Moving

           I was cleaning, condensing, and preparing for a move. I’d been in my home with my three children for 10 years. In the last three years my boyfriend had joined the mix and his 21 year old son stayed for short stints here and there. Tommy was currently staying.

            I was moving into a girlfriend’s open basement. I had room for a few of my favorite things (actually, quite a few) but no room for fluff. Reducing to half my household content was the goal.

I had a staging area in the garage. As the closets got cleaned and cleared, every item was placed into boxes and piles: trash, goodwill/arc, Tommy’s pile, Jeff’s (my ex) pile, kid piles (Kaiti, Kyle, Justin), long-term storage, and immediate access pile.

            Tommy had been bouncing back and forth between Colorado Springs, Monument, Denver, and Fort Collins. He traveled light and most of his things he’d left in storage—in my garage. His pile was growing. He was looking forward to a steady home-base in the Springs and was collecting his things when I showed up to help him sort.

            I was lamenting on how easy it was for him to simply grab a few items and go. If only I were so unencumbered! I was sorting through ten years of memorabilia.

            As Tommy was deciding what to take with him, I requested “If you don’t want to take it, then please don’t leave it,” not wanting to move one more item than necessary. He felt the same. Tommy took time to choose what he needed for his new place, sorted through items no longer needed and cleaned out as well.

           

           We should all be required to clean up and out every ten years or so. Efficiency experts will say “what you own owns you,” and if you want to simplify your life, cleaning up and moving out is freeing.  We all need to take responsibility for our junk: use it or get rid of it.

          

          And no one gets to leave their junk behind!

Seven Habits of Highly Effective Women  

   The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People is an audio series by Stephen Covey I first heard when I was 24—some 20 (eh-hum) years ago. I bought it (literally, spending $70 on the cassette-tape series)—hook, line, and sinker!

  

   I had a quick refresher course this week as I visited my girlfriends from National Seminars, Lisa Ann Landry and Jan Harrison, as they entertained and educated 50-some participants at a Leadership Conference in Denver.

  

   It was early in the morning session when Lisa Ann brought up The Seven Habits and I had a blinding flash of the obvious. I had been duped! It explained SO much.

  

   I can still recite my favorite Habits:

     Habit #7  Sharpen the Saw

        It makes sense it’s the last habit. True to Covey’s prediction, I’ve found people who continue learning—sharpening the saw—are the ones that are better adjusted and better able to cope with change. I know it’s how I cope with change. When what I know to be true is not working, I’ll turn to any source, any person, any perspective that helps me define, clarify, and control my thoughts.

     Habit #1  Be Proactive

        “If it’s going to be, it’s up to me.” “You go, Girl.” And my personal favorite from my Tennessee friend, Rob, “Go get yourself some.” In short, you have to get off your tush and push. Real go-getters make something happen, they manipulate, and connive, and force life to bend to their definition of success.

   And the Habit that brainwashed me into thinking that I needed to know “the end” before I could even get started?

    

     Habit #2 Begin with the End in Mind

        As I posted in my last blog, No End in Sight, I have no idea what “endings” are in store for me now. I’m dealing with all new beginnings—new work direction, new home, new relationship parameters. There’s been emotional anguish in those transitions—partly because Stephen Covey taught me to Begin with the End in Mind. Thinking back, I wonder how many times I put off starting a project, a story, a sentence because I had no idea how it was going to end? How many times did I fail to begin because I didn’t know where I’d end up?

  

   Stephen Covey clarifies his second habit by suggesting each of us develop a Personal Mission Statement that focuses on what we want to be and do. It’s a success plan that reaffirms who you are and your ability to lead and create your own life and destiny. But what happens when you don’t know what you want?

  

   My only mission right now is to: relax, breath, and consider. Today I’m adding: enjoy, believe, and create, but I have no idea what I’m creating. For now, just knowing I don’t have to begin with the end in mind, that I can begin in the middle, that I can write nothing but beginnings is liberating and inspiring.

  

   My revised version of Covey’s #2 Habit?

        Just Begin!

No End In Sight     I’m having a hard time getting to the end–the end of a sentence, a thought, the situation, the reality. I guess it’s because there really are no “ends” in my life right now. I’m working with beginnings.

     I was discharged from my job in August—an ending for sure. But it opened up an opportunity to do something else; exactly what is being determined. I’m checking Monster, Craigs List, Linked-in, and Facebook daily. Can’t say what I’ll be doing a year from now, but writing feels good in the interim.

      I lost my house the end of October—another big ending. I said goodbye to my home of 10 years, made arrangements for my teen boys to stay part-time with me and part-time with their dad, sent my boyfriend out to find a full-time job and moved in with a girlfriend.

     I’d love to finish the story, but I can’t even get to the end of the paragraph. I don’t know what’s coming next. It’s that simple. I can start a sentence but I’m not sure how to finish it. And I’m not forcing myself to! I’ve given myself permission to start chapters, paragraphs, sentences without the pressure of finishing. How freeing! There’s no pressure to draw any conclusions, determine any next big steps, or finish anything. Not even this darned blog if I don’t feel like it!

     Today is for starting. No ends in sight. Just beginnings.

Hand-Up     I heard the cry outside my bedroom window this morning about 8. I knew it was a child and they needed help. I ran out the front door and saw the little, blonde-haired girl lying on her tummy crying. She’d tripped and fallen on the concrete walk and her hair was in her eyes. She’d fallen, but she hadn’t gotten up.

     I called out and cooed over her, “oh Baby, are you all right? Are you okay?” I tried to comfort her as I picked her up. She was tiny, a kindergartener, I’d bet. I set her on her feet and crouched down low beside her to assess the damage: two slightly skinned palms and one slightly scraped knee. No blood. We gave the knee a rub and gave our hands a shake.

     She’d stopped crying and I asked her name. Jade. Was she on the way to school? A nod and an uh-huh. Did she need to go home to see her Mom? No. She was with her sister and friend (who stood watching, with or without concern, I couldn’t tell).

     What did I say? I know what I wished I’d said. I wish my “Mother Mary” had kicked in and I’d fussed over her a little more: dried her tears with my sleeve, kissed her little palms and little knee, given her a big hug.

     I wish I’d told her she was like a super ball and had great bounce-back ability. That she’d grow up to be a hell-of-a bouncer. Or that she was like Tigger to have a “bouncy-trouncy” day.

     I wish I’d shared Clarrisa Pinkola Estes with her: “Refuse to fall down. If you cannot reuse to fall down, refuse to stay down, lift your heart toward heaven like a hungry beggar, ask that it be filled and it will be filled. You may be pushed down. You may be kept from rising, but no one an keep you from lifting your heart toward heaven—only you. It is in the middle of misery that so much becomes clear. The one who says nothing good came of this is not yet listening.”

     I wish I’d gone Zen on her 6 yr old ass! “Fall down 7 times, get up 8.”

     But I didn’t.

     Instead, I calmly said, “It hurts to fall sometimes, doesn’t it.” Jade answered with a nod and another uh-huh. “Just get up and keep going, that’s all you have to do.” That’s what I told her. Life’s most basic lesson during a fall-flat-on-your-face moment; a skin your knee moment. Just get up and keep going. I’m sure if her Mom had been there, she would have told her the same.

     “The day gets better from here,” I told her as I sent her off with her sister and friend. It felt good to parent someone else’s kid. If something happens to one of my three kids one day, I hope there will be another Mom there to help.

    We all need an occasional hand-up. And tears are allowed! I know it’s my Sagitarius side, but just get up and keep going.

Minnie “Boom Boom” Mahoony     I do a lot of different things: I write, I speak, I train. I design websites, brochures, and other print pieces. I organize events and promotions. I keep a home, am raising three teenagers, and lending my time and voice to the pro-medical marijuana movement. My folks’ generation referred to this as “Jack of All Trades.” It was used to describe a person who could do many things at once, but implies Jack (or Jill) does none of them well. And… I guess that makes Jack about average.

     The average Jack (or Jill) doesn’t have the luxury of being a Master these days. The average Jack (or Jill) can’t get by with doing only one thing well. He has to do them ALL well, and not just well, but exceptionally well. I’ve been conditioned to believe if you’re exceptional at what you do, you are to be valued. It pays to be an expert: the more you know about a specific topic, the higher your value—and your paycheck! But I’m finding that’s not as true these days. Employees are assigned a multitude of tasks. A small business owner has to manage all areas of the business–product, service, customers, finances, taxes, industry regulations, etc… One key to success in today’s market is to do as many things possible as well as you can possibly can.

     There’s no manual or on-line help forum for what’s happening now–unless you count the one being created daily by people living it. (Think Google and Wiki.) And that proves my point percisely. You must know many things, must be good at many things but you can’t wait until you “know it all” to move forward.  I’m learning as I go but I don’t have time to get a Masters or to spend years “mastering” a topic, to learn how to juggle like Minnie “Boom Boom” Mahoony (pictured here). We become Masters by doing–it’s time to dive right in. My folks’ generation call it “Baptism by fire.” Learn the task as you do the task. I call it a typical day in the life of Jack and Jill of all trades.

    

Bouncing Ball   I’ve been on a free-fall. Just read the last few posts. Nothing cheery to write home about, no silver linings. The harder I fought it, the more stressed I became. I kept searching for a way to MAKE it end, and finally it has.  

   I’m moving. Letting go of my home of the last 10 years to move in with a girl friend so I can financially make ends meet. I can no longer do it alone. That decision for me, was hitting bottom. I love my space, a small condo near a mountain lake. This is where I’ve raised my family. There’s sadness is leaving.

   But, and it’s BIG! Letting go of $1200 in rent and utilities will allow me to live again. Yes, it’s on unemployment, but it is a little help until I find a better paying job or one of my business endeavors pays-off. It’s breathing room and a sigh of relief. I’ve been carrying this money monster for so long!! 

   “The farther you fall, the higher you bounce,” is what Million-Dollar Mary Kay National Sales Director Monique Todd used to tell me. I know it’s true because the momentum has already shifted. I’m looking forward for the first time in months. Looking forward to the first snow when I’ll be tucked into my new space, surrounded by a lot of my favorite things. (She’s got the space! What a blessing!) Looking forward to affording gas and lunch out with friends as I work my businesses and network for a job. Looking forward to having a little money to buy boots and jackets for the kids. Looking forward, that’s the key.

   I predict this buoyant excitement will last awhile; I’ve been falling for awhile. But, if the laws of physics hold true, then a bounce equal to the fall is happening now! And it’s just getting started! Goodbye fear, regret, and worry. Greetings courage, hope, enthusiasm, and spunk!  Time to enjoy the bounce… bounce… bounce… bounce.…

Got Your Backoxygen-mask.bmpoxygen-mask.bmpGot Your BackGot Your Back     Anyone who’s traveled by air knows the Oxygen Mask safety presentation: put the mask on yourself before you assist the person beside you. Focus on your own survival first. That seems logical. You can’t help others if you’re dead—hence, take care of #1.

     What if we were taught to put the oxygen mask on the person beside us first? What if, in the final moments, instead of focusing on yourself, you help the person next to you? Your final thoughts would be of concern for others, your final actions acts of compassion, and you’d be filled with the spirit of giving.

     What if you could count on that person sitting next to you, to save you? How freely would you travel knowing you could count on the kindness of strangers to see you safely through. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to know that the person sitting next to you—whether you know them or not—has your back. What if, from birth, we’d been taught this principle? Many talk it, “do unto others as you’d have them do unto you,” but society as a whole is falling short. We’re not taking care of each other; we’re a nation of people looking out for #1.

     I’m an Iowa farm girl. We had dairy cows and hogs; we raised corn and soybeans; grew alfalfa for hay and oats for straw. Our farm was self-sufficient and I’ve been taught to be self-sufficient. I’ve been taught it’s irresponsible not to take care of myself; it’s my job to look out for #1—so ultimately I can look out and take care of the people next to me. The problem is, I’m not able to do it alone and make ends meet, just me, looking out for #1. The pressure is overwhelming.

     There’s a screamer band out there with a hit, and let me paraphrase because a google lyrics search didn’t reveal the artist and song, “How can I save you when I can’t even save myself?” If I don’t buy into the oxygen mask theory, I don’t have to worry about saving myself, the people here next to me will do that. Then I could focus on what’s truly important-helping others.

crowdofpeople.jpg     Actually, I got an eye-full. It’d been a hell-of-a-night, followed by a hell-of-a-morning. I’d spent the night worrying—and that exhausts the living crap out of you. (Read Lost My Give-a-Shit if you’d like details.) I’d been mining my heart; fretting it, softening it, doubting it, preparing it to receive a greater gift: the gift of Understanding.

     I was driving north on I-25, on my way to pick-up my best friend, Kook, and her daughter, Alex, from the airport. They were jetting in from Milan; they’d spent the last two weeks in Italy. It was a typical Rocky Mountain Sunset—spectacular. Oranges and pinks blended in to gray blues and purples. The clouds were stirrin’ up an Earth-Meets-Sky raspberry/grape smoothie.

     The ride home was a swirl of conversation, a mix of stories from all of us. As they shared tales of drinking Italian roasted coffee from silver cups on a rose adorned and rose-petal covered patio, on a balcony overlooking the sea, I shared my excitement for the social networking seminar I’d attended, books I’d read on Facebook, Linked-in, and Twitter, updates to my websites, and the blog article I’d posted.

     Kook talked of the beauty of the people, and I bemoaned I had no beautiful people to work with—and then I understood! I want beautiful people, with passionate businesses that I can believe in and promote. I want to blog and tweet and book my face off. I want to sit on my tush and earn a living by writing for others—telling their story and engaging in a dialog with their customers. I don’t need a ton of clients. I need two or three with companies or causes I support.

     It seams so simple, now that “I got it.” Focus on the beautiful people! There’s no time for doubt. No time to worry. Only time to focus on others. What a glorious thought.

i-dont-care1.jpgi-dont-care.jpgi-dont-care.jpg   If you find it, let me know. I had it when I went to bed last night, had it when I woke up at 1:30 a.m. If I was a detective, I’d pinpoint the crime—if indeed there is one—sometime between the hours of 2:00 and 3:30 a.m. I think I had it when I did dishes, that would be around 2 a.m. I like doing dishes; I always have. It’s my “go to” activity when I don’t know where to start or what to do next. I do them first thing in the morning as a way to clear my head and set the compass for the day and I do them in the middle of the night when I can’t sleep. Maybe my “give-a-shit” drained away in the dish water.

     I do know, as I returned to bed and lay there in an anxiety-ridden heap of useless flesh, that the only way through this personal crisis is to write. But I’ve been postponing posting (ha, isn’t that an interesting play on words) because I was taught “if you can’t say anything nice…” you know the adage. Well, I’ve got nothing good to say. I’m in a fucking dark hole. Have been for years (not just months—years) and the harder I work the deeper the hole gets. Stop digging, some people say. Work smarter, not harder; run and pray; believe; keep-on-keepin’-on. Insert your own F’ed-up positive-thinking bullshit right here. And let me tell you, I’ve tried them all; I’ve taught them all. I’m not new to The Secret. Brian Tracy taught me the underlying principles in The Secret in his audio program, The Psychology of Achievement when I was 24 years old. I believed it so much, I’ve lived my life doing affirmations, and striving to turn every negative statement and situation I encounter to a positive experience. It’s all bullshit. And I don’t care who’s reading this or what your perspective is, it’s not working for me. Life is not working for me. And I don’t give a shit who knows it. That’s the “give-a-shit” that went missing around 3:00 last night.

     “Fake it til you make it.” A statement I learned in Mary Kay as I struggled to build my team and become a Sales Director—a positive affirmation in action if I ever heard one. My ex-husband, who tends to be a realist, used to tell me I was just lying to myself. Well, I’m done lying to myself and others.

     No, I’m not fine. Life is a shit sandwich and I’m the creamy middle. There’s no one to help, no one I can count on. And I’m so damned exhausted from trying so hard, I no longer care who knows it. To quote my favorite band, “I don’t want to fake it anymore.” (Widespread Panic, Imitation Leather Shoes)

     Every day is a struggle. I see no reprieve from this stressful financial situation and no joy on the horizon. I’m unemployed and the first unemployment check won’t be here for 6-8 weeks. I’m in need of capital so I can start my own business (because “when the going gets tough, the tough get going” and make their own success—isn’t that the capitalistic bullshit we’ve all been taught?). I’ve been going backwards financially since May of 09 and the credit cards are maxed. Rent is due in two weeks and I’ve already tapped the folks and best friend for cash. I need to move out of my apartment but have no place to go or no money to work with. I’m down to my last few dollars and hope hasn’t been in my vocabulary for…ever (unless you count that tequila buzz I had two weeks ago—which turned out to be an alcohol-induced illusion.)

     Do I give-a-shit what you think of this blog post? Or my situation? Or my character? Nope. I’ve lost it. If you find it, keep it.

cat_getting_out_cover_lg.gifThe smoke is still clearing from the Cannabis Crown in Aspen but already we can declair this year’s festival a hit. And a hit of the best kynd.

Festival promoters, Pia and Bart, overcame many challenges and threw together a fete of great signifigance as more than 3000 people descended upon Aspen for the Cannabis Crown April 17 and 18. The energy and enthusiasm of the crowd was palpable. Entrepeneurs were in full force with businesses that included: growers, dispensaries, gourmet “medibles,” t-shirts and posters, insurance, electronic banking systems, security companies and more.

People were curious. Patients with cards were allowed to shop while people without cards were invited to fill-out forms to get legal. Attendees stopped by each booth and spent time chatting with the vendors. I found myself caught up in the optimism and hope that surges when the needs of people are addressed by a new, emerging marketplace.

Clearly regulation is coming and there’s risk in entering a new venture when laws are still being defined. But with the recession hitting many so hard, there is more than just a mild interest in the medical marijuana business as a legitimate way to serve the needs of the ill while making a living. Medical Marijuana? This cat is out of the baggie!