I’ve been struggling with finding my niche, branding myself, marketing, and everything else that a business plan would include. Apparently, my right-brained way of receiving information was not playing well with my left-brained way of wanting it all to fit in neat boxes. I’ve been having a logic vs. intuition battle of wills for several years, and no one was winning. Of course, that all got resolved last week.

One of the first messages I received in the can’t-do-it-wrong space was, “Meditate more. Hurry Less. All of life is already waiting for you.” It felt wonderful, and I have been starting each day with a meditation since I got the message.

Until today.

The Sweetheart spent the night and we went to breakfast together. I had a few chores to do before I went to work (at the J-O-B I’ve resolved to be out of by July 15th, and Spirit keeps reminding me that I’m to be out by my mother’s birthday on June 23rd.) I got home and jumped right into emails, marketing, etc.

All the while, I’m getting nudges to meditate. Do I listen? Of course not! I’m busy! I’m trying to build a business here!

The most important thing I wanted to accomplish today was updating my website.

Naturally, my hosting is not functioning properly, and the company in charge of my hosting is telling me there’s no problem. I’ve been through this with them before. It always turns out to be something on their end.

Maybe, just maybe, this one time it isn’t.

Maybe, just maybe, I’ll listen to the Universe and go meditate. After all, the whole, wide, wonderful Universe may know something I don’t.

Besides, if I’m meditating on the good I’m bringing into my life, I won’t be focusing on the frustration of the moment. Win-Win. It works for me.

I’ve learned when all else fails, Meditate.

I’ve also learned that all else doesn’t fail when I Meditate.

Just another Win-Win brought to you courtesy of Divine Wisdom.

p.s. If you’re reading this, the Meditation worked.

Five years after my divorce, I had rebuilt my life from a two-room rented office and a small rental house to owning my office, the house next door, and a five acre retirement property. I had everything in place to purchase a new rental property each year, and be able to retire on residual income within ten years.

I thought that I was experiencing incredible abundance. The Universe obviously had different ideas on the topic for me to experience.

Within eighteen months, I began a mysterious, disabling pain that led to the loss of all financial gains, and eventually to bankruptcy.

It was in that process that I began to learn another form of abundance.

The first lesson I remember was one bright afternoon while I was feeling incredibly sorry for myself. I was borrowing a friend’s house, with barely enough money to keep food on the table and nowhere near enough to contribute to utilities. As I sat in the dining area, looking out over the lake, I was wallowing in my misery, begging for a miracle from Spirit, trying to understand what I had done so wrong to deserve this.

My miracle came in the form of gentle awakening to awareness. Thankfully, Spirit is very gentle with me when I overlook the obvious.

“Look around you,” the message was spoken into my own spirit, “look at everything you have been given to enjoy.”

It was true. As the scales of self-pity fell away from my eyes, I began to appreciate that I was living blissfully alone in a 3 bedroom, 3 bath lakefront home on over an acre of land, and it wasn’t costing me a penny.

I was awestruck.

In that moment, I had the beautiful understanding that I had not ‘worked for’ or ‘earned’ any of this. My labor had not been required. All that was required was my willingness to appreciate and flow with the opportunities I was being given.

My belief that I had to ‘work hard to get ahead’ didn’t go easily. I kept trying to work my way out of the financial situation I was in, only to get knocked back into the same situation each time. It seemed that the harder I worked, the more I tried to play by societal rules, the farther behind I got.

Gradually, I began to understand. It is not ‘work’ that makes success or abundance, it is being in the flow with Spirit (in whatever form that means for each of us.)

So, I began to flow.

Every time I remembered, I checked in with Spirit to see what was next in the flow for me.

I flowed out of my friend’s loaner house and into my then-boyfriend’s condo.

‘Work’ would not open up for me, though I was well-qualified and interviewed well, so I flowed with allowing myself to be provided for by someone else. My ego wasn’t happy with that one, so that lesson took longer than necessary.

When I finally grasped that lesson in receiving, I got five job offers out of four applications I submitted.

That relationship ran its course and I flowed out of that condo and into a Divinely supplied sublet for a few months.

From there, I flowed into a rented condo, and a few more surprises.

I had fallen back in to ‘working’ my way to freedom. Another lesson, and I flowed into two surgeries in two days.

As I found myself forced to stay out of ‘work’ for seven weeks, I marveled at the abundance in my life.

I had plenty of everything. My friends, my Sweetheart, his mom, and my son made themselves available to help me with my physical needs. Having their help represented enormous emotional, mental, and spiritual abundance as well. There was plenty of food in the house, and I had plenty of funds in the bank to sustain me for the duration of my time off. That was huge abundance in itself, as I had no disability insurance. In addition, the surgeries were completed on the last three days my health insurance was in effect.

Today, I am again awestruck with the wonderful ‘impossibility’ of it all.

I work a part-time job, about 15 hours per week, to cover my basic living expenses. Other than that, my time is spent entirely on my passions. I get to coach, paint, write, meditate, play with my Sweetheart, and otherwise enjoy life. I really don’t know very many people who enjoy that kind of abundance.

Last week I got to go out on the ocean in a boat that isn’t mine, and it didn’t cost me a thing.

Yesterday I got to lounge around a secluded, private pool and enjoy the beautiful Florida weather all by myself. Again, no cost.

Tonight, I get to go to a performance of Madama Butterfly at the Bob Carr Performing Arts Center in Orlando. For free. Free parking, free admission, free everything.

The best part? I didn’t have to work for it.

I simply let it all flow to me.

I am basking in deep appreciation of all that is available in my life.

That is my new understanding of abundance.

What is abundance for you?

As I visited, I noticed that he was tired, yet his cantankerous humor was on full display. She was fully supportive and present, her love for him very evident.

We enjoyed each others’ company for a time. I excused myself when the nurses came to tend to him. She offered to accompany me to the elevator.

With a few minutes alone, I checked in on how she was doing. Tears welled in her eyes. He only had twenty percent heart function before this event. The results were not back from all of the tests.

They have been married for 56 years. His first cardiac event was sixteen years before. She expressed her hope that they would get another sixteen years out of the new stents.

Moments like these bring back the fear of the searing pain of loss that has seemed inherent to loving.

My father passed away when I was twelve years old. Then the parrot my father gifted me died. Not long after, my only living grandfather died. It seemed to me that everything I loved died.

I convinced myself that they died because I loved them. It was a coping mechanism, a way of gaining control over loving and losing. Fear of loss crippled my ability to love.

Of course, I wasn’t consciously aware of this for many years.

I worked through it in counseling, but times like yesterday reveal the work as incomplete.

I talked about my day with The Sweetheart over supper. He is a wise, gentle, compassionate soul.

I told him that I have been afraid to fully invest myself in loving because the pain of loss is so severe.

He offered his own perspective, “I feel it is better to get to the end, knowing I loved fully and was fully loved, than to get to the end without that experience.”

With those words, a piece of my heart fell back into place. Healing can be that easy.

Yes, I would much rather come to the end of my life, or my love’s life if he must go first, knowing we were fully invested, fully present, fully loved, and completely dedicated.

This is the way to live.

This is the way to die.

Open, loving, present evermore.

How do you want to love, to love, and to pass from this life?

The requested contract was finalized before the week was out, and my colleagues began calling me The Manifesting Diva. Of course, it wasn’t just that incident. They noticed that I manifested my best and highest with unusual frequency. They noticed it a lot more than I did.

It took me a while to realize that I am able to speak things into form. Once I became aware, I was able to see that I’ve been doing this since I was a small child.

When something is that innate, it’s difficult for me to grasp how it works. Equally, when something is that innate, it’s not very easy for me to see why other methods don’t work, even though I know in my sensors that something isn’t right.

Take ‘The Secret’ for example. I tried to watch that movie multiple times, and every time I would get the feeling that something was missing, then I would fall asleep. It was as though my entire system was rejecting what the movie promoted.

This morning, I had a delightful incident of manifestation. As I was leaving the house, I said out loud, “I’m manifesting a ‘day old’ gluten-free box at Rhapsodic Bakery.” Rhapsodic is a vegan bakery in Orlando that sells some of the most blissful gluten-free, dairy-free treats. One cupcake runs $3.50 and is worth every penny. I’m thrifty, though, and if I can get nine of them in a box for $13.00, I’ll relish the flavor and the savings!

Off I went on my morning errands, arriving at the bakery at a little after 10 a.m., which is when I thought they opened. I could see the staff inside, but the door had a big ‘Closed’ sign and another that said they would open at 11.

I was more than a little disappointed, as they rarely have gluten-free day-olds, and when they do, they get snapped up quickly. I knew I wouldn’t get back before noon, and chances were incredibly slim that what I wanted would be there.

Off I went, completed my errands, and checked back in with Source. All indicators said that my treats were there if I wanted them, or I could pass.

Frankly, I still question Source. I still look for confirmations, and I still doubt some of the messages I get. I still want proof that I’m “hearing” correctly, so I drove the mile to Rhapsodic.

I could see from the doorway that there was only one day-old box left. As I approached the counter, I saw those beautiful letters, “GF” inside the lid! Woo Hoo!

“That’s mine!” I gleefully announced as I pointed to the box.

The young lady behind the counter replied, “Well, THAT was easy!”

Her unusual response piqued my curiosity and I asked, “ Isn’t it always?”

She explained that there had been a bit of earlier confusion over that very box.. A customer said she wanted it, but it turned out she really didn’t  she wanted a box that size with something else in it. Whatever the conversation, it had taken a while to sort out.

“It was meant to be yours,” the clerk announced.

“Yes, I know. I manifested it this morning,” was my childlike reply.

As I was savoring the first cupcake, still in the car on my way home, I began to think about HOW I manifested it. After all, that box of goodies did not magically appear on the counter that morning. Those cupcakes were made the day before, and were leftover already when I made my manifestation announcement at home. There really was no magic involved at all. I decided to reverse engineer the morning’s events to figure out what makes manifestation work for me.

First, let me say that I believe manifestation and magic are not the same thing. Magic is more of an alchemic process. Manifestation is a process of Divine Communication. Here’s what I know about this morning’s Divine Communication Manifestation process:

1) The Divine and I both know that I really like sweet bakery treats, and really should not have gluten or dairy.
2) The Divine and I both knew that I was going to be in close proximity to Rhapsodic this morning, where I can acquire yummy treats that are safe for me. I wasn’t thinking about it, but the Divine obviously was.
3) The Divine and I both know that finding a bargain is equally yummy for me.
4) The Divine knew there were leftover cupcakes at Rhapsodic.
5) The Divine communicated those leftover cupcakes at Rhapsodic to me on a subconscious level.
6) I consciously responded to a subconscious stimulus and set a specific intention that I would obtain a box of gluten-free, day-old goodies at Rhapsodic.
7) The Divine reserved the manifested goodies until I arrived.
And that is how manifestation works for me.

For me, the most important Rules of Manifestation are:

1) There is much more that goes on prior to my conscious perception of a desire to manifest than there is after I begin the manifestation process.
2) I manifest in response to Divine Awareness.
3) The Divine always leads the manifestation process, not the other way around. THIS is what was missing from ‘The Secret.’ It may look like I’m leading the manifestation process, but that is only because I am unaware of what is going on behind the scenes.

Remember that office I sold? The man who bought it had wanted it since before my business went under, he just never approached me because he didn’t think I’d sell. The Divine knew all aspects of that scenario, too.

Yes, every manifestation process I have been involved with has been led by the Divine. Thankfully, I have developed enough sensitivity to follow in this magical dance.

I’m sure it’s different for everybody.

For me, it was a completely experiential process. I was attending school part-time back in the late 80’s. One curriculum lasted for eighteen months, during which time I became very close friends with two women who were on the same path.

Of all of my classmates, I resonated most with them. We would often have meals together, study together, and do class projects together. I enjoyed their company, and we often discussed our love lives.

One of the women talked about her lover, Randall, on a very regular basis. The other was in the military and didn’t have a stable love life. I was recently divorced and busy with the dating scene, so we had lots of fodder for conversation, each from different perspectives.

About a month before we were to graduate from the program, both women revealed that they were lesbians. Shocked would be a mild expression for what I felt. After all, I was raised in a particular church environment that labeled many things sin, but homosexuality went beyond that, right into ABOMINATION.

Looking back on it, its easy to see the irony of that. The church leaders (and members) seemed to point to the “abomination” as the “real evil,” which gave them permission to overlook the fact that they were engaging in a vast majority of the other listed sins.

Isn’t human behavior fascinating?

Let’s rewind back to the big reveal.

I was stunned. If they were gay, what did that make me? After all, I had been taught that the only people who were friends with gays were gay themselves. I was pretty sure I wasn’t a lesbian, as I had tried that when I was younger and didn’t like it. It hadn’t rubbed off on me like I was told it would. Neither of them had ever made any advances toward me, so I knew they weren’t trying to “convert” me. As a matter of fact, it had never been an issue until their openness bumped up against my belief system.

Their openness won.

It became painfully obvious that my belief system was based on an entire set of fallacies. These were wonderful women, upstanding citizens, dear souls who were trying to live their lives as peacefully as possible in a society that hated them for no good reason.

Good reason is exactly what prevailed.

I was taught to fear something that I had no experience with. When I finally had experience, I learned there was nothing to fear.

Maybe that’s what makes it dissolve; having the experience of knowing someone as a worthwhile being at the soul level, then allowing that relationship to totally obliterate the learned beliefs.

After all, we are born with eye color, hair color, skin color, but there has never been a baby born with a belief.

Beliefs are learned.

Beliefs are learned from people who are just as flawed as we.

I adopted a new belief back then. People are people, no matter who they fall in love with. As long as both are at an appropriate age of consent, who am I to judge the validity of their relationship, and why would it have any effect on me?

The issue of Marriage Equality goes before the Supreme Court today. I sincerely hope that equality will be recognized, for I have yet to hear a good argument against it.

Tradition is not a reason to continue an unfair practice.

What beliefs are you re-examining today?

After all, it’s all about examining our beliefs, choosing the ones that work, letting go of the ones that no longer serve us, and re-engineering the rest.

I arrived with a list. That was a first.

At the top of my list was to eliminate the “startle” response. He asked me to explain a little about that.

“You know,” I replied, “that thing that makes me jump two feet in the air every time there’s a loud noise. It’s horrible! I don’t mind my friends laughing at me, but it’s actually painful to have my heart beat that hard, and the adrenaline feels like fire in my veins.”

He casually mentioned that’s part of PTSD. He’s never really mentioned any diagnosis before, and hearing it so casually stated was a little like being told I have a huge wart on my forehead that I hoped no one had ever noticed. Slightly uncomfortable to say the least. He’s a dear with a dry sense of humor, though, and made me laugh when he said that I’m allergic to my own stress.

There is a huge amount of truth in that. Not just for me, I believe it’s true for most people.

Stress releases hormones that are toxic to the body when taken in large or prolonged doses. Additionally, stress reduces our ability to rationally process data, so we get caught in reactive mode. Stress makes us do stupid things and causes accidents. For example, have you ever stubbed your toe when you were completely relaxed? Precious few have; stubbed toes are usually the result of rushing to do some ‘important’ thing which becomes not-so-important immediately after impact.

I believe PTSD caused the lymphocytic colitis and other gastrointestinal problems I’ve had. Bleeding ulcers at three years old just isn’t normal.

PTSD probably had a lot to do with my anorexia, too.

My PTSD was not created in combat. Well, not in the Armed Forces. It would not be an exaggeration to say that my home was a combat zone before I arrived, and did not get better from there.

My PTSD was created by years of emotional, mental, spiritual, and physical abuse, with a few bouts of sexual abuse thrown in for good measure.

I don’t mean to sound flip. I’ve actually come to a point of acceptance that allows me to look at the experiences of my childhood as something that I planned while in spirit form.

That viewpoint may or may not be fact, but it has proven to be a tremendously effective coping mechanism. It’s much more peaceful and healing than being resentful about the experiences and the people involved.

Having overcome many of the effects of PTSD, I can now help others in their journey.

We survived. We are still breathing, and that is proof enough that we survived.

Now it is time to THRIVE!

PTSD is not for wussies. The reactions (read RE-ACTION… acting again) can be as painful for those who love us as they are for us. It’s time to thrive, to grow past the reactions, deactivate the ‘hot buttons,’ tune back in to our internal guidance system, and join the party that life was meant to be.

I’d love to know what your favorite deactivation technique is. If you don’t have one, I’d be honored to facilitate your discovery process!

photo courtesy: © Chrisharvey | Dreamstime Stock Photos

March 16^th, 1977 – Daddy and I were sitting at the kitchen table. It was just the two of us in the idyllic Ojai Valley of Southern California. I had left my mother and step-father back East almost two years before. It was dark, so I guess it was sometime after 7 o’clock. We had just finished dinner and Daddy was having a bowl of Black Jack Cherry ice cream. He suddenly jumped to his feet, slapped his hand to his forehead, his chest, and again to his forehead, then collapsed back into his chair. It was so incredibly bizarre. I remember being fascinated by how blue his eyes were. Daddy worked in the sun and had a permanent squint, so I had never had the chance to notice that his eyes were the blue of arctic ice.

It would be days before I found out he’d had a massive stroke, massive heart attack, and another massive stroke. The man at the mortuary said that Daddy must have been a very strong man, as any one of those would have instantly killed a normal person.

Daddy, with a little help from me and a lot of help from the paramedics and hospital staff, lived until four minutes after midnight. True to the Irish heritage he stoutly defended, he managed to exit this life on the most Irish day of all, Saint Patrick’s Day.

They never did let me see him after he died. They were afraid I would be traumatized by the bruising to his face and neck. Little did they know the trauma I would inflict on myself by believing it was all a hoax and he would be coming back for me.

It was years before I gave up hope of him returning to rescue me from the chaos that was my life. I was twelve years, one month, and two weeks old when he died. I was a hair past 28 the last time I whipped a U-turn to follow a van driven by a man who looked like Daddy.

I learned to love from him.

Actually, I learned everything I would know about love for a long time from him.

When he was angry, he didn’t shout or hit. He’d go for a walk and think about it, then he would come back and talk. Unless he didn’t like you, then you might get punched. After all, he was Irish. They don’t call them the Fighting Irish for nothing.

Love says what it means, but doesn’t say it mean.

He had some of the biggest hands I’d ever seen, but he was so gentle. He could take apart almost anything and fix it, or he could hold a baby duck, bunny, or goat as it was taking its first breath.

Love can handle anything.

He let me have every animal I asked for, except a cat, as long as I took care of them. I couldn’t have a cat because he had birds, and the birds were there first.

Love is loyal.

He traded his beloved speed boat to get me a pony. His only request was that I be careful. My friends and I used to have the best time running races on our horses. Tony (the pony) was the smallest, but we won a lot of the races. Daddy let me ride all over town without supervision.

Love trusts.

The only spanking Daddy ever gave me was over that pony. He came home one day while I was practicing to be in the circus. Tony was tied to a phone pole, and I was standing on his back, waving to my adoring fans (Daddy in his van.) Apparently, this scared my adoring fan out of his wits. He told me to put the pony away and come in the house, where he proceeded to give me a spanking with a plastic flyswatter over my heavy corduroy pants. I was pretending to cry, pleading for him not to beat me while laughing at how stupid he was. After all, I’d had beatings; he didn’t even know how to give a good spanking. Then he stood me up and I saw the tears streaming down his face.

Love keeps boundaries, even when they hurt the lover more than the loved.

The day of Daddy’s funeral, I kept feeling something on the back of my left arm, just above my elbow. Every time I looked, there was nothing there. To this day, I know that my Daddy is with me. He is my Forever Leprechaun, always looking over me, protecting me, bringing good to me.

Love never ends.

Thanks, Daddy. This one is for you. I miss you. I wish I could have one more day of hugs, to tell you I love you, to see your eyes with the light still in them, to introduce you to my son. He chose to be called Jack, just like you. But you already knew that, didn’t you?

Love knows everything that’s important, and overlooks the rest.

The whole concept started a couple of years ago. I remember that something really strange happened and I was very upset at the time. As the Divine would have it, I heard myself saying, “I’ll laugh about this later.”

The next thought through my mind was wondering why I should wait for the later. If I can find the humor in it, I’ll start laughing now.

It turned out to be a very healing concept for me.

My recent medical episodes are a prime example.

I thought I’d share the email I sent to family & friends shortly after a pair of surgeries:

You may or may not remember that I had a birthday on Sunday.
Getting another year older has been really interesting this time.
You may or may not have heard that I had two surgeries last week.
I told you it was more interesting this time.
The ex cancelled me off his insurance the end of January instead of the end of 2013 like we agreed. It wasn’t like it was costing him anything; I was paying the premiums, but I digress.
I decided to make a couple of quick trips to doctors before the insurance ended. I had a toenail that was bothering me, and I also had a hemorrhoid for the last 30 years, which waited to begin bothering me until last year. Go figure. Apparently hemorrhoids are like volcanoes, dormant for years until they decide to put on a show.
I honestly figured the colorectal surgeon would put a rubber band on the hemorrhoid (a friend had that done & it was quick and easy) and the podiatrist would just trim away the side of that nail & treat the nailbed in the office to keep it from coming back.
Who wrote that thing about “the best laid plans of mice and men?”
Did I mention I had two surgeries?
First off, the colorectal exam was an experience unto itself. I’m really grateful I decided to go to a female doctor. As she began the new patient consult, she informed me that the gynecologists and colorectal surgeons had gotten together, decided the two most uncomfortable and embarrassing positions patients could be put into, then they each took one. She wasn’t kidding, and the exam experience is a tale unto itself.
Long story short, no rubber band for my little friend. Oh, no. Surgical removal was the only way.
On to the podiatrist, who happened to notice that another nail was also ingrowing, right before he began to examine my bunions.
Another long story short, I did mention I’ve had two surgeries in the past week, right?
Thought I’d catch you up on how things are going.
I had surgery to remove the hemorrhoid on Tuesday. I thought that would be the end of a 30 year old pain in the @$$, but it turns out that there’s healing time, too.
Wednesday I had surgery to remove both bunions.
Both of my doctors were aware I was having the surgeries. The podiatrist doesn’t often do bilateral (both feet) bunionectomies, but I’m not just strong-headed, I’m physically strong, too. He figured I could handle it.Both surgeries went well. Twilight sedation is much friendlier on my body than that general anesthesia stuff. All was copasetic Thursday afternoon, and I thought the colorectal surgeon had completely overstated the pain after hemorrhoid surgery. After all, it just felt like a bad flare day to me.
Until I fainted Thursday night. Not to get into too much detail, but that first bowel movement after a hemorrhoidectomy… there’s some pain involved! I gave birth naturally to a baby who weighed over 9 pounds, and I’m not sure which was worse. Apparently that pain, combined with my normal low blood pressure, led me to faint, fall off the toilet, and do a faceplant on the cool tile floor… with my feet in post-op clodhoppers.
Stop laughing. It’s not funny.
Actually, keep laughing. It is funny… now.
Pain through the night (feet, not rear) led me to call the podiatrist on Friday. The Sweetheart’s mother (c’mon, you knew I wouldn’t be available long), sweet sainted woman she is, took me in to see him. He x-rayed the left foot (I landed right on that incision when I fell), and I got to see how pretty my new bones are! YAY! No harm done to feet, and I’m allowed to “play with my toes” to be sure they heal up all flexi-bendi.
Can’t believe my butt’s still sore. One little stitch…
But I’m getting better every day!
My son happened to call right after I regained consciousness Thursday night. He bought a plane ticket for Sunday. Arrived at noon on my birthday! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!!!!
I had one more fainting episode Friday night before he got here. Thankfully, The Sweetheart was here. Friends don’t let friends pass out alone.
Apparently it’s really interesting to watch someone faint. I knew I was going down. He thought I was giving him a hug when I looped my arms around his neck. My eyes never closed and my facial expression never changed. I just slowly slid down the front of him. He caught me, got my walker (YES! I ADMIT I’M OLD NOW! I HAVE A WALKER! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME! Snarky, snarky, snarky!) out from between us, and laid me gently on my back on the floor. I came back around in a small puddle of sweat, exhausted, but none the worse for wear. No fainting episodes since. Both were directly related to the same thing.
Did I mention that bowel movements may be somewhat uncomfortable after a hemorrhoidectomy?
My son is staying with me until after my Monday podiatrist appointment. I should get my stitches out of my feet and get permission to drive again that day. I’m supposed to be mostly off my feet until March 13^th. Apparently, the feet muscles need a little time learning to walk again.
One really nice thing about this is that I’ll have a LOT of time to work on promoting my coaching practice!
Much Love, Light, & Laughter!
Joanna
p.s. If there is one piece of advice I’d give you, it is this: don’t get hemorrhoids!

I’ll save the story of the original exam and that one little stitch for other days. I’m still laughing now!

(image courtesy: http://www.dreamstime.com/blond-girl-8-free-stock-photo-imagefree219105)

Of course, I sat down to write at about nine o’clock this morning. It’s a little after five in the evening and these are the first words I’ve managed to choke out for this blog.

Oh, I’ve written. I wrote a grocery list, notes for my next coaching session, titles for about twenty blog posts I’d like to write, emails, replies to Facebook fans, and a few dozen other things.

Of course, that is how resistance works when it leans toward the passive aggressive side of the spectrum. I can hear its whiny little voice of protest, “But I AM writing!” and the snide little comment after, “just not what you want me to. ::snicker::”

Judging Resistance as wrong is an ingrained reflex. Putting that aside is a learned behavior. Without the acid of judgment, Resistance reveals her origins. She’s a frightened little girl, not wanting to be punished for doing something she’s been told not to do.

You see, I received my Life Coach certification from an organization that is spiritually based, yet focuses on training coaches for the mainstream population.

If you haven’t noticed, I left mainstream a couple decades ago.

Or, maybe you haven’t noticed because Little Miss Resistance has been putting up quite a fight against revealing that fact.

But, with the help of my skittish little companion, I digress.

(Come here, Miss Resistance; let’s show the nice people what we’ve been hiding.)

Ignore the wailing. She has no faith that you’re really one of the nice people. Just give her a few minutes to get to know you, ok? She’s used to being bitten, and she’s more than twice shy.

As I was saying, the coach training I experienced focused on mainstream, therefore there were specific instructions given:

1)  DO NOT tell people that you are going to be helping them find their innate gifts and talents, those wonderful traits that they came to share with the world.
2)  DO NOT tell people that you will help them find what inspires them most, what lights their fire, makes them want to get out of bed in the morning, and makes life sweeter than they ever could have imagined.
3)  Most of all, DO NOT tell people that you will be helping them find their Life Purpose, the real reason they are here.

(See, Miss Resistance, we didn’t tell them any of that, we just said that we aren’t supposed to tell.)

Yeah, that worked like a charm. NOT!

Okay, so I’m now dragging Resistance, kicking and screaming. I’m telling you anyway, and she will just have to watch and have the experience that  the Coaching Police will not be coming to take us away, because at this point she has absolutely no faith in me.

Now, she’s reminding me of the first time I told someone that I would take them to their Life Purpose, Innate Gifts and Talents, and Intrinsic Soul Nourishment in the first two hours of coaching. It went something like this:

Start with the look of surprise in her eyes, followed by, “Wait, you can tell me why I’m here, what I’m here to do, and what will help me do it?”

“Actually, no. I can’t tell you those things. I can help you discover them. That’s why it’s called a Discovery Process.”

“Wait. You’re telling me you can tell me my Life Purpose, why I’m here, what I’m here to do, and how to get it done in TWO HOURS?”

“Um, no. But I will help you to find it.”

“Wait!” (theme here?) You can get me to my Life Purpose in TWO HOURS???”

“Well, yes. That is my job.”

I think this is where Little Miss Resistance wets her pants. The look on the woman’s face was somewhere between astonishment and rage.

“I’VE BEEN TRYING TO FIGURE THIS OUT MY WHOLE LIFE AND YOU’RE TELLING ME YOU CAN DO IT IN TWO HOURS??????” (Sorry, it actually sounded bigger than that, but this blog template only comes with a few font sizes.)

“Well… it could take up to three.”

That is actually how the conversation went. She never hired me. Gee, maybe I shouldn’t have told her. Or, maybe she just wanted to wait.

Anyway. The cat is out of the bag, and there’s nothing else for Miss Resistance to do here today. She’s gone to take a nap… curled up with her blankie, her binkie, and a nice bag of ice on her head. Poor thing. I’m sure she’ll find something else to muck about with once this shock has passed. I’ll keep you posted.

Meanwhile, if you’re ready to find your Life Purpose, Innate Gifts and Talents, and Intrinsic Soul Nourishment, please contact me (my info is in the upper right corner of this page.) How much easier would every decision be if you just had one sheet of paper with your Life Purpose, Innate Gifts and Talents, and Intrinsic Soul Nourishment all spelled out? It’ll take about two hours, maybe three. I call it Your Unique Prescription for JOY! And, it’ll be lots of fun.

Gotta run. Sounds like Little Miss Resistance might upchuck.

I don’t remember anybody saying I wasn’t supposed to let you know it could be fun.

Oh! I almost forgot! I’m offering a 50% discount on all Coaching through 3/13/13. It just keeps getting better!

(image credit http://www.dreamstime.com/baby-girl-attitude-free-stock-photography-imagefree194877 )

“BUT, YOU’RE A LIFE COACH!” is a common response to my less-than-stellar moments.

Yes, I am a Life Coach, and a superb one at that. Being a Life Coach does not exempt me from the day-to-day hassles of life. As my Sweetheart pointed out, it does hold me to a higher standard of resolving them.

Which brings me to the point of this post. As a Life Coach I help other people deal with their issues, find the way to their highest passions, uphold their life purpose, explore their deepest meaning, discover their greatest calling, and facilitate other deeply meaningful, freeing experiences. In order to do that, I have to be clear about all of those in my life, in addition to being clear of the day-to-day. That does not happen by magic nor by accident.

In order to be support, I must be clear.

In order to be clear, I must be supported.

It’s not rocket science; it’s just a blinding glimpse of the obvious.

In order to fully support my clients, I have to be clear with my life. That doesn’t mean garbage doesn’t happen, just that I uphold my duty to take it to the curb. Or, as a friend humorously stated, “Everyone comes with baggage; all I ask is that it’s neatly packed.”

I have several layers of support:

I employ a stellar coach

Leah Collery of Tapping In Now is my personal coach. I meet with her via telephone on a weekly basis to work through current issues and create a future I’m excited to move forward into. We also do some very deep meditations to connect with my future self, spiritual guides, and Source to determine what is best for me.

I meet with a counselor on a regular basis

Dr. Alan Keck at the Center for Positive Psychology is my counselor. I meet with him every three weeks to resolve past issues (primarily childhood) and clear any blocks to creating a life I love. We often use tapping (his version is like EFT on steroids!) to clear old, deeply-seated emotional issues. I frequently use the tapping at home to clear physical issues and minor emotional interference.

I have a wonderful Sweetheart

In his book, Love and Survival, Dr. Dean Ornish reveals statistical data regarding the power of a supportive love relationship. My takeaway from my first reading of the book a dozen years ago was my marriage was killing me (I’m divorced over a decade now) because a bad love relationship has the same negative effect on the body as smoking and obesity.

On the other hand, a supportive love relationship has the same effects as stopping smoking and losing weight. YAY! Fun, cuddles, playtime, great conversation and sex, and health benefits, too! It’s a win all the way around!

I have supportive friendships

My friends support and encourage me. I recently experienced how many are willing to be here for me when I’m unable to care for myself after surgeries. We don’t always agree on everything, but we respect each other and support each other in good times and bad. The value of that sense of community cannot be overstated.

I have healed family relationships

In so many ways, this was the biggest part of getting clear for me. I still have family members that I choose not to interact with because they do not respect my boundaries; that is simply good self-care. My relationship with my son is one of the greatest gifts in my life, and that was far from the case for many years. I have made peace with my mother, and have found that I now hold a space of love for her; for me, that counts as nothing short of a miracle, and has been hugely healing.

All of these supports have made it possible for me to support my clients in their life experiences without getting hooked into their situations.

When I am clear, I know that my clients are just as infinitely resourceful as I am; it is easy for me to hold that space of knowing my client is fully capable until they remember, too.

When I am clear, I can trust that their Guidance is getting them exactly where they need to go without advice from me.

When I am clear, my clients find their own clarity much faster; I provide a clear, open space so they can step out of their muck and be clear, too.

When I am clear, I trust that everything is happening exactly as it should be.

When I am clear, I’m a much better coach, friend, partner, writer, lover, mother, daughter, sister, and human.