Since age 10, I have been many things.
I have sold lemonade and painted seashells on my front lawn to tourists walking by.
I have taught toddlers how to adeptly distinguish between red and blue, and count to ten.
I have worked in restaurants: advancing from gutter girl, to dishwasher, to bus girl, to hostess, to waitress, to manager of the front of the house.
I never, ever worked as a bartender. As much as I love a well-crafted cocktail, the concept of simple things like “dry martinis” elude me.
I have sold: puzzles, Ugly Dolls, sneakers, jewelry, and expensive art.
I have written articles, cultivated compelling copy, and love poems, for pay.
I have poured wine and led tours through a vineyard at 3pm daily.
I have owned a hula hoop factory – a tightly run operation of one girl, a ton of tubing + tape, and five seasons of The Wire.
And yet, while I was doing all of these jobs, the majority of my heart knew that someday I would get a real job, a stable job. The kind with that you dressed up for, and climbed in your car to commute to. The kind of job with benefits and paid vacation time. That part of my heart believed that was adults did.
It felt responsible.
But when I was getting my masters in clinical social work, and I was gearing up for that job – I couldn’t wrap my heart around it.
It’s not that the path was bad – I loved being a social worker. I loved working with people. I loved being a therapist. I loved the way that the brain works, how human beings learn to attach to one another, and the ways in which we can positively promote change in the lives of others.
But I was unable to get my heart into it the prospect of looking for a job.
Maybe someday, but today, I’m craving something different.
Over the course of this past summer, I worked nights in a restaurant that I worked in for the four years prior to buy a new site, put a system in place, take a bunch of courses + classes to kick my skills up several notches.
I bought myself many levels of support, because I believe that support is essential when we expand our definition of what is possible for our lives.
In some ways to I needed the time to get myself ready. To mediate over how I wanted my life to look and what I wanted my days to consist of.
To prepare my heart, by providing it space and time to unfurl, to adapt to it’s new and dramatically up-leveled circumstances. To be precise with my intentions as I send them out into the Universe.
I love the specificity of heart-felt and intuition-soaked dreams, written and re-written by hand.
Underneath it all is this: I am dedicated to living my life on my own terms, congruent what feels important + beautiful + imperative.
I want to work with you.
I want to speak at your college, business, coven, conference or after-school community youth program.
I want to hear about the things that you need to help you love yourself, so that I can create them.
Tell me how I can help you.
This the beginning of something magical – I can feel it.