and the tree was happy.

Starting a business is...whoa. It's humbling, exciting, fulfilling. It's also crazy-making, scary as hell and involves a lot of Paula Abdul style two steps forward, two steps back dance moves, only without "MC SKat Kat" helping you look cooler. 

Starting a business in which you are the #ladyboss AND the product especially demands 50 shades of Brene Brown - esque vulnerability, and I've been working on the balance of it all.

How much do I continue to post? Should I be changing the content here? Would it be best to close TGL's chapter? Should I only be writing for external publications now? Is continuing to share my stories a pro or a con for current and future clients?

But you know, as a client myself, some of the best sessions I've had with coaches or therapists over the years have involved a degree of deep truth telling from their end. Some of my biggest Oprah "A-HA!" moments have occurred from hearing their own stories -- from unexpectedly learning something personal about them, and being able to hear my spirit say, with great relief, me too. And some of the worst sessions I've had with other coaches have stemmed from a total lack of just that -- from an overly strong sense of separateness, vs. everybody's in. 

So this is the balance I'm learning right now: honoring what feels right and appropriate to share, vs. sticking to fundamental (and often crucial) boundaries of personal & professional as I grow my business like a true #ladyboss.

On Friday, I finished up a mid-morning client session and decided to throw in the towel on trying to work on my new business website (coming soon! I hope! Dear God just let it be done already!). My energy required me to get outside, so I quickly changed into summer attire and took a short stroll down to the beach near our apartment. Despite my positive coaching work just minutes before, my spirit began to lag a bit as I mulled over varying degrees of the same questions I mentioned above.

And then...

I looked back expecting to see a heart shaped hole carved within the tree responsible for this shadow, only to be quite surprised at the actual shape of it's origin....

Somehow, this knotty, oval hole in a skinny, city-sidewalk tree, together with the help of the sun and my stumbling upon it at this exact time of day, projected a small, international symbol of love to the ground. Magic!, I thought, my own heart leaping at the discovery. I instantly made a connection to a dear friend, and reached for my phone. 

One of the very first things I learned about my college roommate and sister, AAB, was her great love for the children’s classic The Giving Tree. We had a huge poster hanging in our dormitory of it's beloved cover, and often referred to it's text during our numerous exchanges. A sappy text or two later, AAB and I made a FaceTime date for the following evening. Per usual, she was just what the doctor ordered. We laughed (mostly at our faces freezing on the screen in holy unflattering ways), reconnected and reminded each other of things like you can do this, I'm proud of you, and you've got me, always. We continued to be honored keepers of each other's precious stories, which is basically at the heart of all things sisters are meant to be for one another. And, I feel it's worth mentioning, one of the many reasons why sisters will heal the world one day if we can continue on this glorious trajectory of celebrating one another's success.

I'm what you might call a sometimes believer in "signs". I think, mainly, their perceived power has great worth only when they serve to shake you into new perspectives. I don't rely on them, or petition the Universe for many, but appreciate most when they appear in moments of my needing to remember.

In that sense, here's what my very own Giving Tree gifted me:

Even within our deepest troubles; within the biggest, knottiest holes carved in our souls from a lifetime's worth of fear, regret, shame or good ol' fashioned hurt, there, always, remains our hearts. Broken but beating just the same, waiting for a bit of light to be shone on them as a reminder to us that they persist -- as a reminder to generously share their true, unfailing beauty with the world. 

As a friend, and also as a coach, it's my great honor to be a keeper of your precious stories. It's a joy to help you remember. To me, this is the heartbeat of my coaching practice: helping you remember your strength and loveliness through whatever means I have at my disposal. My deep desire to shine a light on your best selves might sometimes involve the practice of exposing all sides of mine, and I believe this tactic will serve any relationships (professional & personal) forged in the future. 

This is how I write. This is how I coach. 

And the tree was happy, indeed.


In Gratitude,


Trish