Sucky jobs & pre-existing patterns

One of my students, Maddy, is telling me that she’s waking up at night, panicky, worrying that she’s going to lose her house when they lay her off at work. She doesn’t know when the layoffs will come.

She’s living in a constant state of low-level fear, feeling horribly frustrated and powerless. She’s even applied for another job in the same field that she doesn’t even want, and afraid they’ll reject her.

Last night, another student, Claire, told me that she’s already lost her job and now she’s dreading finding another even as the bills are piling up, since the jobs are always the same low-level, horrible, mind-numbing kind. She’s been on a merry-go-round of them for twenty-five years. Her credit card is stacked up with debt.

Both Claire and Maddy have the same emotional energetic pattern. Let’s pull it out into the sunshine and take a look.

I ask Maddy why she thinks she can’t be happy in a career.

She answers, “My parents always said ‘just get a job. No one likes their job. Everyone just does one. That’s the way it is. Just get through it.’”

“And that’s what you’ve been doing?”

She tearfully nods and chokes out, “Yeah.”

“Do you think I hate my job?” I ask.

“No.”

“Does my husband hate his job as a designer? Do you think my mom hates her job? Did my aunt hate her job teaching English as s second language? Does my cousin hate his job as a chef?”

No, no, no, and no.

“And do you think we have jobs we love because we’re special or smarter or something? In other words, different or better than you?”

“Yes,” she practically whispers.

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You don’t always need a “why” (or, “How to fill your well”)

I’m lying on the floor in a stranger’s house while the house’s owner plants crystals around the room, lights candles, and swishes the air with her arms.

There’re about nine of us lying like packed sardines on yoga mats in her small living room, covered in blankets. We are about to go on a shamanic meditation journey.

I have absolutely no idea what this means or even what we’re going to do next.

When my friend asked me to join her for the event, I said “sure” without thinking, and now here I am.

I’ve been smoked with burning sage, made awkward chitchat, and now we’ve settled down to business.

The leader is powerful gal, and I can tell she’s very comfortable with us as she settles in to guide the group. I decide I’m going to trust her.

Where are we going? I wonder. And, What are we even doing to get there?!

Turns out, we’re practicing a kind of meditation that encompasses rigorous, controlled breathing until we reach a euphoric state.

“Ok,” I think, “maybe I’ll just Flowdream a little while I breathe.”

I mean, it’s what I usually do during savasana (the meditation portion of  yoga class) anyway. It’s my default, go-to, feel-good practice.

And what’s more, I’m good at it, so I get to feel productive and powerful and a tiny bit self-congratulating about my expertise.

Which is probably exactly why as I start the breathing meditation, I feel a booming command: “No Flowdreaming, Summer.”

What the heck?

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Should I get a Tesla? (or “How to spot lack thinking anywhere.”)

Some of you read about my recent car fire/spontaneous combustion.

We’re driving a rental now and looking around for a model we want.

I decided that I have to at least test drive a Tesla.

And that’s what got me thinking about my ceilings again.

I mean, wow, like, a Tesla? Really?!

That’s when I really GOT that we can afford one.

My golly gosh has my life changed.

I’m a stay at home, minivan-driving mom with two kids in grade school. I work from a tiny front bedroom I converted into an office, in a 1970s suburban track home that will barely FIT a Tesla in its garage.

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A pool party and a fire-balled car…my Saturday night

Last night, my husband’s car caught fire and blew up in the street. It was parked in front of our house.
 
Around his car were twenty other parked cars owned by the parents of most the kids in my daughter’s 6th grade class.
 
What the heck happened?

The backstory:

Our daughter Lexi is in Cotillion.
 
In San Diego, at least, Cotillion is a Madmen-style 1950s-1960s last-ditch attempt to teach our kids wedding dances and manners before they head into middle school.
 
The kids suffer through instructions and dances in hot stuffy suits and scratchy dresses and pantyhose at a very classy racetrack ballroom.
 
I offered to host a little swim party after the kids’ first lesson to help break the ice, since few 6th grade boys relish wearing ties and dancing with girls. I asked all the parents to come too, to help us get to know each other.
 
So the kids are having a great time cannon-balling in the pool, my husband is mixing margaritas faster than the parents can gulp them, and the front and back doors to our house are wide open with parents and kids spilling from front-yard to back.
 
At around 10 pm, one dad says, “What’s that?” and points out the front door.
 
My god, that’s a fireball in the street.
 
That’s my husband’s car.

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Do you know how to let the genie out of the bottle?

Self-Trust + Manifesting (creation)

The two together are all you need to build a happy life. It works. Period. I just proved that to myself again. When are you going to prove it to YOURself?
This is the point of Flowdreaming: to create things that sell out or expand or take you to your next level; to create relationships that make your heart sing; and to cultivate and follow your self-trust so you know that whatever you choose to do next, it’s what will bring you the feelings you’ve been yearning for all these years.

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