And once again, I’m committing to being here more. Writing more. I am now my own woman, thanks to taking my life into my hands and giving my corporate job the push. I now have my own business, and am completely responsible for my own life. More on that, later. For now, here’s a link to the post I uploaded to my business website this morning.
http://havecorage.wordpress.com/2013/09/26/things-and-stuff/
Since Saturday, I’ve been focusing on abundance, on attracting it to me in various forms. Whenever I think about it, and also at specific times of day (if I happen to notice the clock), I stop what I’m doing and sit and picture abundance in my life. I know you can’t control how it comes, that you have to recognize that abundance may show up in unexpected ways, but it’s still nice to think about specific areas in which I’d like it to show up.
And already, in the last two days, it has.
I’ve been asking for an abundance of peace, an abundance of love, an abundance of friends, of time, clients, opportunities, chances to make art, chances to snuggle with Q, more time with Michael, more light in my life, those kinds of things. Yesterday evening, I started noticing a shifting that actually began on Saturday. Family members are calling me just to talk and to say they’ll be in town. People in my life are telling me how important I am to them. I’m easily finding information on promoting my business and remembering connections I have that I’d totally forgotten.
This morning, I got a note from a former student in response for a request I’d sent him, asking for a testimonial. The generosity of his response almost brought me to my knees in gratitude. I’m crying now, just thinking about the letter, it’s so affirming and beautiful. (Yes, Universe, I get it. I should be teaching again. If ever I needed a push, that letter sent me over the edge. I’m working on it. Help me out.)
I figured it would work, this request for abundance, I just didn’t expect it would be so soon or so HUGE. I am uplifted with possibility, with hope, with love and with light.
I am brimming with an abundance of gratitude.
The plan was, after a Very Long Day at work, to come home; change the cat litter; change the sheets; take out the trash; clean the living room; clean the bedroom; replace the brita filter (and wash the pitcher); clean up my sad, sad houseplants; do some grocery shopping; and then work on things related to the new binnus. (Say it out loud; it’ll make sense.) Only, here’s what happened instead:
I was STARVING when I got home, so I made dinner, even though it was only 4:30. While eating, I read a couple of chapters of The Artist’s Way. And I got a hankerin’.
So. Though the cat litter still got changed, and the trash (and recycling) went out, and I’m in the middle of load two of laundry, and I put a bunch of stuff that had been cluttering up the living space back into the utility room, and I ran a load of dishes (and put them away), and the brita filter is now spandy new, there are still papers all over the living and bedroom floors and the bed has not yet been made.
On the other hand, I redesigned my business cards and ordered some more, and my art table is clean for the first time since December, except for the TWO new projects that are drying on it. Small, simple projects, two redecorated covers for two notebooks, but projects, nonetheless. Oh. Yeah. And then there’s the new blog post you’re reading.
All in all, I think it was a fantastic use of my time.
*(And while I’m at it, bastardizing Robbie Burns.)
I’ve been experiencing a fascinating phenomenon over the past several weeks. In working to get my coaching business started, I’ve discovered that actually, a labor of love isn’t difficult at all. I mean, it has its moments, but mostly, it’s been something I’m eager to do. Writing copy, working with clients, talking with my own coach about the next steps, putting together the class I’ll be teaching in the fall, it’s all a joy and a wonder, and I’m having a marvelous time.
That isn’t to say that the words for copy always flow easily, or that I don’t have some difficult decisions to make. But it does mean that when I hit a stumbling block, I’m almost always confronting my own nemesis of Not Enough-ness. It all means so much to me, wanting to be successful at coaching so I can help other people find their happiness, and wanting to be successful at it so it can become my one job, instead of my one job of many, that I worry I can’t do or be enough to make that happen. And then the fear takes over, like it does, and I get stuck and blocked. Until I remember again that I am doing this for love.
The other thing that’s helping is Morning Pages. Since I’ll be teaching a class based around The Artist’s Way starting this September, I’ve been re-acquainting myself with the book, and Morning Pages are a big part of the process. I’m discovering how tremendously helpful a tool they are, too. I don’t think I ever did them right before. They weren’t a blurt of ink and thoughts onto paper for me the last time. No. They were a message about how cool I was to my descendants a millennia from now. Seriously. That was the tone. I remember the smugness I felt in the writing. Ugh. Thank goodness for growing up. Now I’m writing them for ME; though they’re harder to read, they’re also more helpful. I get feelings out onto the page, frustrations, joys, worries, and also ideas. They’re actually making stuff happen, and I can FEEL my moods shift as I write. And that’s wonderful.
As I write, I have to keep a second notebook handy, to write down all of my ideas and thoughts for how I want to promote and build the business, all of the things I want to do to make it successful sooner, rather than later. And I get so caught up in that, I forget to be scared. I just don’t have the time for it. That’s pretty wonderful, too.
I’m also writing for the havecorage website (http://havecorage.wordpress.com). I’m doing a post a week, as well as writing up a bio and starting the class description. And I’m trying to find a place to have the class. For once, I’m eager to make telephone calls and to talk to people about renting a space; I’m so excited to make it happen, not even selling myself or the classes is too scary to stop me. Normally, I’d avoid that stuff like the plague, but I’m so excited to share coaching with the world and to pursue a life that is MINE and that makes me happy and that is based on MY choices that I bubble over about it to every person I talk to.
I like being in this place, this spring storm of excitement and enthusiasm and empowerment. With each step I take, it becomes more and more difficult to keep giving up power in my life. I’m just too keen on seeing where this journey takes me to let other people get their way and use me up.
What?
I do. On the Corage Coaching blog. The goal is to post there once a week. Today being that once.
Introducing the Corage Coaching blog:
AND, I figured out how to add it to my blogroll. I am a technical GENIUS.
I’m a coach.
That’s it. Any additional fanfare seemed silly, so I left it out. But at the same time, it’s a BIG deal. I’ve found something I love, and I’m pursuing that dream.
So many people have either assumed I mean acting and dialect coaching or asked what I mean by “a coach,” that I think it’s important to clarify. I mean that I help people find ways to live in line with their purpose, values and desires. I cheer them on, I challenge their assumptions about their limitations, I support them wholeheartedly, I love them deeply. I honor the possibilites they hold within, their discoveries and roadblocks, their stucknesses and their growth. And I adore every second of it.
I realized in late March that coaching was a possibiity for me, so I did some research. I bought a really great book. All of those things pointed to coaching being a good fit for me. (In fact, while reading the book, I realized how much the Co-Active coaching model looks like the way I worked in the classroom. Co-Active coaching allows me to fully be who I really am.)
Then I got a coach myself, to see if the process actually worked. What I discovered is just how much you can figure out in 45 minutes to an hour, given the opportunity to focus on an issue that’s bugging you with a person who asks really helpful questions and occasionally tells you how great you are, using specific examples. Especially when that person gives you homework and holds you accountable for the decisions you make. The truth of an idea is laid bare by a coaching session. I know what I really want and how I intend to go about getting it as a result of one.
I also feel energized after a coaching session, strong and powerful and ready to take on the world. And the things we talk about stay in my head. I continue thinking of the things we discussed long after the session is over.
As a coach, I get to experience the other side of that relationship. I get to watch clients figure out who they are, who they want to be, and I get to know some really amazing people. It’s a truly great job, one I feel called to do. Near the end of my first workshop weekend with the Coaches Training Institute, one of my classmates said, “I feel for the first time in a long time like I’m alive. Like this is who I’m meant to be.” That’s exactly how I feel, and according to my instructors and clients, I’m really good at it. I feel that in my heart, but it’s nice to hear it from them as well.
So this is me announcing the opening of Corage Coaching (no, that’s not a typo). Corage is old French/middle English for courage. But it’s the old-fashioned sort. According to a lovely old (massive) dictionary of mine, it means the following:
1. The attitude or response of facing and dealing with anything recognized as dangerous, difficult or painful, instead of withdrawing from it (see courage).
2. Spirit; desire; temper.
I’ve always led with my heart, this is just putting it out there in the open and inviting my clients to join me.
Currently, I’m looking for clients. I offer free initial one-hour sessions; so many clients are new to coaching that it seems unfair to make them pay for something they might not like or want. (Though it’s so empowering you will love it, I promise.) It’s confidential. I won’t even discuss that you are my client with anyone else, much less share what we talk about.
Coaching is not something that has to be done in person; I’m coaching one of my clients over the phone. So if you or someone you know, would like to try coaching, regardless of where you live, we can make that happen.
I’m still trying to figure out how WordPress works. I can’t get an email link in my sidebar yet, but you can reach me at coragecoaching@gmail.com. I’d love to give you a sample session. Coaching is pretty amazing stuff.
Recently, I cut the final tie to my former marriage. Despite the divorce being official almost two years ago, my previous husband and I still held one thing in common (a physical thing, the last ephemeral thing was all of my Sallyacious entries, and I willingly said goodbye to that stuff in February), and I finally had the time, energy and money to take care of it. The once upon a time spouse had actually been pretty generous, holding off on taking any action himself until I was capable of dealing with things on my end. However. Because I know him and his temper and sensitivity and laziness and impatience, I had chosen to be as nice and as helpful as possible throughout the divorce and also while dealing with this issue. Nice, submissive women get what they want, in certain situations.
The problem here, of course, is that I am not a nice, submissive woman, and it was killing me to not be able to speak my mind. Especially about something as personal and emotional as a failed marriage.
(Before anybody goes jumping on my attitude, suggesting the ending of a marriage doesn’t necessarily mean failure, let me say that neither of us was a better person as a result of the relationship. That to me means it failed us both.)
So. This big THING had been hanging over me for the better part of two years, and I finally, FINALLY, put it to rest a few weeks ago. I closed the door and walked away. I got into the car, pulled onto the highway and thought, “It’s done. It’s over. No more ties. I’m finally, COMPLETELY, divorced.” I let out a sigh and let that weight slip off my shoulders.
I started to cry.
I thought something like that might happen. In order to play as nicely as possible (and thereby get what I wanted), I’d been holding onto a lot of not nice, aggressive, hurtful energies, feelings, thoughts. I pushed those down and kept a lid on them in order to maintain the control I needed to keep things cordial. I knew there would come a moment when I let all of that stuff go that I’d have to experience it cycling through. I just didn’t expect it to involve ten minutes of EPIC crying.
The oddest thing about it, I have to say, was that although I was crying as though my heart had broken (I pulled off the road for this, by the way), and though I was feeling the motions, I was also oddly detached. The source of the emotions existed months ago, maybe even over a year ago, so even though I felt the pain, the immediacy wasn’t there; the edges were dull.
After it was done with me, the emotional tempest, I felt empty, clean, lighter. Also exhausted. I slept like a ROCK that night.
And I haven’t thought much about him since.
I’m. Free.
It’s that I’ve no home internet and no time to write when I have internet access. The home internet thing is about to change, thankfully, but not for another couple of weeks.
In the meantime, I want to express my gratitude to the Universe. I am a lucky, lucky woman to live where I live. I was walking down the street today, thanking my lucky stars I was neither downtown where I work (NATO is wreaking havoc on the schedules of those who are in the Loop, so I opted to take the day OFF), nor at the Crosstown Classic at Wrigley Field where the Sox are most likely beating the pants off the Cubs (as who doesn’t, anymore?). But I was walking down a sunny street in a city I absolutely adore, and that’s a really wonderful thing.
I’ve got some big announcements coming in the next couple of weeks, but that’s for later. (Just to whet your appetite.) For now, I’m working to make my life the life I want to live. It’s hard going some days, but I’m confident I’ll get there. At least I know I’m in the right neighborhood.
I have an affinity for turtles. It’s partly related to a qi gong meditative form I studied several years ago and still occasionally practice. When I meditate, a couple of turtle “personalities” show up in my focus. I don’t know what else to call them.
Old Mother Earth Turtle is HUGE and bawdy and nurturing. She laughs her throaty, dirty old lady laugh, embraces me with her flippers and holds me close and safe. She has taught me to let things roll off my back.
And then there’s the turtle I think of as “MY” turtle: a small, agile animal with a wicked sense of humor. I envision myself on a beach, and he shows up in a curly red wig. Once, he appeared wearing a bumper sticker low on the back of his shell that read, “No hablo Español.”
Last night, I was trying to come up with a good descriptor for how I felt about a situation in which I’m involved, not one I can share here right now, but the important thing is what popped into my head: I feel like a turtle that’s been deliberately turned onto its back in the sand. My flippers are waving, but the cruel hand that left me helpless has gone, and there’s no one to save me.
And then MY turtle washed up on a wave and bumped me with its nose. The nudge set me rocking, and the next wave dug some of the sand out from under me. With my turtle there I was able to relax a bit, and eventually the incoming tide covered me enough that I floated up off the sand and rolled over in the water, able to swim and be free again in my element.
I let the waves rock me to sleep.
This morning on the train, I was thinking about my turtle and the turtle that was me, and I imagined swimming in the water. Suddenly, I was engulfed by a plastic bag. I was thrashing about and suffocating, unable to break free of the plastic, when I had an idea. I relaxed and let my weight pull me down into the water. The bag, being lighter and having more resistance, slipped off of me as I fell backwards out of it.
So. Rescued TWICE by relaxing and letting something else do the work until I could take action and swim away. Which is pretty much the OPPOSITE of my personal M.O. (I generally charge right at that windmill, thank you.) I used my body weight and my element to do the work for me. The interpretation that instantly resonates with me is that the turtle body/weight is my body of work and the water—my element—is the creative, imaginative place in which I live and function best. I think I need to trust that those will be enough to get me what I need, and to rely on them to help me find something better than what I am living with right now.
Sallyacious II 