If you’ve been receiving my newsletters for awhile you’ve probably seen me trot out offering after new offering, while admitting in the newsletters that half of the goal of releasing something new is to relinquish control over how something is received.  Simply put, “be okay if it flops.”  I have named this quite a few times.

All of those things were true!  I do try to release control.  But there have been some other truths going on behind the scenes that I didn’t mention.  In the spirit of transparency, I think those mental truths are worth mentioning now.  *blink blink* *deep breath*

See, I’m a teacher and mentor for new practitioners.  And for a long time I’ve harbored secret shame that I’ve had a very cushy rental agreement with my landlord from the very beginning of my practice, where I pay-per-use of the room rather than a flat fee every month.  I pay my landlord some money for each time that I use the room, and no more than that; for example, if I only do 3 sessions one month, my rent for that month is only $45.  

This means not having to make a certain amount of money every month, say, $800 to “make rent” and then hope I make a little after that for myself.  It means not dipping into personal savings to keep my business afloat. It also means I’ve made a profit on every session and class I’ve ever done – which is SO rare.  

Erego, I felt like the equivalent of a trust-fund brat who gets an executive job because his dad owns the company, then turns around and preaches about “hard work” and “meritocracy” and “if I can do it, so can you.”  And graduation was a happy event every year, but inside I felt like I was throwing my new RMTs to the financial wolves.  Reader, the shame ran deep.  

I felt like I owed it to them to provide more (and more, and more) support.  How else could I justify teaching?  How else could I justify the cost of learning with me?  How else could I be worth their time?

So, being interested in Community Care and caring economics like I am, I resolved to rent or buy a small studio space that my local students could sublet back from me.  I named it The Seed Space and even made a logo for it:  

Friend, when I tell you this dream burned inside me, I mean it!  From about January 2021 to *checks watch* I have yearned to have the funds to open a practice space where my students could grow their businesses slowly and sustainably, with a better chance of longevity and success.  

So in January of 2021 I began internally grinding to try to pour extra income into that dream.  Offering after offering, new platform after new platform. But guess what – everything fell kind of flat.  The offerings, the extra hours, it didn’t really pan out like I thought.  Not completely, and I do enjoy doing them, but the “build it and they will come” response I was hoping for has not materialized. 

However, guess what did happen?  I completely burned out in a lot of ways, and got away from my foundational intentions.  Work, for a short time, became more about the tracking the money and less about the love of it.  Creating became a numbers game rather than a pure form of loving expression.  I tried to monetize everything, in the name of community care.

(A quick aside – I’m talking in a big picture way here.  My relationship to my *business* became money-driven, but my relationship with clients never has been.  I am confident that even when I was tracking my profit-and-loss like a hawk, I gave intimate and compassionate care.  Just mentioning this in case you’ve had a session with me in the last few years – trust that I wasn’t, like, salivating and having my eyes turn to dollar signs when you walked in the door!)

In the last few weeks I’ve been meditating and asking Spirit, “why did this fail? Why did that peter out? Why am I not able to create the income needed to open this space for my students?”  And wow, her answers were surprising.

She said, “Your intentions were good but ultimately misguided, my love.  You made yourself overly-responsible for others’ well-being out of shame.  I didn’t place that dream in your heart; shame and people-pleasing did.  Your intentions were sweet, but the reasons behind them were rooted in low vibrations of shame and insecurity.  Nothing sustainable can grow from that soil.  Also, it’s really okay for people to be uncomfortable sometimes – that’s how they grow.  In some ways your students need practice speaking up and seeking out their own opportunities.  Taking away their growth edges because you feel shame about your success robs everyone of learning opportunities.”

Ouch.  Thank you, Spirit.

So for now, The Seed Space will continue to live as a logo in my Canva projects folder and a dream in my heart.  I’m trusting the Universe that if and when the time is right, we’ll collectively be guided to the right place, the right price, the right people.  

However!  The good thing about losing sight of something is finding your way back to it.  It has been really delicious to let go of the Seed Space dream and fall back in love with my work simply for the delight of it.  And I learned that when you let go of control, you get to fall back in love with everything else too!  My husband!  My kids!  My dog!  My yard!  My friends!  Looking through the eyes of surrender makes everything a little sweeter (and honestly, sometimes it feels like the world is a stage 5 dumpster fire right now so I’ll take all the extra and free sweetness I can get!)

Thank you for reading and being on this journey with me, and I hope you are having a good day.