Manifesting my Desire

For about a year I’ve been quietly searching for a small company to work with applying my business skills. Not consult, not freelance, but be hired.

I’m involved in some hella cool projects.

Like RevolutionK.org and AThousandThingsToTalkAbout.com to name a few. I’ve been leading group online programs, mentoring people in designing their life and connecting cool people through ChoiceDriven.Life  I’m documenting my nomadic life and my newest adventure toward fostering teens. I’m having a blast, I feel like I’m on Purpose and being used up in all the right ways!  I want to play with these things and enjoy them, I don’t want to have my financial needs influence what or who I charge inside of this sort of play. I also don’t want to invest any more time hustling for my next freelance gig, I’d rather invest that time playing.

So, I’ve been searching for the perfect job.

I had very specific criteria like it will be part-time, remote, and my employer will be focused on a mission I can align with. It will not take over my life, I will still have time for all my hella cool projects. It will use the full range of my business skills without draining me energetically.

I started off researching companies I was attracted to, whose missions I admired, and sending my resume to only those companies. It was fun, finding passionate companies and explaining how I could help them have an impact by simply being me.

After about 8 months, having had no interviews, no bites, being told a bachelors is required, that they wanted a ‘fresh perspective’ or that I was ‘overqualified’ I got frustrated and forgot about my dream job and my criteria.I also redid my resume to look ‘younger’ and started searching job boards, applying to most any job that was remote and part time. None of this felt fun, or authentic. It was driven by fear (what if my lack of degree is finally catching up with me) and scarcity (what if there aren’t enough jobs).

I strive to operate from creation and design (antiSurvival mode), not fear and scarcity (Survival mode).

So I took a break from the hunt and re-aligned with my Intention for 2017 which was to Discern my Desires. I went back to my commitment and Purpose, narrowing my search to only those that satisfied my Desires. I created a resume I was proud of and only applied for organizations that I could confirm fit my criteria.

Then, earlier this month, I discovered that I needed the stability of a job to begin down the path to foster and that really ignited my fire.

I’m sure you guessed it – it all paid off!

A week after the foster info session I found an opening with a yoga institute out of California. Today was my first day as their Business Manager. It’s remote, part-time and the entire team is super committed to their mission which I totally align with. Even their sales philosophy mirrors my own which is contrary to industry standards. I’ll be using a wide breadth of my business background with full flexibility in schedule. It’s exactly what I was asking for!

I’m beyond stoked to play with this new team AND have the freedom to keep playing with all of my hella cool projects including having the bandwidth to foster when the time comes.

This sort of patience and commitment to my own desires – this is not typical of me. It really is a reflection of the growth and evolution I’ve experienced and a manifestation of my Intention for 2017. So I’m taking my own advice and CELEBRATING this win!

Meltdown (or I miss my Mom)

Earlier this week I had a meltdown.

It’s been about 6 weeks since I left Orlando. Last year when I flew everywhere I didn’t go for more than about 6 weeks without a pit stop in Orlando to swap clothes and get cuddles. So it kinda makes sense that it’s at this point that I start to really miss things.

I really missed my family. Which makes sense and I can wrap my head around that because they’re real, I can touch them, they exist.

I also had a fiercely miss my home. This one is more confusing to process because that doesn’t exist, I don’t have my own space in the traditional sense. I haven’t for over a year. I am missing a place that does not exist. As I sit with this it starts to become clear that I miss an idea, rather than a place.

This isn’t the first time I’ve had these urges.

There have been several occasions where I considered a return to ‘normalcy’ a return to a standard stable lifestyle. Shoot, I sort of had that the first half of the year when I stuck around Orlando to support family.

Here’s the thing, I know that if I were to honor these feelings, hop in the car and drive back to Orlando to settle into a ‘normal’ life…it wouldn’t take but a couple of months before I was antsy, craving the travel life again.

These thoughts, these feelings- they are just that. They are coming from my Monkey Mind, from fear and as a result of living in and being with the very edge of my comfort zone. They were created by my Mind.

I don’t allow my Mind alone to dictate how I live my life. Nope. My Soul is driving that bus.

This is just one more scary moment to get through.

And it’s okay for me to be in the moment, to be scared, to miss my Mom, my Girl, my Guy, my brother, my bed (which is on end in a storage unit) and my coffee table (which is amazing). It’s even okay for me to decide to turn around and drive back to all of those things. If that is what my Soul truly wants.

As I spent the day in my meltdown and eventually processed what was happening and moved through it, I realized that I haven’t been sticking to all of my daily rituals. In the last 3 weeks I slept in 5 different beds and I didn’t sage or ground in any of them. I also haven’t been honoring my commitment to exercise daily and, if I’m honest, I have been resisting the level of meditation my Soul is calling me to. These are all rituals and commitments I’ve put in place because they support me in declaring each new place as my home, in that moment.

No wonder I haven’t felt at home! No wonder I’m feeling home sick for the idea of home, I haven’t been creating it!

Before writing this I spent some time saging the home I’m staying in. I spent time with my grounding point. I invested the afternoon in a long stretch, a good work out and a long bath meditation. I do feel better, more grounded. But I’m still uneasy, there’s still a huge part of my Mind (and Ego?) that are annoyed about how things have been going. I still miss my Mom. And that’s okay.

My Body is much more content now that I gave it some attention.

My Soul is happy, aligned and in the middle of massive expansion.

My Mind is very, very happy My Guy will be here soon for a visit and that I’ll be flying home to the VonMutii in about two weeks.

All is well in Sunni’s World.

Freedom from Obligation

A theme that’s been emerging in my world is the difference between Obligation and Commitment. For some people, they may be synonyms, but to me, they definitely are not. I’ve been doing one of my word studies to dig in and get them clear for myself.

com·mit·ment noun
the state or a quality of choosing to be dedicated to a cause

ob·li·ga·tion noun a course of action to which a person is morally or legally bound

 There’s one keyword that delineates them, to me.

Choice.

The more I dig into the etymology, history and meanings of the words, to me, commitment is choosing to bind yourself to something/someone and obligation is a thrust upon you and often feels like a burden.

This is important because I look at my life through the lens of choices.

Whenever I begin to feel obligated to something I pause to check in to see, is there anything about this ‘thing’ that I’m actually committed to? Can I connect to that commitment strongly enough that the feeling of burden lifts?

I find when I’m doing something out of obligation my heart isn’t in it, whereas if I can do it out of a commitment, it’s all heart.

One example is that I often skip buying presents for my friends on their birthday. But I’m known to randomly send gifts, cards etc when I feel inspired. I’m committed that they feel loved, but not obligated to do it in any particular way or on any specific timeline.

A small shift perspective can have a huge impact.

Another example. In March 2017 I’d been living a nomadic life for a couple of years and was starting to feel a bit like a fraud because I’d been in one place, my hometown no less, for several months. I was feeling obligated as a nomad to get back on the road and really pushing myself to make this happen. Funny thing is, when I related to it that way, as an obligation, I wasn’t able to get any traction. Everything I had planned didn’t come to fruition. This all became super clear when, three days before I was scheduled to finally leave town and go to Europe, My Guy experienced a major tragedy in his family. He said to me ‘don’t feel obligated to stay behind, you can go Europe‘ and my first thought was ‘hell no! I’m committed to you, I’m staying!‘.

That same conversation taught me another lesson, about my commitment to myself. Traveling and nomading is not an obligation – I chose this life and if it stops feeling juicy and awesome, if it starts feeling like a burden, then I will choose a different life. Once I again started relating to my lifestyle as a choice and commitment rather than a burden and obligation things started magically falling into place. By June 2017 I was back to traveling in a new and exciting way.

I wrote about Priorities and it’s still totally true. I continue to evolve and this conversation of Obligation and Commitment is just another layer to the onion of this round of evolution. My hope is that by sharing it with you, seeing my journey, will allow you to more deeply connect with your own.

Does this relationship between Obligation and Commitment ring true for you?

Are there things you’re doing out of Obligation that you can look for what you’re Committed to as a way to shift your relationship?

 

Rite of Passage with a Razor

Today, as I showered I had a vivid memory of the first time I shaved my legs. In my house, it was almost a rite of passage. For most, it seems that a girl’s first cycle is the rite of passage. Not me. For me it was shaving.

With most things related to physically maturing, I just did it myself, for example, I stole feminine supplies from my mom for a year before she realized. I fudged my age and got piercings without permission. But for some reason, I honored my parents and waited on the shaving bit. It may have had something to do with me being blonde and it not being super impactful but I don’t really know.

It finally happened going into the summer I would turn 14. When I showed Mom my new swimsuit, well, it was obviously time if you get the drift. I remember sitting in our bathroom with the horribly ugly green marble tile Mom by my side. She had her leg up and demonstrated a stroke and then I would mimic on my own leg. She gave me tips on how to handle the danger zones, ankles, knees etc. and how I could save time by stopping at my shorts line if I wouldn’t be swimming anytime soon. She allowed me to get a variety of razors and creams, even expensive ones, so I could determine which I liked best.

Not sure why I remembered this experience in the shower today, it could be related to all the loss I’ve experienced lately. Going to funerals where moments are rehashed and cherished and wondering if the deceased realized how valued they were.

No matter. Thanks Mom, for taking the time to give me the experience of a rite of passage. To this day, I rarely cut myself while shaving and still use the same razors I decided on back then. You done good.

I find it interesting how I don’t remember being eager to join the shaving women of America. I know I sat there with my fuzzy legs while friends talked about waxing, shaving, nair, but I don’t remember feeling left out, or grateful or reluctant either. Just indifferent. Which is odd given how opinionated I am. I also find it interesting that I never questioned that I should shave, it never occurred to me to go natural. It certainly occurs to me now. I daydream about a society where smooth doesn’t equal sexy and in winter months I get quite soft and furry…but now we’re getting into a whole other topic.

This memory has left me curious about a few things.

Can you remember your first time shaving?

Have you experienced a rite of passage, what was it?