudes, beliefs and choices than my own; a balm for heavy-heartedness.

And, in a recent email from Jennifer Louden, she asks: Why bother to create when the world is burning? She responds, partially, as follows:

…I wonder if we give up on writing & creating when the world is crashing around us less because we think it doesn’t matter and more because it does? And we are afraid to care deeply about anything because it forces us to face that this is it? This is our life now, on this contentious burning planet.

And while what we do to help matters greatly, we can’t do it all. In fact, we can do very little, even if we were Queen of the World, which, alas, we are not. To create is to embrace our finitude which strangely, can motivate us better than thinking we should be able to do it all and then despairing when we can’t.

Or maybe we are afraid to create during times like these because it feels wrong to be fulfilled? To be happy? Yet nobody in Afghanistan or Tennessee or Algeria cares if you’re unhappy. It does nothing to relieve their suffering.

Personally, creating reminds me life is worth fighting for. Creating is good medicine against my despair and depression. Creating helps me wrap my arms around the finitude of my tiny life…

Her words give me hope.

Now is the time for us to rise and meet the challenges of our time, in whatever way we each can, with whatever gifts and skills and insights we each hold.

We’re in an era of dismantling, of tearing down before the new and better way can be built. It’s hard, uncomfortable, confronting work.

Rest if you must, but don’t give up altogether. The world, the planet, all of us need your goodness, your light, your brilliance to help tip the scales toward the future we want and deserve. We are, and it is all connected.

What’s Coming Up

Opportunities for personal learning and transformation through group programs

If you’re looking for a map and motivation to help you positively impact your future, your community’s future, and the world, you may be interested in Activating the Spiral. This is the final time this 8-week course will be held in a live virtual format, from September 14-November 2. My colleagues Abigail and Sarah will be co-leading this time. If you’re looking for a supportive and edgy spirit-led and nature-based personal growth program, this is for you. (Note: I don’t make any financial gain by sharing this; I simply believe in the work and want you to benefit from it if the timing feels right.) Learn more from this overview, or reach out to me to see if it’s a fit. I’d love to welcome you to the Spiral Community!

Positively Chronic is open for registration and runs September 21-October 26. Once again, I’m keeping the group small and intimate (6 people). Through this program, you’ll learn tools, skills and practices to manage the mental and emotional load that accompanies a chronic condition, so you can enjoy life.

Mortal Motivation is also open for registration and runs October 6-27. In this program you’ll get (a little) more comfortable with the idea of your mortality so that you can live well now…before it’s too late! Whether this is the first time you’re dipping your toe in the death conversation, or you’re ready to dive right into the pool to splash around in it, you’ll come away with less fear and anxiety and more ownership and intention for your one precious life.

In Development

New: The Positively Chronic Self-Coaching Deck!

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I’m working on production details right now, and don’t yet have a delivery date when this helpful card deck will be in my hot little hands, but I wanted to let you know it’s coming.

This deck offers bite-sized prompts, perspectives and practices to support you on those challenging days (ahem, all of them) of living with a chronic condition. Sometimes, all you need is a little inspiration or encouragement to shift the trajectory of your day.

I’ll be announcing pre-sale details in the coming weeks, once I’ve secured production and delivery costs, but in the meantime, if you think you’d fancy a deck, let me know (the more decks I print at once, the better the price for all of us)! 

Aaaannnnd….I’m writing a tiny book!

As I may have mentioned before, I’m participating in The Tiny Book course this fall (starting today!), so within the 45-day program, I’ll have authored, designed and (hopefully) produced my first tiny book…if all goes as planned! Luckily, my friend and colleague Katie is also participating, so we’re planning to keep each other inspired and accountable. I can’t wait to see how it turns out to share it with you.

That’s all for now, dear readers. I hope your summer was as you had hoped, that you are rested and ready for the imminent shift in season, and if you’re not, that you’ll schedule some rest time for yourself. Be safe, be healthy, take care of each other and keep finding the joy in life.

Jilly

Tending our Gardens

Trigger Warning: Reference to Indian Residential Schools, abuse, murder, genocide

As we move from May to June, many of our gardens have been sowed and now it’s time to tend the seedlings, sprouts and shoots as they push up and blossom, and eventually bear fruit for our harvest. Spring shifting into summer is typically a time of flourishing, and yet, heavy on my mind and heart the past few days is the discovery of 215 children’s bodies, some as young as three years old, at the Kamloops Indian Residential School. 

If you’re not aware, between the 1830s and 1996, the major Christian churches and the Canadian government, and before that the British Crown, mandated the removal of 150,000 indigenous children from their families and homes and placement in 139 boarding schools across the country, often in remote areas, in a government-enforced genocide to remove indigenous culture, language and practices from these children in an effort to “civilize” them. This was part of a larger goal of erasing and assimilating indigenous people and thereby erasing the responsibility of the government to deliver on Treaties, and instead gain access to land and resources traditionally held and managed by indigenous populations. 

Seven generations of indigenous children experienced physical, emotional and sexual abuse, starvation, humiliation, disconnection from family, language, traditions and culture. It’s unknown exactly how many children died at these schools or while trying to return to their families, but estimates are in the range of 6000. Most deaths were undocumented by the schools, churches or government.

***If you’re a survivor and need emotional support, contact the 24-hr National Indian Residential School Crisis Line by calling 1-866-925-4419.

 The lasting effects of this horrible public policy are systemic institutional racism throughout Canada, and intergenerational trauma in indigenous populations, with limited supports or funding to process the intense pain, grief, loss, abuse and ripple effects of this trauma. 

The last residential school in Canada closed in 1996. I was in my third year of university that year. 

That’s how recent this is. 

It’s not ancient history. It’s prolonged, systemic killing, on all levels, of the first peoples (Inuit, Metis and First Nations) who were and are seen as less than settler and colonizer communities. Its impacts are real, raw and recent, and this new discovery re-opens wounds that have barely begun to heal.

It’s easy to get caught up in the feelings of outrage, sorrow and empathy for those mothers and fathers whose children were ripped away and never came home, or who came home changed, harmed and deeply scarred. I think it’s important to feel these feelings -- these big and difficult emotions -- so that we can see our indigenous neighbours, brothers and sisters as human, fully human...not a lower version of human. We need to imagine ourselves in their shoes and consider how we may have responded, coped, survived if this had been done to our families.  

I talked about it with my daughter this morning, briefly. We imagined if every kid in her school went to school one day and didn’t come home. How would the parents feel? How would they make sense of it? How would they carry on as active members of society with that kind of grief, anger and pain? How would the kids feel? How would they make sense of what they were being told, what was being done to them, and why they couldn’t speak to their families or go home? It’s difficult to fathom, and yet, it happened, to people we know. It was an uncomfortable, difficult conversation, but one we are willing to have.

We can wear orange today and other days; we can put teddy bears on our doorsteps tonight in honour of those children’s lives; we can hug our own kids tighter and give thanks for our privileged lot in life. These symbolic gestures bring us together and create comfort. 

And it’s not enough. 

We can consider the future of this country as our collective garden, and all people as the shoots and seedlings and sprouts that need different levels of tending to flourish, and reach a bountiful harvest. Those 215 children, and the 150,000 others who attended residential schools, certainly did not receive the tending they needed or deserved. Their families didn’t receive the tending they needed or deserved, let alone the respect and compassion any human deserves.

I’m offering what I’ve found that we can do beyond feeling the feels, beyond lamenting the past. I certainly don’t have all the answers, but I feel obligated to share what I can in this moment. 

Educate and re-educate ourselves, our kids and our friends about the full history of our country

Support indigenous and especially survivor-supporting agencies who are doing the work to heal these communities

  • Donate to the residential school survivors in BC: https://www.irsss.ca/donate

  • Donate to your local indigenous support agencies. Reach out and ask how you can be of service. 

Demand better from our governments

They are here to represent and support all our residents. Let’s hold them to account. Contact your local, provincial and federal representatives and ask what they are doing to enact reconciliation and ensure social, economic and cultural equity for our indigenous communities. Pressure them to hold all parties accountable for their actions, and fund the solutions required into the future. 

 My hopes for what comes next

I hope that the bodies of these 215 children are returned to their families in a respectful way so that appropriate ceremony may take place. 

I hope that all residential school sites will be searched, all murdered children identified and returned to their families.

I hope that anyone still alive who played a role in this genocide is named, tried and serves time for these crimes.  

I hope school curriculums across the country teach a fulsome history of this nation, pre- and post-Confederation. 

I hope indigenous communities find deep and lasting healing.

I hope that, in the absence of anything better, Treaty rights are upheld to the highest intention possible, and that indigenous communities without Treaties continue to assert their rights, and have them met. 

I hope that settler communities acknowledge their role in this country’s origins and past, and work to re-learn history to understand a more accurate representation, not just a white privileged settler viewpoint. 

My big dreams for the future are that we find a way to integrate the best of indigenous governance with the best of parliamentary democratic governance to create a new, better way for all to live together in this shared land. I hope that we reconsider and redesign land ownership and taxation systems and practices to create a community-stewardship model where everyone has access to appropriate housing and  food, livelihood, and to the natural resources of this land. My hope is that we listen to each other with respect and work together to create a better experience for all. 

Again, I don’t know have all the answers, or how we get there, but I’m sharing a partially-formed vision for something better in the hope that it ignites positive change. 

I guess this turned out to be less of a newsletter and more of a call to awareness and action. I’d love to know what you’re doing in this regard, or what resources or initiatives you’ve found helpful or supportive. 

Let’s continue the conversation and tend this garden together so that we can all grow, blossom and harvest nourishment for ourselves and our communities.

Impromptu Mini-Retreat

I’ve been going hard for quite a few months, pushing and producing and extroverting, and felt depleted. I spent a few days wandering aimlessly around the house between client calls and staring glassy-eyed at HGTV because I didn’t have the energy or inspiration to DO much of anything else. I felt like I was wasting precious time when I could have been doing something useful: either creating, or intentionally resting. I was doing neither; I was in that in-between swirly-headspace of not quite resting, and not quite not working, and certainly not playing. Blahhhhh. 

Enough! I knew I needed to regroup and call in inspiration, creativity and direction. I needed a plan. Last week, I had a workday without any client calls, meetings or other appointments or errands, so while I was eating breakfast, I decided to give myself an impromptu mini-retreat. A kind of quick-and-dirty strategic planning day to re-energize myself and stop feeling both guilty (for not being effective in my work or relaxation time) and like I was failing at work and relaxing (spinning my wheels and not quite getting anywhere). 

So, what did I do? 

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First step: keep it simple! I grabbed a sticky note and did a heart/body/brain-dump to make a list of what needed attention. What is taking up processing space in my brain? What tasks are waving at me from my desk to be completed? What is my body telling me it needs? What wants to be present in my life but isn’t? What values are being neglected? Which are being over-honoured? How do I want to feel? 

I came up with a list of five things I could accomplish (maybe) in the next four to five hours or so before the child got home from school. Some of the items were quick and easy (like making a list), while others were more spacious and contemplative (like visioning). 

Next: I committed to work through the list in whatever order spoke to me in the moment through the rest of the day, and let all my other responsibilities and distractions wait in the wings. 

I started with organizing my physical space. I’m someone who finds it challenging to work if there’s a mess around. My desk had become a dumping ground for various files, folders, books, a bazillion sticky notes (go figure!) and was cluttered and distracting. I spent 15 minutes filing, tidying and clearing a path on my desktop. Instant improvement in how I felt approaching my work! Energy injection number one!

Next, I organized the work I do on my business during my weekly “CEO time” -- like program, tool and curriculum development; networking; blog topics and content development; etc. -- into a single list, so I can tackle it in priority order during my next CEO calendar block on Monday morning. That helped me take those tasks out of my brain and create space for more creativity to flow. I felt my shoulders drop and my mind clear. I no longer had to flip through my to do list in my brain; I knew I could find it on Monday when it was time to dedicate effort to it. Energy injection number two!

Then I addressed the next item on my mini-retreat list: Plan May long weekend. When I did my full-body/heart/mind-dump, I noticed that there was nothing to look forward to, and not much fun or variety in my life. Languishing, anyone? We haven’t had a change in scenery since last summer, when things were pretty okay here on Vancouver Island, and before the second wave hit. We’ve had a few vacation spots booked during that time, but cancelled them when case numbers rose and tighter restrictions came into effect. Like so many others, we are itching to be somewhere other than home. I quickly added another item to the list (Create FUN list!), and then got to work finding us a sweet little ocean-front cottage to rent for the May long weekend -- within our health region and following local COVID protocols. 

Here’s what I noticed: It was super fun to click through the options and imagine our family in each space, until I found the one that felt “just right.” I felt a huge sense of excitement -- both emotionally and physically -- and my solar plexus was actually tingling with delight! Energy injection number three!

Next, I started jotting down ideas for my fun list -- a (you guessed it) sticky note with a list of easy, accessible activities that are purely fun, that I’d been missing. I kept adding to it throughout the day, as ideas came to me. So far, I’ve got things like hiking in big trees, walks with girlfriends, watching movies, reading outside, and daydreaming, as some of them. Energy injection number four!

Up next: my body. I’ve wanted to start (again) doing some strength training to help with, well...everything. I looked through the next few weeks of my calendar and blocked out 30-minute workouts, including strength training three times a week, yoga five+ times a week, and a daily cumulative walking goal of between four to five kilometres. Then I created a handy tracking chart and transferred my walking distances from the beginning of the month to it in order to have some wins visible (motivation!). 

One of my pitfalls with new movement habits is to bite off more than I can chew, so I made a smaller commitment to these activities for the next two weeks (that’s it!). I get to celebrate what I’ve done when I get to May 19, assess what’s working and what isn’t, and create a new commitment for the next few weeks. One of my other pitfalls when it comes to movement is to create an amazing plan and then NOT take action. Huh, go figure. So, feeling super-motivated in my mini-retreat mode, I did my first strength training workout right then and there. Energy injection number five!

With the final chunk of my day left, I had another juicy item on my list: visioning. For this, I held the question: What’s emerging, in four buckets: my business; personal growth and development; writing and creativity; and health. I viewed this question through the lens of my top values -- which are currently being honoured, and which are not. For inspiration, I pulled a few cards from my Faery Forest deck (fun!) and got some messages around pausing, being still, resting and observing, as well as being wary of potential negative or draining contractual obligations. Hmmm. Interesting. 

My third card was one of my favourites: Cunningwoman. She’s the first card of the deck and speaks of being silent, watchful, shrewd; to allow others to reveal themselves through their actions; to keep secrets, wisdom and knowledge until the time is right. I like her mystery, and am curious what she’s offering me right now. 

A deck I love!

A deck I love!

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Then I spent some time connecting to my future self and harvesting the images, sensations and ideas that came from deep and free visioning. What those will become is still a work in progress (here I am channeling the Cunningwoman!). It felt juicy and nourishing to shift out of doing mode and into dreaming mode -- the place that doesn’t care about the “how,” only the “what” and the “why.” Energy injection number six!

To close out the day, I checked in with my heart/body/brain again, and here’s how I felt after:  Refreshed. Uplifted. Inspired. Motivated. A sense of urgency and excitement. Relieved. Relaxed. Focused. Clear. Energized.  

Sound like something you might want? 

Well, you’re in luck! I offer a half-day-ish Tune In Tune Up Deep Dive Session where we can do the same for you...catered to your needs, of course!

Reach out if this sounds like something you’re craving, and let’s design the perfect mini-retreat for you!

Craving Variety

I’ve been feeling antsy the last few weeks, off and on. The spring air brings an energy of newness, of fresh beginnings and excitement for what’s ahead...except: still pandemic times. 

The repetition of each day, without much differentness to break up the monotony, and nothing concrete on the horizon -- no vacations, no gatherings and no out-of-the-ordinary events -- has started to wear on me. 

Like so many folks, my days mostly look identical: 

Wake up. 

Get ready. 

Get child ready and to school. 

Walk dog. 

Work. 

Lunch. 

Walk dog. 

Work. 

Get child from school. 

Parent. 

Dinner. 

Walk dog again. 

Relax. 

Sleep. 

Repeat. 

Ad nauseam. 

Weekends punctuate the sameness with hikes with friends and grocery runs, maybe a socially-distanced backyard fire pit, then it’s back to the same old same old. 

Normally, routine and same-ness don’t bother me. I like simple habits and simple pleasures, and when needed, I can create a lot of variety in my imagination (hello, Pisces over here). I know a lot of folks have been struggling with this cabin fever waaaay longer than I have, and I feel for you. 

It’s one thing to do the same things every day, but I’m also noticing I’m feeling the lack of variety physically, like I can’t sit still for the sameness. 

I'm distracted by my body wanting something different. To respond to this call, I’ve taken my laptop outside and worked in our backyard or on our patio, and it helps...until the weather shifts, or the weed whackers come out. 

As I sit at my desk inside, I find my eyes scanning the space -- what would normally be a formal dining and living room combo -- and craving something new and exciting. A project of some kind to tap into that spring energy, to change something in my environment.

A few days ago, in a burst of either inspiration or consumer-driven foolishness, I quickly searched online for furniture for our living room, and pushed the purchase button.

Some context: We moved into our place nearly three years ago, and brought the furniture from our former home in Saskatchewan into it and made it work, without purchasing much new (basically, just new mattresses and a bed frame, desks for our workspaces, and a TV stand). We had something to sit on and sleep on and eat on, so… good enough! 

Our “formal” living room has been mostly furniture-free since then...unless we pull the patio chairs inside during the winter! It’s been a dance floor, yoga studio, puppy wrestling ring, and sunbeam nap spot. When we had a tenant living with us for a few months, she brought along a sofa and end tables, and it suddenly felt like someone fancy lived here. Since she moved out, it’s returned to its rather neglected empty space, waiting for the right time (and modest cash flow) to be furnished. 

A few months ago, we got hot lead on a second-hand mustard-coloured sofa from our former tenant (thanks, Grace!), and nabbed it. There’s a simple white IKEA bookcase in the corner, and my spouse’s sweet electric piano from his childhood that our kid now plays, but that’s it. 

So now I’m eagerly awaiting the arrival or two chairs and thick rug -- like waiting for eggs to hatch and new chicks to liven up the nest. I’m hoping the injection of colour (purple! teal! fuschia!) will fulfill my antsy newness-seeking urge.

And -- bonus I just realized -- once we can welcome people into our homes again, we’ll have a grown-up place to gather and rest our bums. Just need to find a second-hand coffee table...

I’m curious:

How have you created variety and broken up the monotony during the pandemic?

Have you found creative ways to create “newness” in your space, your routine or your work?  

What are you craving right now?

Oh, and yes: I’ll for sure share pictures once everything arrives!

Lie on the Floor

Yesterday, I hit a wall.

Around 3 p.m., I was just…done. My mental capacity was depleted. My physical energy levels were suuuuper-low. I wanted to tap out for the day.

I still had lots of things that needed doing — promoting my upcoming program, developing a proposal for a new client, recording guided visualizations for a course, figuring out dinner and preparing it, helping the kiddo with homework, getting outside for a walk — but I chose to lie down on the floor in our front room and close my eyes.

The puppy came over and plopped down beside me and chewed her bone. I could feel her warm body against my leg, along with the hard floor under the rug. The overcast sunlight strained against my eyelids, and I settled. I let my mind slow down…stopped the to-do list…and almost drifted off.

I managed to get to that liminal space of thoughts floating in and out, my mind hopping from one topic to another: my work…the article I’d read about a company shutting down internal conversations about social unrest…how my back felt against the floor and how tight my right shoulder felt…what the rest of the week held in terms of responsibilities…a line I’d read in an autobiography before bed the night before…how the sounds outside vibrated through the walls and along the floor…the sound of Suzanne gnawing…

I had to stop myself from checking to see what time it was, and force myself to just be in that moment, for a long moment. I can’t remember the last time I’ve done that. It felt luxurious.

I opened my eyes and noticed a little black spider crawling across the ceiling. Just a little guy, not a big scary one that freaked me out. This one seemed friendly. I watched it crawl confidently in one direction, then stop, shift and head another way. I wondered how it chose where to go on that expansive ceiling. What was it looking for? Where was it trying to get to? How did it choose to turn, or stop or keep going? How did the world look from up there?

I closed my eyes again and drifted back to random thoughts and not-thoughts, an internal and external space of allowing. Allowing my body to rest, to be supported by the hickory floor and wool rug. Allowing my mind to float and wander, without a task at hand or problem to unravel. Allowing my Self to be for many long moments of daydreaming, listening, resting, allowing.

I’ve been pushing, producing, growing, expanding, striving for the first few months of the year, and now, mid-way through Month 4, I’m tired. It feels sudden, and somewhat unexpected.

Don’t get me wrong — I’ve loved the work I’ve been doing and the people I’ve been fortunate to work with, and I’m excited about what’s coming — my group program, Positively Chronic starts in a couple weeks, and I’ve got writing projects underway, and gorgeous, deep, lovely clients, and other ways of creating impact that truly inspire me. All good stuff. AND, I need to ensure I have rest, replenishment, built into my days.

I do rest — in the last three years, I’ve found a much better balance in my life than ever before — AND, yesterday, I felt the pull to infuse higher quality rest, not just collapse-at-the-end-of-the-day-in-front-of-the-TV rest. I’ve become lazy with my rest. I’ve lowered my standard to the point that it doesn’t serve me, replenish me, or frankly, inspire me.

So that’s what I’m shifting toward now: nourishing rest that helps me show up as fully as I can so I feel energized in what I do and who I be. For me that looks like walks in old forests, gentle yoga, and reading insightful and inspiring works. It looks like deep and unhurried conversations with good friends. And because I know myself well, my challenge will be ingraining these as non-negotiables, ahead of work and other to-do’s, rather than once-in-awhiles.

I opened my eyes again and scanned the ceiling for the little spider. I’d lost track of it. It was gone. My guess is it scurried down a wall or into a dark corner or the potted plant on top of the bookshelf. I hope it found what it was looking for. I feel like I did.

How do you rest? Can you add more high quality rest to your life?

Celebrating Success

As I settle into this year and begin the third month (my birthday month!), I find myself in an unfamiliar place: a place of abundance. The kind of abundance that comes in the form of money, also known as financial success.

(As I mentioned in my last newsletter, I’m enrolled in Sacred Power: Money Love offered by my friend and colleague Tricia Bolender. Through it, I’m exploring my relationship with money, wealth, abundance and value from an above-the-line feminine and masculine and spiritual perspective…and I’m choosing to celebrate the money wins when I have them as a key part of redefining and nurturing my relationship with money.)

Now, I know I exist in a state of abundance and financial security: I have a safe and solid home, a stable family and supportive relationships, access to healthcare and other supports when I need them, a solid credit history and the privilege that comes with moving through the western world with light skin.

And, three years ago, I quit a $100k+ job, with benefits and a pension, and a whole lotta social capital amassed within a 2500-person organization, to move to an island and become self-employed.

I went from six figures to literally three figures in one year. Oomph.

That was a lot to get my head around, especially as someone who’s fervently feminist and independent and has a lot of non-negotiable (expensive) medical expenses.

I’ve been making my own money since I was a teenager and have always been a good saver. I’m a minimalist consumer and a pro at delayed gratification: I save up to buy the thing (if I buy the thing at all) and typically don’t carry debt, other than our mortgage.

My identity and sense of worth were shaken open when I suddenly had no income and had to rely on my spouse for, well…everything that cost anything.

Money can be a funny thing that we infuse with emotion and meaning beyond what it actually is: a tool. For me, money is tied to freedom and independence and choice and security. Without my own money, those things get smaller or less accessible, and life starts to feel scary and un-fun.

It’s easy to be in a scarcity mindset when culturally, at least in dominant North American culture, the message is more, bigger, shinier, fancier. I’ve rebelled against that for most of my life, and am not motivated by keeping up with the Joneses. I am motivated by being safe and comfortable and prepared, though. And, as a heart-centred, values-driven business owner, making big bucks isn’t my main goal. (Making a difference is!) AND, the reality is, it takes money to live, so my business needs to make money.

Learning to live on shared money, or someone else’s money, rather than my money, was a huge internal shift. During our past couple years on “island time,” my first priority has been parenting — part of the motivation for our move was for me to spend less time at employment outside our home and more time with our child — and secondly, building my coaching and facilitation business. Luckily for me, we designed our move to Vancouver Island so that we could live on one income (my spouse’s), if needed…at least for awhile.

I adjusted my spending big time and took intentional time to make choices about luxuries like new underwear, eating out, and getting my hair cut…things I had taken for granted in my “six figure” life because there would always be another paycheque in two weeks, right? It became a personal challenge to see how little I could spend in a month, and for the past two-and-a-half years I scrimped, invested discerningly in my business and tracked (almost) every penny.

Last year, little by little, income began to come in.

Huzzah! Whenever I received payment from a client, it was cause for quiet celebration, and I began to notice a feeling of pride: I created that money through my service and hard work showing up as who I am as a coach. People trust me to support them AND are willing to give me money in exchange; they find value in working with me. Neat.

In 2020, I could cover my business and (some) medical expenses, but not much else...I was still unable to contribute equally to our mortgage payments, car expenses, utilities, groceries, etc. without racking it up on my credit card. Being unable to be an equal financial partner in our marriage was, is, very uncomfortable territory for me, and carrying consumer debt, even for a month or two, makes me antsy. I don’t like to owe anyone.

The experience has given me lots of new things to be with and suuuure pushes me out of my comfort zone. I’ve had the opportunity for good learning through it all, and am especially feeling gratitude for having an employed spouse who could, can, carry the financial responsibility of our household, and the stress that comes with that. I know a lot of folks aren’t in the same situation and I reflect often on the immense challenges single parents or single and/or underemployed or underpaid people have in supporting themselves and their households. I know I am lucky.

Then suddenly, things kinda clicked this year.

In the first two months of 2021, I have earned nearly half of what I earned in all of 2020, and tripled my typical client load. This feels huge to me.

I’ve been in scarcity mindset for so long (truthfully, even when I had a steady reliable income) that it’s taken me by surprise to receive adequate income (enough to cover my expenses and contribute to our household) for the past two months. One day in February, seven clients paid their invoices on the same day — the money just kept showing up. I was giggling and giddy with glee and disbelief. It was surreal.

There’s a commonly tossed around statistic that says it takes two years for a business to become profitable. Maybe that’s what happening here? I have no idea if this income will continue flowing through the rest of this year and beyond. Maybe it’s an anomaly; maybe it’s the beginning of an upward trend; maybe I’ll be searching for a J.O.B. next month. But, I’m learning to celebrate the money while it’s here, and celebrate the success I’m experiencing while I’m experiencing it.

There’s a voice in my head that says, “Don’t talk about this! It’s not going to last. You’ll jinx it!” And another that says, “It’s self-indulgent and gauche to talk about money and your success.” To those voices, I’m learning to say “Shush.” I pride myself on being someone who creates space for big and difficult conversations, like death and dying. Why not money and financial success, too?

It’s not like I’ve won the lottery and have piles of money to be frivolous or exorbitantly generous with right now. In fact, we just got hit with a roof replacement bill of $18k, and property taxes are going up, and we spent close to $1000 on our puppy last month for vet services, and, and, and. There will always be places for the money that comes in to go out. I’m going to notice it and celebrate it when it comes in, and thank it for creating more ease, security and freedom in our lives when it goes out. I’m going to pay more attention to how I want my relationship with money to be, and do the things that will nurture it.

What’s your relationship with money?

If you’re interested in exploring it, let me know! Or, follow Tricia to find out when her next Sacred Power: Money Love course is running. I’m only two weeks in, and I’ve had major revelations (more to come here, soon!).