When you do what you're born to do, it isn't work. Yesterday was my rest day. But rather than lay on the couch watching talk shows, game shows and soaps, I worked on my businesses. I'm not a marketing guru neither do I have a PR agent so I prayed for God, the Ultimate marketing guru and PR agent, to give me some ideas. Using social media and the Secretary of State list of corporations, I sent information about my businesses out into the cyberworld.
Sometimes it's not so much in the who or the what but in the doing. The creating a buzz is what I call it. I didn't know half the people or the corporations that I forwarded information to. I don't know if my introductions sounded contrived or like a door-to-door vacuum cleaner salesman. All I know is that I did something. I made steps to get the word out that Suzette is in business. Like a barber taking his towel and knocking the hair off the barber chair in preparation for the next customer, I was telling the world I am ready for my next customer.
I believe the wisdom needed is activated when you create a buzz. It helps you to recognize the opportunities that your buzz creates. Just the few days ago, a friend came to me with a problem. She knew what she was born to do but admitted to feeling intimidated and afraid. As I encouraged her, the idea came for me to coach her. I didn't have it on my mind. I wasn't looking for it at all. The motivator in me was in full swing and it just happened. "I'll be your life coach," I told her and she happily agreed. Last night was our first session. It was GREAT! She was ready and so was I. As I stood in my authenticity, the wisdom came and we both recognized the moment.
I know most coaches would warn you against coaching friends. I wholeheartedly concur if, and I say if, you or your friends aren't able to distinguish between the coaching relationship and your friendship. In this case, neither of us had that problem. She was about business. So was I. The business of moving towards the fulfilling and purpose-driven life she knew was hers. The business of no longer accepting the roadblocks both internally and externally that had held her up in the past. How courageous she was! She made me bring my A game...lol. I LOVED it!
Another moment where wisdom was in full swing was related to a church I was considering providing musical services for. I was to get back in touch with them after checking my calendar to see if I could play for their choir this Sunday. In the course of the conversation, I became aware of something. Sometimes decisions aren't made immediately. Sometimes you create experiences that will help you to make the right decision.
With respect to this local church, the first experience was to attend a worship service. Before accepting the job, I wanted to get a feel for the environment. I needed to sit in attendance and absorb what was going on around me. Wisdom required that. I've learned it is a serious mistake to jump at the first thing just because of the potential. Observing things is a step we often fail to take that can cost us big later on.
Secondly, especially if working with a choir, I think it is important to either attend a choir rehearsal or, if there is an opening, to actually play for a choir prior to accepting the job. For me, this second experience is necessary for clarity. I need to know what I have to work with and if it has the capacity to nourish my Purpose. It also demonstrates your abilities to the people you are considering serving.
I've seen it happen repeatedly that the decision makers tend to be more open and willing to negotiate when they've heard you play. An instance of that happened. After the worship service ended, the pastor told me he wanted to talk; however, he was in the midst of shaking the hands of parishioners and visitors. I contemplated sitting down to wait but remembered my dress was too short for me to feel comfortable on the front row. Soooo, rather than appearing to pace, I walked over to the keyboard and hit a couple of notes. Before I knew it, a lady walked up and asked if I knew how to play a song and began singing it. Talk about creating a buzz! As I played for her, we became the focus. Without my planning it that way, the church went from an idea of me as a Musical Director to an experience of what I could offer them.
Creating a buzz happens in many ways. Before clients invest in your product or service, they have to not only know that you exist but they have to want what you're offering. You have to be savvy and strategic, yes; but I'm not speaking of ego. I'm speaking of Purpose. I'm speaking of doing what you were born to do. Purpose strategically presents opportunities and Wisdom helps you to be savvy in how you respond. I heard someone put it this way, "A miracle happens when preparation meets opportunity."
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
It Mattered... And We Made It
Have you ever had a day where you were walking along and all of a sudden, it felt like a bolt of lightning hit it and it exploded? Mine was yesterday. I had worked an 8-hour temp assignment; changed clothes in the bathroom for the Summer Camp for Women gala banquet; drove to The Salvation Army to make sure the transportation was there and the campers had all they needed: bag lunches for their kids, check, car seats, check, the Salvation Army banner, check, only to lock my keys in the trunk of my car.
That was the lightning bolt. Stunned and shaken, I used my co-leader's cell phone to call AAA to come unlock my car. The operator said it would be 2 hours before the locksmith would be there. Mind you, the gala banquet started at 6:30pm, it was now 7:00pm. Once the last camper from The Salvation Army was ready to be transported, we decided to go to the camp and just leave my car. Five minutes up the road, a call comes in. The locksmith is going to be at my car in 5-10 minutes. Though I argued that I was told 2 hours, he said that if I wasn't there when he got there and he had to stay or there was another dispatch, AAA would charge me.
Sooooo, we had to turn my co-leader's car around to take me back. My heart ached. It ached for the campers already at the banquet, waiting, wondering what was happening. It ached for the camper and her child in the car. It ached because neither of them had eaten. It ached.
As I entered the banquet to all the revelry and stood behind another camp about to make it's entrance, waving their butterflies and excited as they crossed stage, my heart ached once again. I tried to smile, I tried to talk, I just couldn't. I didn't know where my campers were. I just stood there with bags in my hands. Bags containing the gift bags with each campers name, filled with beauty goodies from friends who generously donated them. When I finally found the ladies, one looked up at me and said, "we didn't get to cross stage...we didn't have our banner." The banner! I had left it in the car. So, I put the bags down walked back to the car that was parked a country mile away and came back with the banner. Even with the efforts and the hope that, though late, maybe just maybe they could be recognized, those gorgeous butterflies didn't get to cross stage. They attended the banquet, yes, but didn't feel part of the banquet. My heart ached again.
"At least you made it!," you might interject. And though that's true and I appreciate the clarity and focus and perspective you'd like to bring to this; it's a tad dismissive to me. Besides, it wasn't about me. It was about the campers who had to get dressed, round up their children, struggle with car seats and crying babies to get there. It was about the final camper being delayed, hungry and tired from catching the bus from her job to pick up her child to come back to a place she didn't want to be, only to get dressed, get to the banquet and by then most of the food was gone.
This morning, it's hard to accept the "at least you made it" argument. The reason for my tears and the sadness in my heart doesn't alter that fact. That's a given. It's this: just fast-forwarding to the end makes it seem like it didn't matter. It did matter. Feelings matter. Their feelings matter. Your feelings matter. My feelings matter. And I can't fast-forward to the victory without acknowledging that it mattered. When you care, it matters. When you feel for someone else's experience, it matters.
So this is what I say. It mattered. I'm gonna let it rest there for a moment. I'm not going to rush to the conjunction: the but, the yet, the still, the and. I will feel all the discomfort that comes when something mattered. I will allow myself to feel it. I will allow myself to grieve the loss of that moment. That moment the ladies didn't get to have. That moment we didn't get to have together. I will allow myself to care. And I believe this. I believe that if I allow my heart to feel as it does without blaming anyone else for what happened, including myself, I will move to, "and we made it." For on the we made it side was seeing the ladies in their pretty dresses and their special hairdo's, sitting together, laughing together. On the we made it side was seeing how impacted they were as the dancers twirled in their white dresses and gold flags. On the we made it side was the look of surprise and delight as the ladies opened their gift bags, read their personal handwritten notes and smelled the fragrance of their shower gels, bath tea bags and salts.
Understand, this blog isn't because I was treated like it didn't matter. Quite the contrary, when I entered the camp, the concern on my sister camp leader's face as I walked in late with my bags was heartfelt. She didn't have to say a word. When my friend, my neighbor, walked up in her yellow and hugged me and said "I was praying for you," I felt her sister heart. When I called the organizer to tell her of all that was going on, she was caring and affirming. So, it was one of those things that happened.
The lesson in this? When people express discomfort or hurt feelings over something. First and foremost, respond in a way that acknowledges that their experience, what they are saying matters. Let it rest right there. Let them feel the healing of those words. Let them feel the validation of their feelings, the validation of their experience. Let it rest. Don't try to move them too quickly. For to do it puts them on the defensive. They start arguing against what you are saying. Let there be a pause. A respectful pause. A hug. A rub on the shoulder. A listening ear. Do this before you shift them to the but, the still, the yet or the and. They'll be more receptive to it.
It mattered...and we made it.
That was the lightning bolt. Stunned and shaken, I used my co-leader's cell phone to call AAA to come unlock my car. The operator said it would be 2 hours before the locksmith would be there. Mind you, the gala banquet started at 6:30pm, it was now 7:00pm. Once the last camper from The Salvation Army was ready to be transported, we decided to go to the camp and just leave my car. Five minutes up the road, a call comes in. The locksmith is going to be at my car in 5-10 minutes. Though I argued that I was told 2 hours, he said that if I wasn't there when he got there and he had to stay or there was another dispatch, AAA would charge me.
Sooooo, we had to turn my co-leader's car around to take me back. My heart ached. It ached for the campers already at the banquet, waiting, wondering what was happening. It ached for the camper and her child in the car. It ached because neither of them had eaten. It ached.
As I entered the banquet to all the revelry and stood behind another camp about to make it's entrance, waving their butterflies and excited as they crossed stage, my heart ached once again. I tried to smile, I tried to talk, I just couldn't. I didn't know where my campers were. I just stood there with bags in my hands. Bags containing the gift bags with each campers name, filled with beauty goodies from friends who generously donated them. When I finally found the ladies, one looked up at me and said, "we didn't get to cross stage...we didn't have our banner." The banner! I had left it in the car. So, I put the bags down walked back to the car that was parked a country mile away and came back with the banner. Even with the efforts and the hope that, though late, maybe just maybe they could be recognized, those gorgeous butterflies didn't get to cross stage. They attended the banquet, yes, but didn't feel part of the banquet. My heart ached again.
"At least you made it!," you might interject. And though that's true and I appreciate the clarity and focus and perspective you'd like to bring to this; it's a tad dismissive to me. Besides, it wasn't about me. It was about the campers who had to get dressed, round up their children, struggle with car seats and crying babies to get there. It was about the final camper being delayed, hungry and tired from catching the bus from her job to pick up her child to come back to a place she didn't want to be, only to get dressed, get to the banquet and by then most of the food was gone.
This morning, it's hard to accept the "at least you made it" argument. The reason for my tears and the sadness in my heart doesn't alter that fact. That's a given. It's this: just fast-forwarding to the end makes it seem like it didn't matter. It did matter. Feelings matter. Their feelings matter. Your feelings matter. My feelings matter. And I can't fast-forward to the victory without acknowledging that it mattered. When you care, it matters. When you feel for someone else's experience, it matters.
So this is what I say. It mattered. I'm gonna let it rest there for a moment. I'm not going to rush to the conjunction: the but, the yet, the still, the and. I will feel all the discomfort that comes when something mattered. I will allow myself to feel it. I will allow myself to grieve the loss of that moment. That moment the ladies didn't get to have. That moment we didn't get to have together. I will allow myself to care. And I believe this. I believe that if I allow my heart to feel as it does without blaming anyone else for what happened, including myself, I will move to, "and we made it." For on the we made it side was seeing the ladies in their pretty dresses and their special hairdo's, sitting together, laughing together. On the we made it side was seeing how impacted they were as the dancers twirled in their white dresses and gold flags. On the we made it side was the look of surprise and delight as the ladies opened their gift bags, read their personal handwritten notes and smelled the fragrance of their shower gels, bath tea bags and salts.
Understand, this blog isn't because I was treated like it didn't matter. Quite the contrary, when I entered the camp, the concern on my sister camp leader's face as I walked in late with my bags was heartfelt. She didn't have to say a word. When my friend, my neighbor, walked up in her yellow and hugged me and said "I was praying for you," I felt her sister heart. When I called the organizer to tell her of all that was going on, she was caring and affirming. So, it was one of those things that happened.
The lesson in this? When people express discomfort or hurt feelings over something. First and foremost, respond in a way that acknowledges that their experience, what they are saying matters. Let it rest right there. Let them feel the healing of those words. Let them feel the validation of their feelings, the validation of their experience. Let it rest. Don't try to move them too quickly. For to do it puts them on the defensive. They start arguing against what you are saying. Let there be a pause. A respectful pause. A hug. A rub on the shoulder. A listening ear. Do this before you shift them to the but, the still, the yet or the and. They'll be more receptive to it.
It mattered...and we made it.
Sunday, August 12, 2012
For All The Write Reasons
What an experience! On a whim, I went to Mahogany Experience August Meetup on Saturday at 1pm. I came across the meeting while surfing the web looking for Lord knows what. I'm so glad I went! I walked in and saw writers sitting around the table with laptops opened, ready to get started. I rushed and got situated, plugging up my laptop and waiting to see what this meetup was all about.
Kim Allbritton, the organizer, led the group in various writing exercises. Surprisingly, I discovered a creative writing side that I didn't know I had. Most impactful was she asked us to turn over some pictures and write the name, age, occupation, describe their personality and tell their story.
Exercise 1
I flipped over this picture and I knew immediately this was Beulah Mae. I wrote:
Exercise 2
I flipped over this picture, looked into her face and immediately, this came to mind:
I was amazed by this! I didn't know I could look at a person's facial expression and create a character. It was exhilarating.
Looking forward to next month's meeting!
Kim Allbritton, the organizer, led the group in various writing exercises. Surprisingly, I discovered a creative writing side that I didn't know I had. Most impactful was she asked us to turn over some pictures and write the name, age, occupation, describe their personality and tell their story.
Exercise 1
I flipped over this picture and I knew immediately this was Beulah Mae. I wrote:
Hello, my name is Beulah Mae, the chu’ren in my neighborhood
call me Miss Mae. My age is 65 and I am
a grandmother. Had a hard life, so to
speak. Folks look at me and just see
another middle aged black woman but they don’t know that I have dreams
too. I had to put my dreams on hold to
raise my kids and now I’m raising their kids.
Don’t get me wrong. I love these
kids. Look at ‘em, just playin and
eatin. Carefree. I remember when I use to be carefree. Though I love them and I’m not bitter, I wish
I could have done what I really wanted to do.
I wanted to be a writer. I tell
stories, ya know. Stories about faraway
places. Places I had hoped to go to one
day. Now, though, I find that my
stories are limited to telling Little Tyrone why he needs to stop digging in
his nose in public or telling Mary to stop talking when grown folks are talking. My kids don’t even know that I keep paper
underneath my pillow. When they all go
to bed, I turn off the lights, get me a flashlight and start writing. I can’t help it. I remember my husband, my chu’rens’ father,
Bill. He didn’t like my writin. He said that all I needed to do was fix him
dinner and take care of them kids I had.
He always resented the kids. He
told me that I wasn’t a writer. Stop
that dreamin. One day, I came in and he
was reading what I wrote. He threw it at
me and asked me who was Paris. He
thought I was talking about another man. Fool!
But anyway…sigh…maybe I can keep working so my kids can go. “Mary, stop hitting your brother!”
I flipped over this picture, looked into her face and immediately, this came to mind:
Oh William, what am I going to do now? I feel so bad thinking about me. After all, it is your funeral. So much of my life was about you. I loved you, William. Truly I did.
Should I feel bad that I’m sitting here and I feel relief. You were my husband of 50 years. We had so many plans. We were going to travel after the kids left
home. But one thing led to another. Julie’s cancer scare had us all in a
tizzy. Bill’s job lay off. You didn’t want him to move back home but I
insisted. I’m sorry, William. You always said I loved him more than
you. I really didn’t. I took my vows seriously, Wiliam. For richer, for poorer. In sickness and in health. Neither of us thought about the sickness
part. I chuckle when I think about
it. We thought we’d live forever. We were going to get us a little cottage by
the beach, remember Wiliaml. You promised
me a cottage.
I was amazed by this! I didn't know I could look at a person's facial expression and create a character. It was exhilarating.
Looking forward to next month's meeting!
Friday, August 10, 2012
My New Website
I can't believe it's up and running! My new website went public last night and I'm so excited. Yay!! I'm so proud. I built it myself! Using a free Google website, I added contonkas and what-whoozles of my own. My creativity was on steroids, lemme tell ya. I hadn't felt so stirred up since I was a kid, sitting on the floor with my baby sis, creating imaginary families and drawing about their lives on paper. Who would have guessed that watching The Wonderful World of Disney, Joanne Tate on The Guiding Light or Bob Hughes on As the World Turns would feed such brilliance...lol!
What makes this website special to me is I've come full circle...but it's from a higher plane. A higher plane of sight that wasn't there before. I feel like my eyes have come open. I see the broadness of who I am and the importance of what I have to offer the world. I didn't understand that 5 years ago when I attempted to launch Purposeful Connections. Heck, I didn't understand it ever.
For instance, doing business as Odyssey Administrative Services, I created newsletters for my Mary Kay Executive Director and members of her down line. I recall what led up to it. My Director shared how she was told she needed an Administrative Assistant and to publish a newsletter. She was an Executive Director after all. I remember her heaving and ho-ing for a minute, having trouble collecting her thoughts. She wasn't that stoked about it at first. But I remember the look in her eyes when she saw her first newsletter. She was so amazed! I remember when I delivered her 100 impressive newsletters to her Mary Kay Sales Meeting. Folks thought she had had them professionally done. I beamed as I watched the response. After that meeting was over, two more Directors approached me about my services. What a grand moment; yet, I didn't comprehend it.
I also convinced a Baptist pastor to allow me to subcontract as pianist for his youth choir. This was unconventional. He hadn't planned to do it any other way but the regular way: hiring me based on what he wanted to pay. I asked him to consider doing it another way. With that, I whipped out my portfolio with the name Odyssey Music Consultants on it. It was slick! I showed him my concept, my services, my fees and the pro's of doing it my way. He was impressed. He said my enthusiasm made him want to give my idea a try. Another grand moment; still, I didn't get it. I didn't get the connection.
These bursts of creativity and innovation and glimmers into my future were just that, bursts and glimmers. I didn't understand what it meant, I just wanted the satisfaction. The satisfaction of doing something I enjoyed, doing it my way and getting paid for it. I didn't see the grandness of it. I didn't see God's favor or the swell of God's creativity, His inventiveness and His execution flowing through me. The prophetic energy of how I could best serve my Purpose. I didn't see it.
When you don't know the value of what you have to offer, you will always be undersold. My ego was so in control that I wanted, no needed, to be accepted and loved. I needed to be validated by my church. As a result, I threw my gifts and talents behind anybody and everybody who had the potential to give me money or validation. Nothing wrong with it if it comes from an authentic place. Mine did not. I accepted the lesser because I didn't understand the Greater.
Until now. I am now standing straight and walking steady. I see how every experience, every burst, glimmer, swell, even what seemed like bad decisions at the time have supported me. My sense of purpose and vision has gone from fragmented to whole, from flighty to grounded, from blurry to clear. I am being shifted from one place to another, most times blind to the game of chess that God is playing until I later marvel at the move He just made.
This website is my announcement to the world that Suzette is back and ready to do it right this time.
What makes this website special to me is I've come full circle...but it's from a higher plane. A higher plane of sight that wasn't there before. I feel like my eyes have come open. I see the broadness of who I am and the importance of what I have to offer the world. I didn't understand that 5 years ago when I attempted to launch Purposeful Connections. Heck, I didn't understand it ever.
I knew I could do many things. I knew I found ways to do things in a unique fashion. Nevertheless, somehow...somehow folks would buy into my eccentricity. I certainly gave God the credit, but I didn't sense the grandness.
For instance, doing business as Odyssey Administrative Services, I created newsletters for my Mary Kay Executive Director and members of her down line. I recall what led up to it. My Director shared how she was told she needed an Administrative Assistant and to publish a newsletter. She was an Executive Director after all. I remember her heaving and ho-ing for a minute, having trouble collecting her thoughts. She wasn't that stoked about it at first. But I remember the look in her eyes when she saw her first newsletter. She was so amazed! I remember when I delivered her 100 impressive newsletters to her Mary Kay Sales Meeting. Folks thought she had had them professionally done. I beamed as I watched the response. After that meeting was over, two more Directors approached me about my services. What a grand moment; yet, I didn't comprehend it.
I also convinced a Baptist pastor to allow me to subcontract as pianist for his youth choir. This was unconventional. He hadn't planned to do it any other way but the regular way: hiring me based on what he wanted to pay. I asked him to consider doing it another way. With that, I whipped out my portfolio with the name Odyssey Music Consultants on it. It was slick! I showed him my concept, my services, my fees and the pro's of doing it my way. He was impressed. He said my enthusiasm made him want to give my idea a try. Another grand moment; still, I didn't get it. I didn't get the connection.
These bursts of creativity and innovation and glimmers into my future were just that, bursts and glimmers. I didn't understand what it meant, I just wanted the satisfaction. The satisfaction of doing something I enjoyed, doing it my way and getting paid for it. I didn't see the grandness of it. I didn't see God's favor or the swell of God's creativity, His inventiveness and His execution flowing through me. The prophetic energy of how I could best serve my Purpose. I didn't see it.
When you don't know the value of what you have to offer, you will always be undersold. My ego was so in control that I wanted, no needed, to be accepted and loved. I needed to be validated by my church. As a result, I threw my gifts and talents behind anybody and everybody who had the potential to give me money or validation. Nothing wrong with it if it comes from an authentic place. Mine did not. I accepted the lesser because I didn't understand the Greater.
Until now. I am now standing straight and walking steady. I see how every experience, every burst, glimmer, swell, even what seemed like bad decisions at the time have supported me. My sense of purpose and vision has gone from fragmented to whole, from flighty to grounded, from blurry to clear. I am being shifted from one place to another, most times blind to the game of chess that God is playing until I later marvel at the move He just made.
This website is my announcement to the world that Suzette is back and ready to do it right this time.
Monday, July 30, 2012
I WILL TRY AGAIN
I am a life coach. I said it, yes I did. I've been afraid to go there. I've been afraid of another false start, another disappointment so I've skirted the issue. I can't any longer. Today, I've had not one but two sister entrepreneurs shake me up.
It started with one asking me if I still needed a job. Although I was expecting one thing and I'm sure she was too, it turned into her giving me a pep talk. She said that I had talked about doing my own thing. At first, it seemed she had misconstrued what I was actually looking for but as she continued to talk, I realized it wasn't a mistake. She kept saying, "you said you want to work for yourself." I corrected her. I don't remember saying that. "I actually said I wanted fulfilling work," I clarified. I am beginning to wonder if it was a God slip that neither of us was aware of.
Another possible "God slip" happened tonight at Summer Camp for Women. We had a guest speaker whose topic was supposed to be "what you won't do for love," but it took on another energy. Somehow, some way, she began to speak to our dreams. Before long, we were reaching for paper and pens and coming up with names for our businesses and tag lines. Without a doubt, there was creative energy swirling around like an electric current, lighting on each of us and lighting the candle within. It changed the countenance of each person's face. Their eyes lit up as they talked about what they liked to do and what they felt passionate about.
She spoke to my slumber. "Girl, you need to get you a name, go get you a business license as a consultant and work for yourself," she urged. I smiled and nodded like I was hearing her, but inside, I was petrified. Not one, but two women read my mail today!! One thing's for sure. I don't think it was a coincidence that two ladies whom I had never talked vision with went all past my outfit and exposed me to myself. "Maybe the reason you haven't gotten hired yet is because you're not suppose to be doing those jobs," our guest speaker said. Duhhhh, I thought to myself. Makes perfect sense. Why else with your resume and swag would you not be hired yet? God heard me, that's why.
He heard the voice of Purpose within me say, "I want to do fulfilling work." He heard me say, "I want to wake up every morning excited about my day." He heard me say, "I need to feel inspired." So when were you last fulfilled?, I ask myself. It was as a subcontractor. It was!
Over the years, I've had quite a few subcontracting ventures, times I worked for myself and LOVED IT! First there was Odyssey Music Consultants. I subcontracted my musical talents for temporary gigs at church. What I enjoyed was being in charge of my own time and my own resources. Rather than being employed and subject to being there whenever the doors opened, I got to say when, where and how much. Ahhhhh, the freedom!
Bout the same time, I gave birth to Odyssey Administrative Services (yes, I liked the name Odyssey back then). I remember offering secretarial, desktop publishing and bookkeeping services. My favorite jobs were providing clerical assistance to my ex-husband's start up company and creating newsletters for Mary Kay Directors. I loved the collaborative nature of the jobs. Unlike being employed where the job is already pre-canned, this allowed for customization. The terms and scope and compensation were up to me. I could say "yes," or "I'll do this and this but not that." I LOVED that!
I wasn't confined to a belief. I wasn't confined to a desk. I could take my trusty laptop to a restaurant, a home, a park bench and do business. Sure, I worked hard and spent many long nights editing and proofing and printing from my then deskjet printer, but it was worth it. I managed my time. I worked creatively. I scheduled my day the way I wanted. And getting those checks! I loved taking checks to the bank day after day: One from Customer A for an administrative clerical job and another from a bride after playing the piano for her wedding. I LOVED it!
Fast forward a few years and I left a job as a substance abuse counselor with a larger vision. Purposeful Connections I called it. This was my debut as a Life Coach. Although the administrative emphasis allowed for the businesswoman in me, life coaching allowed another part of me to be expressed. The me that connects with the authentic soul of another. The me that delights in a person's raised consciousness of who they are and what would be a meaningful expression of themselves. Like a sculptor, I had chiseled away the excess to reveal the truest representation of my skills, talents and yes, purpose. Life coaching was the PERFECT expression of that. So why didn't it work? That's been the fear I've tried to hide but that these ladies dove all past to get to. There's a scripture in the Bible that says if you build it, they'll come. Well, I built it; but they didn't come.
Here's the thing. When you feel that you put it all out there before and fell flat, you limp away embarrassed and doubting the true strength of your calling. I took a leap of faith, developed my website, wrote articles to drive traffic to my website, opened up for business but it didn't go as I envisioned. Sooooo, I put a spin on it. When people would ask me about my coaching, I would tell them I was but it was expressed in my "consulting" with churches, teaching piano to kids, writing articles and blogging. I said this yes, but in my heart, I felt like a failure. I wasn't doing true life coaching. I didn't have clients who were willing to pay me to coach them. In my heart, I was ashamed.
Secondly, even with my subcontracting, it wasn't sustainable. I would ride high for a minute but then it would fizzle. I didn't know how to handle the fizzle. I didn't know how to sustain or reinvent. I didn't know how to be in that space. So, I'd run back to what's familiar.
I'm not going to sit here and say that I'm going to stop filling out job applications. Sorry, but my faith ain't there. I need income. I can admit however that my last job was suppose to create income so that I could grow my business. I lost sight of that. Instead of holding on to my focus, I slipped into accomodating. I started working more hours and shifted to what I knew best. I betrayed myself. I betrayed myself and it pulled me under like quicksand. That's what today has been for me. It's been a light shining on my shame. It's been a light shining on my shakened confidence. Maybe I'm not a life coach, I've pondered. Maybe I don't have what it takes. Maybe I've got these big dreams and it's all a bunch of hogwash,I've feared. And I've hid. My purpose tucked its tail and went underground while I got a "real job."
I don't know what the outcome will be this time; but I know after tonight that I've got to try again. My need for fulfillment isn't just a wish, it's a cry. I will try again!
It started with one asking me if I still needed a job. Although I was expecting one thing and I'm sure she was too, it turned into her giving me a pep talk. She said that I had talked about doing my own thing. At first, it seemed she had misconstrued what I was actually looking for but as she continued to talk, I realized it wasn't a mistake. She kept saying, "you said you want to work for yourself." I corrected her. I don't remember saying that. "I actually said I wanted fulfilling work," I clarified. I am beginning to wonder if it was a God slip that neither of us was aware of.
Another possible "God slip" happened tonight at Summer Camp for Women. We had a guest speaker whose topic was supposed to be "what you won't do for love," but it took on another energy. Somehow, some way, she began to speak to our dreams. Before long, we were reaching for paper and pens and coming up with names for our businesses and tag lines. Without a doubt, there was creative energy swirling around like an electric current, lighting on each of us and lighting the candle within. It changed the countenance of each person's face. Their eyes lit up as they talked about what they liked to do and what they felt passionate about.
She spoke to my slumber. "Girl, you need to get you a name, go get you a business license as a consultant and work for yourself," she urged. I smiled and nodded like I was hearing her, but inside, I was petrified. Not one, but two women read my mail today!! One thing's for sure. I don't think it was a coincidence that two ladies whom I had never talked vision with went all past my outfit and exposed me to myself. "Maybe the reason you haven't gotten hired yet is because you're not suppose to be doing those jobs," our guest speaker said. Duhhhh, I thought to myself. Makes perfect sense. Why else with your resume and swag would you not be hired yet? God heard me, that's why.
He heard the voice of Purpose within me say, "I want to do fulfilling work." He heard me say, "I want to wake up every morning excited about my day." He heard me say, "I need to feel inspired." So when were you last fulfilled?, I ask myself. It was as a subcontractor. It was!
Over the years, I've had quite a few subcontracting ventures, times I worked for myself and LOVED IT! First there was Odyssey Music Consultants. I subcontracted my musical talents for temporary gigs at church. What I enjoyed was being in charge of my own time and my own resources. Rather than being employed and subject to being there whenever the doors opened, I got to say when, where and how much. Ahhhhh, the freedom!
Bout the same time, I gave birth to Odyssey Administrative Services (yes, I liked the name Odyssey back then). I remember offering secretarial, desktop publishing and bookkeeping services. My favorite jobs were providing clerical assistance to my ex-husband's start up company and creating newsletters for Mary Kay Directors. I loved the collaborative nature of the jobs. Unlike being employed where the job is already pre-canned, this allowed for customization. The terms and scope and compensation were up to me. I could say "yes," or "I'll do this and this but not that." I LOVED that!
I wasn't confined to a belief. I wasn't confined to a desk. I could take my trusty laptop to a restaurant, a home, a park bench and do business. Sure, I worked hard and spent many long nights editing and proofing and printing from my then deskjet printer, but it was worth it. I managed my time. I worked creatively. I scheduled my day the way I wanted. And getting those checks! I loved taking checks to the bank day after day: One from Customer A for an administrative clerical job and another from a bride after playing the piano for her wedding. I LOVED it!
Fast forward a few years and I left a job as a substance abuse counselor with a larger vision. Purposeful Connections I called it. This was my debut as a Life Coach. Although the administrative emphasis allowed for the businesswoman in me, life coaching allowed another part of me to be expressed. The me that connects with the authentic soul of another. The me that delights in a person's raised consciousness of who they are and what would be a meaningful expression of themselves. Like a sculptor, I had chiseled away the excess to reveal the truest representation of my skills, talents and yes, purpose. Life coaching was the PERFECT expression of that. So why didn't it work? That's been the fear I've tried to hide but that these ladies dove all past to get to. There's a scripture in the Bible that says if you build it, they'll come. Well, I built it; but they didn't come.
Here's the thing. When you feel that you put it all out there before and fell flat, you limp away embarrassed and doubting the true strength of your calling. I took a leap of faith, developed my website, wrote articles to drive traffic to my website, opened up for business but it didn't go as I envisioned. Sooooo, I put a spin on it. When people would ask me about my coaching, I would tell them I was but it was expressed in my "consulting" with churches, teaching piano to kids, writing articles and blogging. I said this yes, but in my heart, I felt like a failure. I wasn't doing true life coaching. I didn't have clients who were willing to pay me to coach them. In my heart, I was ashamed.
Secondly, even with my subcontracting, it wasn't sustainable. I would ride high for a minute but then it would fizzle. I didn't know how to handle the fizzle. I didn't know how to sustain or reinvent. I didn't know how to be in that space. So, I'd run back to what's familiar.
I'm not going to sit here and say that I'm going to stop filling out job applications. Sorry, but my faith ain't there. I need income. I can admit however that my last job was suppose to create income so that I could grow my business. I lost sight of that. Instead of holding on to my focus, I slipped into accomodating. I started working more hours and shifted to what I knew best. I betrayed myself. I betrayed myself and it pulled me under like quicksand. That's what today has been for me. It's been a light shining on my shame. It's been a light shining on my shakened confidence. Maybe I'm not a life coach, I've pondered. Maybe I don't have what it takes. Maybe I've got these big dreams and it's all a bunch of hogwash,I've feared. And I've hid. My purpose tucked its tail and went underground while I got a "real job."
I don't know what the outcome will be this time; but I know after tonight that I've got to try again. My need for fulfillment isn't just a wish, it's a cry. I will try again!
Sunday, July 22, 2012
Images of My Calling
People who study human behavior concur that most of who we are is determined by age 5. So, I've decided to look back at my first five years and what stands out for me. I don't have complete memories of that time, but I do have images and I do remember certain feelings.
One image is of me riding in the truck with my Granddad Oscar Cannon. I remember sitting in his lap as he drove. I remember the feeling of absolute joy and adoration I received from him.
Another image is my anticipation of my daddy coming home from Nashville NC. He worked there during the week. Week after week, I asked Mom if he was coming home for the weekend. I was very young then. I remember the longing for him to come home. He represented something for me that was missing when he wasn't there. Life was better when he was home. Life was lacking when he wasn't. Mom had told us daddy was coming home. I remember that pacing inside of me as I anguished over when. I just about jumped out of my skin when I heard that familiar bellowing voice that called out, "Alice Lee!," the name he fondly called my mom. I remember running and jumping on him. He laughed and hugged and kissed me. When he put me down, he took out a shoebox. Jumping up and down at the anticipation that he had brought me something, he pulled a pair of tennis shoes from the box. I didn't have the right foot, left foot thing down, so I needed some help with putting them on and lacing them. I can't remember if I got help or put them on the wrong foot myself, but for the rest of the day, I walked, jumped and played, looking down at my feet with absolute pride. One of my happiest memories with my dad.
Just the same, there was some dark images. Images of being the dark, nappy-headed child that people rushed pass to pick up and play with my baby sister. Hearing that light skinned and loosely curly hair was pretty, I learned that I was ugly pretty early on.
I have a very painful image of how I was treated by others when my baby sister was a baby in diapers. Only 1 1/2 years older than my baby sister, I remember her soiled diaper being shoved into my hand by my older sister. Forcefully, she told me to take it to the bathroom and dip it up and down in the toilet to remove the bowel movement from it. I hated it. I cried and resisted while she threatened to spank me if I didn't. While the soiled water splashed on me, I dunked the diaper up and down in that water. I felt so dirty and humiliated. That shame followed me, manifesting in other ways as I grew up.
I don't know if I was 5, 6 or 7 when this happened, but there was a shift. I remember going to school and decided that whatever I learned, my baby sister had to know. We'd grab our dolls and stuffed animals and I'd create a classroom where they were the students. At the time, we had a piece of furniture that doubled as a chalkboard that became a desktop when you pulled down the knob at the top to open it. With chalk in hand, I taught my students to read, to spell, to do whatever I learned in school that day. My baby sister had a short attention span back then, so I had to threaten her or bargain with her to gain her compliance. I'm not proud of the lengths I went to. Another coercion, if you will, happened when I took an interest in the piano. We had a high-backed antique white acoustic piano in our living room. When I discovered that with one finger I could play songs, I told my baby sister she needed to do this too. Employing my trusty motivators, I compelled my sister to learn to hear the notes and play the piano as well.
Another shift was performing. My sister and I would grab a hairbrush, a pencil or a Popsicle stick and sing into it. We'd plop a stocking cap on our heads so we could have a swinging ponytail and make up songs. We'd sing together. On those days when my mom ran us out of the house so we could get some fresh air, we'd sit on the front porch with flyswatters. We'd soon get bored with swatting flies and gnats and start singing. Even then, we drew a crowd. They would stand and applaud us. We could harmonize even that young! I remember that my mom and dad soon started signing us up to sing at church. My younger sister was apprehensive about it, but I LOVED the spotlight. I loved performing. I loved the energy of it and the approving nods and applause I received. In fact, I remember that music was a safe place. It was something I did well. Even more, my dad approved of me when I did it. I know that sounds minor but to a girl growing into a young woman that heard repeatedly day-after-day how inadequate, wrong, Jezebel-like, unacceptable I was from my dad's lips, it was so wonderful to know that there were three areas of my life where he always spoke well of me: athletics, academics and music.
An extension of this artsy-ness for my baby sister and I was drawing. We'd sit for hours drawing. It was so encompassing that my dad took note of it. He started bringing home stacks of paper for us to draw on. That was GOLD to us. It didn't matter to us that there as writing on one side, as long as the other side was blank. We'd draw and draw and draw, getting lost in it. We were content to stay indoors with a pencil, pen or crayon and draw. Our drawing wasn't doodling but it was purposeful. We created families and life scenarios that we'd express on paper. The name of my major character was Susan Randolph. My younger sister's was Sabrina Randolph. Susan Randolph had a family. I remember Susan Randolph had handsome men in her family that Sabrina's female family members wanted to marry. It amazes me to this day how my younger sister and I created these "families" and worked through issues we observed in our own family, in our community, and on the black and white TV we were sat in front of to entertain us. Issues like love, family and romance were dealt with on paper. Our men and women kissed. We'd draw two heads pressed together with hearts above it. We got scolded for it, but we kept doing it until Mom threatened to whip us if we didn't stop.
How is what was established back then clues to what I am called to do? I was a seeker of knowledge. I loved to tell others about what I had learned. I enjoyed connecting with others and sharing the joy of the connection. Music allowed me to do that.
Even now, I am a student of life. I remember church settings where the preachers would expound on certain scriptures or Biblical passages. Although what they said was received by those spiritual people I wanted validation from, many of their analogies and connections didn't register with me. It just didn't feel right. For instance, I couldn't reconcile what wearing makeup and jewelry had to do with a label of being Jezebel. Or how wearing pants was a sin. Or having to "tarry" for the Holy Ghost when the Bible said it was a gift. I always questioned. Even with some school teachers, if I questioned them, I would be reprimanded, or worst, slapped on the hand with the ruler. Just like a child who has to answer the call from within to walk, I had to question. I guess my son got it honest. I chuckle about it now. God does have a sense of humor.
As I did with my little sister, I have to invite others to seek something greater. I just have to. I can't shut my mouth any more than I could when I was a kid. No number of backhands, whippings, punishments or shaming can turn it off. I don't bully folks anymore, I'm happy to say. I just share and allow the outcome to take it's own form or journey with those I am talking with.
I also have to perform. There is something in it that gives me such satisfaction. Just yesterday, I sang with a group of brilliant musicians and singers at a friend's wedding. I got such a buzz from it. It's another way that I express what's in my heart. It's another way I connect with Something Greater. I sing about what is meaningful to me. I enjoy the art of it, the delivery of it, the swell inside and that familiar flow I learned to connect with at an early age. It feels disinhibiting. My soul dances. Like the little girl who use to dance around the living room while singing "I love the Lord" to the 45 record spinning on the pink phonograph player, I feel such freedom. I connect with the spiritual when I sing. I connect with souls of others and share in the release. It's glorious!
Geography doesn't matter. Whether it's on my front porch or in a stadium, I have to express what I've learned. The vehicle doesn't matter. Regardless to whether it's singing, speaking, writing or working, I have to express my Truth. I have to hone the talents, the gifts, the spiritual insights, the knowledge, the experience in open and empowering ways. My soul dances when I do.
Maybe against this backdrop, it is not surprising that when I took the test of what I am born to do, it came up "knowledge." It suggested that I work in research and development. Now, nothing inside of me wants to do that. Nevertheless, I have a thirst for knowledge. I have a thirst for the deeper and more profound Truth that holds everything together. I'm fascinated with it. Maybe that's why I'm drawn to Psychology and self help. It's the wisdom for abundant living that came out of my suffering. Maybe that's why life coaching appeals to me: Maybe that's why writing is like breathing for me. I get to share the knowledge and the wisdom in ways that helps others to discover the wealth they have inside of them to reach their goals. I believe that is my greatest gift to this world. It might not be received by everybody, but for those who I was created to serve, it will be a lifeline that will outlive my earthly existence.
Before I close this blog, I want to share this disclaimer. I am not sharing any of this about my childhood and my family to dishonor them. God permitted me to be born to my parents, my family, my community, my church. My experience of my childhood is my experience. My mom and my dad loved us more than anything in this world. I don't doubt that. They raised us as best they could with what they knew and who they were. They were works in progress just as we all are. I have the peace that they meant well and I honor them for being the pillars that God trusted with my development. Even my elder sister was little more than a baby herself when she was pushed into an adult role against her will. It only makes sense she would retaliate just as I did when my mom put me in that role after my sister left for college. My older sister was just 7 years old when I was born and just 9 when my younger sister came on the scene. I only share these things because they are a part of my experience. If my honesty can help a parent to rethink how they raise their children or can help to heal a child who carries around shame or guilt, then it would serve a Higher Purpose. I accept that God allowed it. He could have stopped it but He chose not to. I've forgiven that. I believe it's because He knew He could heal every wound and there was purpose in my afflictions. That is enough for me. And I feel humbly grateful, that God allowed me to go through EVERY SINGLE thing.
One image is of me riding in the truck with my Granddad Oscar Cannon. I remember sitting in his lap as he drove. I remember the feeling of absolute joy and adoration I received from him.
Another image is my anticipation of my daddy coming home from Nashville NC. He worked there during the week. Week after week, I asked Mom if he was coming home for the weekend. I was very young then. I remember the longing for him to come home. He represented something for me that was missing when he wasn't there. Life was better when he was home. Life was lacking when he wasn't. Mom had told us daddy was coming home. I remember that pacing inside of me as I anguished over when. I just about jumped out of my skin when I heard that familiar bellowing voice that called out, "Alice Lee!," the name he fondly called my mom. I remember running and jumping on him. He laughed and hugged and kissed me. When he put me down, he took out a shoebox. Jumping up and down at the anticipation that he had brought me something, he pulled a pair of tennis shoes from the box. I didn't have the right foot, left foot thing down, so I needed some help with putting them on and lacing them. I can't remember if I got help or put them on the wrong foot myself, but for the rest of the day, I walked, jumped and played, looking down at my feet with absolute pride. One of my happiest memories with my dad.
Just the same, there was some dark images. Images of being the dark, nappy-headed child that people rushed pass to pick up and play with my baby sister. Hearing that light skinned and loosely curly hair was pretty, I learned that I was ugly pretty early on.
I have a very painful image of how I was treated by others when my baby sister was a baby in diapers. Only 1 1/2 years older than my baby sister, I remember her soiled diaper being shoved into my hand by my older sister. Forcefully, she told me to take it to the bathroom and dip it up and down in the toilet to remove the bowel movement from it. I hated it. I cried and resisted while she threatened to spank me if I didn't. While the soiled water splashed on me, I dunked the diaper up and down in that water. I felt so dirty and humiliated. That shame followed me, manifesting in other ways as I grew up.
I don't know if I was 5, 6 or 7 when this happened, but there was a shift. I remember going to school and decided that whatever I learned, my baby sister had to know. We'd grab our dolls and stuffed animals and I'd create a classroom where they were the students. At the time, we had a piece of furniture that doubled as a chalkboard that became a desktop when you pulled down the knob at the top to open it. With chalk in hand, I taught my students to read, to spell, to do whatever I learned in school that day. My baby sister had a short attention span back then, so I had to threaten her or bargain with her to gain her compliance. I'm not proud of the lengths I went to. Another coercion, if you will, happened when I took an interest in the piano. We had a high-backed antique white acoustic piano in our living room. When I discovered that with one finger I could play songs, I told my baby sister she needed to do this too. Employing my trusty motivators, I compelled my sister to learn to hear the notes and play the piano as well.
Another shift was performing. My sister and I would grab a hairbrush, a pencil or a Popsicle stick and sing into it. We'd plop a stocking cap on our heads so we could have a swinging ponytail and make up songs. We'd sing together. On those days when my mom ran us out of the house so we could get some fresh air, we'd sit on the front porch with flyswatters. We'd soon get bored with swatting flies and gnats and start singing. Even then, we drew a crowd. They would stand and applaud us. We could harmonize even that young! I remember that my mom and dad soon started signing us up to sing at church. My younger sister was apprehensive about it, but I LOVED the spotlight. I loved performing. I loved the energy of it and the approving nods and applause I received. In fact, I remember that music was a safe place. It was something I did well. Even more, my dad approved of me when I did it. I know that sounds minor but to a girl growing into a young woman that heard repeatedly day-after-day how inadequate, wrong, Jezebel-like, unacceptable I was from my dad's lips, it was so wonderful to know that there were three areas of my life where he always spoke well of me: athletics, academics and music.
An extension of this artsy-ness for my baby sister and I was drawing. We'd sit for hours drawing. It was so encompassing that my dad took note of it. He started bringing home stacks of paper for us to draw on. That was GOLD to us. It didn't matter to us that there as writing on one side, as long as the other side was blank. We'd draw and draw and draw, getting lost in it. We were content to stay indoors with a pencil, pen or crayon and draw. Our drawing wasn't doodling but it was purposeful. We created families and life scenarios that we'd express on paper. The name of my major character was Susan Randolph. My younger sister's was Sabrina Randolph. Susan Randolph had a family. I remember Susan Randolph had handsome men in her family that Sabrina's female family members wanted to marry. It amazes me to this day how my younger sister and I created these "families" and worked through issues we observed in our own family, in our community, and on the black and white TV we were sat in front of to entertain us. Issues like love, family and romance were dealt with on paper. Our men and women kissed. We'd draw two heads pressed together with hearts above it. We got scolded for it, but we kept doing it until Mom threatened to whip us if we didn't stop.
How is what was established back then clues to what I am called to do? I was a seeker of knowledge. I loved to tell others about what I had learned. I enjoyed connecting with others and sharing the joy of the connection. Music allowed me to do that.
Even now, I am a student of life. I remember church settings where the preachers would expound on certain scriptures or Biblical passages. Although what they said was received by those spiritual people I wanted validation from, many of their analogies and connections didn't register with me. It just didn't feel right. For instance, I couldn't reconcile what wearing makeup and jewelry had to do with a label of being Jezebel. Or how wearing pants was a sin. Or having to "tarry" for the Holy Ghost when the Bible said it was a gift. I always questioned. Even with some school teachers, if I questioned them, I would be reprimanded, or worst, slapped on the hand with the ruler. Just like a child who has to answer the call from within to walk, I had to question. I guess my son got it honest. I chuckle about it now. God does have a sense of humor.
As I did with my little sister, I have to invite others to seek something greater. I just have to. I can't shut my mouth any more than I could when I was a kid. No number of backhands, whippings, punishments or shaming can turn it off. I don't bully folks anymore, I'm happy to say. I just share and allow the outcome to take it's own form or journey with those I am talking with.
I also have to perform. There is something in it that gives me such satisfaction. Just yesterday, I sang with a group of brilliant musicians and singers at a friend's wedding. I got such a buzz from it. It's another way that I express what's in my heart. It's another way I connect with Something Greater. I sing about what is meaningful to me. I enjoy the art of it, the delivery of it, the swell inside and that familiar flow I learned to connect with at an early age. It feels disinhibiting. My soul dances. Like the little girl who use to dance around the living room while singing "I love the Lord" to the 45 record spinning on the pink phonograph player, I feel such freedom. I connect with the spiritual when I sing. I connect with souls of others and share in the release. It's glorious!
Geography doesn't matter. Whether it's on my front porch or in a stadium, I have to express what I've learned. The vehicle doesn't matter. Regardless to whether it's singing, speaking, writing or working, I have to express my Truth. I have to hone the talents, the gifts, the spiritual insights, the knowledge, the experience in open and empowering ways. My soul dances when I do.
Maybe against this backdrop, it is not surprising that when I took the test of what I am born to do, it came up "knowledge." It suggested that I work in research and development. Now, nothing inside of me wants to do that. Nevertheless, I have a thirst for knowledge. I have a thirst for the deeper and more profound Truth that holds everything together. I'm fascinated with it. Maybe that's why I'm drawn to Psychology and self help. It's the wisdom for abundant living that came out of my suffering. Maybe that's why life coaching appeals to me: Maybe that's why writing is like breathing for me. I get to share the knowledge and the wisdom in ways that helps others to discover the wealth they have inside of them to reach their goals. I believe that is my greatest gift to this world. It might not be received by everybody, but for those who I was created to serve, it will be a lifeline that will outlive my earthly existence.
Before I close this blog, I want to share this disclaimer. I am not sharing any of this about my childhood and my family to dishonor them. God permitted me to be born to my parents, my family, my community, my church. My experience of my childhood is my experience. My mom and my dad loved us more than anything in this world. I don't doubt that. They raised us as best they could with what they knew and who they were. They were works in progress just as we all are. I have the peace that they meant well and I honor them for being the pillars that God trusted with my development. Even my elder sister was little more than a baby herself when she was pushed into an adult role against her will. It only makes sense she would retaliate just as I did when my mom put me in that role after my sister left for college. My older sister was just 7 years old when I was born and just 9 when my younger sister came on the scene. I only share these things because they are a part of my experience. If my honesty can help a parent to rethink how they raise their children or can help to heal a child who carries around shame or guilt, then it would serve a Higher Purpose. I accept that God allowed it. He could have stopped it but He chose not to. I've forgiven that. I believe it's because He knew He could heal every wound and there was purpose in my afflictions. That is enough for me. And I feel humbly grateful, that God allowed me to go through EVERY SINGLE thing.
Thursday, July 19, 2012
You've Never Lost Your Life Purpose
This morning I fed my spirit with a full episode of Oprah's interview with Caroline Myss where they discuss her new book, Anatomy of the Spirit. According to Caroline, "People suffer when they pursue a life or chase a dream that doesn't belong to them." She explains that people get fixated on something and feel they have to have it. If someone else's life does not belong to you, however, you are pursuing a life that wasn't meant for you.
"How do you know what is the life or the path that is meant for you?," Oprah asks.
"If you have life, you have purpose," Caroline replies. She goes on to say that if you have one atom, you are as purposeful as the planet. It cannot be otherwise. You can't have one without the whole. You can't take one atom out and say it is separate frin the whole. In the same way, I can't take you out and say you're separate from the whole.
Two things she encourages us to understand:
First, you've never lost your life purpose. You may have taken a wrong turn or ended up in unfamiliar territory. How do you know? Your internal homing device tells you. That part of you that knows when something feels right and knows when something feels all kinds of wrong. If you feel ill-at-ease. if you feel unhappy, if something doesn't fit anymore or where you are is no longer fulfilling, that's your signal that it's time to steer in a new direction. Just as it is in a relationship, you must remember this: if you have to betray yourself in order to remain in it, you know you've gone off course.
The Bible says it this way. We're "led away by our own lust." Modern terminology doesn't call it lust; it calls it ego. A false image founded on fear, doubt and misinformation about what makes you valuable or successful. That'll get you off course every time. It Edges God Out. If we're lucky or, should I say, paying attention, wisdom comes with experience. Some argue it comes with age. I beg to differ. I think it's the repetition of going off course and finding your way home that helps us grow.
Secondly, she says, "Have no judgments about your life. No expectations (in the sense that certain things shouldn't have happened to you that happen to ordinary people). We've all gone through things that made us say, "I can't believe this happened to me" or "I can't believe he/she did that to me." Somehow we think we're special. Stuff like betrayal, divorce, disease and trauma happens to other people. Certainly not us. When you feel that something happened in your life that shouldn't have and you haven't gotten over it or you're fixated on something that didn't belong to you in the first place or you refused to let go of a rage and should have, Caroline believes these are contributors to our desensitization from purpose. Fear, intimidation, unforgiveness feeds our denial and we spiral out of control.
Lastly, give up the need to know what happens tomorrow. Be fully present and appreciate all that is in your life right now." Even the bad stuff. Martha Beck wrote an article about loss and saying goodbye. In her 5 ways to come to terms with change, #2 says, "Focus on a present happiness." Then she says, "Each source of joy has a 'family tree' of progenitor events that get more plentiful the further back you look (just as you have two parents, four grandparents, eight great-grandparents, and so on). Keep tracing the chain of events that led to your greatest current happiness until you run across one that seemed painful or ugly when it happened." In essence, what she is saying is that most times, the greatest joys we have experienced have vicariously come from great pain.
Read more: http://www.oprah.com/spirit/Dealing-with-Loss-How-to-Say-Goodbye-Letting-Go-Martha-Beck/2#ixzz218VYPjp8
Oprah says, "Life speaks first in whispers, then in shouts and then a brick up side your head." That's good news! Your homing system is relentless. Know this, it will persist in sending stronger and stronger signals until you get it. Your mom, dad, or best friend may have been telling you for years that you need to do something with your life, leave that man alone, make a change but real change is not gonna happen unless or until our internal homing device signals us. As I think about it, only a master mind could have prewired us in such a way. The same way that a child knows it's time to walk, we know when it's time to make a change. My God, that's amazing!!! Dr. Dyer calls it the shift.
I've been so concerned about shifting from a life of survival to a life of purpose. I believe God sent Caroline Myss to tell me, "you've never lost your life purpose." Now, that's some good, GOOD news for me. Along with increasing peace and understanding, it's letting me know that I'm back on track!
"How do you know what is the life or the path that is meant for you?," Oprah asks.
"If you have life, you have purpose," Caroline replies. She goes on to say that if you have one atom, you are as purposeful as the planet. It cannot be otherwise. You can't have one without the whole. You can't take one atom out and say it is separate frin the whole. In the same way, I can't take you out and say you're separate from the whole.
Two things she encourages us to understand:
First, you've never lost your life purpose. You may have taken a wrong turn or ended up in unfamiliar territory. How do you know? Your internal homing device tells you. That part of you that knows when something feels right and knows when something feels all kinds of wrong. If you feel ill-at-ease. if you feel unhappy, if something doesn't fit anymore or where you are is no longer fulfilling, that's your signal that it's time to steer in a new direction. Just as it is in a relationship, you must remember this: if you have to betray yourself in order to remain in it, you know you've gone off course.
The Bible says it this way. We're "led away by our own lust." Modern terminology doesn't call it lust; it calls it ego. A false image founded on fear, doubt and misinformation about what makes you valuable or successful. That'll get you off course every time. It Edges God Out. If we're lucky or, should I say, paying attention, wisdom comes with experience. Some argue it comes with age. I beg to differ. I think it's the repetition of going off course and finding your way home that helps us grow.
Secondly, she says, "Have no judgments about your life. No expectations (in the sense that certain things shouldn't have happened to you that happen to ordinary people). We've all gone through things that made us say, "I can't believe this happened to me" or "I can't believe he/she did that to me." Somehow we think we're special. Stuff like betrayal, divorce, disease and trauma happens to other people. Certainly not us. When you feel that something happened in your life that shouldn't have and you haven't gotten over it or you're fixated on something that didn't belong to you in the first place or you refused to let go of a rage and should have, Caroline believes these are contributors to our desensitization from purpose. Fear, intimidation, unforgiveness feeds our denial and we spiral out of control.
Lastly, give up the need to know what happens tomorrow. Be fully present and appreciate all that is in your life right now." Even the bad stuff. Martha Beck wrote an article about loss and saying goodbye. In her 5 ways to come to terms with change, #2 says, "Focus on a present happiness." Then she says, "Each source of joy has a 'family tree' of progenitor events that get more plentiful the further back you look (just as you have two parents, four grandparents, eight great-grandparents, and so on). Keep tracing the chain of events that led to your greatest current happiness until you run across one that seemed painful or ugly when it happened." In essence, what she is saying is that most times, the greatest joys we have experienced have vicariously come from great pain.
Read more: http://www.oprah.com/spirit/Dealing-with-Loss-How-to-Say-Goodbye-Letting-Go-Martha-Beck/2#ixzz218VYPjp8
Oprah says, "Life speaks first in whispers, then in shouts and then a brick up side your head." That's good news! Your homing system is relentless. Know this, it will persist in sending stronger and stronger signals until you get it. Your mom, dad, or best friend may have been telling you for years that you need to do something with your life, leave that man alone, make a change but real change is not gonna happen unless or until our internal homing device signals us. As I think about it, only a master mind could have prewired us in such a way. The same way that a child knows it's time to walk, we know when it's time to make a change. My God, that's amazing!!! Dr. Dyer calls it the shift.
I've been so concerned about shifting from a life of survival to a life of purpose. I believe God sent Caroline Myss to tell me, "you've never lost your life purpose." Now, that's some good, GOOD news for me. Along with increasing peace and understanding, it's letting me know that I'm back on track!
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