Choosing the Mighty Life

For about a year I’ve been thinking about pursuing life coach training, a path to which I seem pretty drawn, but I just can’t seem to make the commitment. There are a lot of programs out there that provide various depths of education and range from a 2-day weekend seminar all the way up to a 4-year degree and beyond. I already have one of those 4-year degrees and wasn’t eager to embark upon that massive feat, nor did I see the value in traipsing to a 2-day seminar to hand over my money in exchange for some official designation as a Life Coach. 

If you are anywhere near responsible for coaching lives, it should take more than a seminar. 

So, to procrastinate in my classic pattern, I bought books. For a year I bought books. And I even read most of them. They are books I was and still am excited about. Loving What Is by Byron Katie. The Power of Now and A New Earth by Eckhart Tolle. This was in addition to all my Brene Brown work. And I told myself that once I got through 4 specific Martha Beck books that were pre-requirements for enrolling in her training, that’d I’d enroll. That was the training that my own life coach completed before she began practicing. Good enough for her, good enough for me. 

Except I haven’t finished the Martha books and didn’t enroll in her perfectly lovely training. It never felt all the way right. There were no signs. 

About 10 days ago I got a clear-as-a-bell sign. Or series of them, if you will. 

Lately I’ve been downright obsessed with a dating app called Tinder. My friends have, too. We have been meeting guys and whatnot–lots of matches. Lots of mismatches. Lots of creepers. Lots of amazeball guys. Several instances of bad timing. But, all in all, it’s been fun and a nice little crutch for this lady as she entered the dating world from a long break. However, I recently claimed I was shutting it all down — it was just too distracting. Too frustrating. The bad was outweighing the good. 

Then I matched with This One Guy from Tulsa. His profile caught my attention because, unlike the majority of the hundreds of profiles I’d scanned before his, he actually seemed like a happy guy. What struck me in particular was the phrase, “I live an incredible life”. When he introduced himself and started interviewing me he asked why my profile said, “Advisor to many and love figuring out how to hep people live more fully, myself included.” I told him about Brene Brown and Eckhart Tolle and my many epiphanies. 

Soon he mentioned he had just completed about a year of life coach training. 

I honest-to-god gasped at my phone. Then my soul giggled that deep, knowing kind of chuckle when I realize I’ve stumbled onto something important. 

The next day I began googling all of the things and discovered that his school was in San Francisco. For those playing along, I am psychotically in love with the Bay Area. I also learned that the program is 10 weekend sessions over the course of 9 months with lots of reading and peer calls in between. For those playing along, I love people. In-person people. See up there at the top of my blog where it talks about the people? 

The tuition was a lot less but with plane tickets, it’s going to be about the same as Martha’s program. 

But with real-life people! And in San Francisco! I could revolutionize my heart and gain professional training on something I naturally practice every day with friends in view of the Golden Gate Bridge. No shit. I had no idea such a place existed.

The Universe finally got my attention for a coaching program by delivering it to me via a hot guy then placed it in San Francisco. I call these little serendipitous elements, Trail Markers. Sheri, you’re on the right path. See? I marked the trail with things you pay attention to just to be sure you see what I see. It suddenly seemed like a no-brainer. 

Except I wasn’t sure how the money would work out. Of course Fear had to make an appearance. 

I hemmed. I hawed. I flipped and flipped through my calendar. I scoured their website. I made phone calls and texted Team Sheri. To one friend I said, “I should be a life coach, right? I’m not just imagining this?” To which this person replied, 

I believe your life experiences have led you to become a person who sees life in a way most people don’t. You’ve helped get my head together, and over the last two years you’ve been unbelievably patient with me as I’ve banged my head against the same wall over and over. You never passed judgement on me. You only offered sympathy and objective advice whether it was something I wanted to hear or not. You led the proverbial horse to water and sat patiently until I decided to drink. You’ve been my life-coach for the last two years, so yes, I think it’s something you should pursue.

The money will sort itself out, it always does. The time investment will sort itself out, too.

In October I board a plane bound for my favorite city. I’m enrolled in a SCHOOL FOR FEELINGS!

It’s like Camp Mighty once a month! But with more heart work and less palm trees.  And probably not a pool. I was bummed when I learned that Camp Mighty was discontinued but now that turn of events is just another Trail Marker.

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A thoughtful illustration (NSFW)

This week one of my friends reported he’d commissioned an illustration for me whilst hanging around Reddit. A banjo(y) of sorts. This is my favorite instrument and I love them so very, very much. He thought he’d be funny and have the ultimate banjo drawn. I’ll update this post later once I know the name of the artist, because it is actually clever and well done. But… graphic and profane. 

If you are easily offended, please don’t read further.

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Sub Tweeting Swag

Years ago, perhaps 5, my friend Lanie began tweeting a certain thing when she had something to say that she could not say. Rather than opt for the vague tweet “You know, people in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones” or whatever, she’d lay this thing down: 

Type, type, type. Delete, delete, delete.

My god, I thought, this woman is a genius. Around that time I was going through several major life changes (divorce, dating, job changes) and had PLENTY to tweet about that I absolutely should not tweet about. I, too, began laying this thing down:

Type, type, type. Delete, delete, delete.

 And I really did do this. I used the message any time I started to type, then back up, then retype, then back up. It was cathartic. It was silly. It was intriguing…someone always asked what it was about. 

Eventually, life got busy. In extreme situations, whether I was strung out with a hectic time or a frustrating situation, I transitioned to:

TTT, DDD

And so it went.

About a year ago, maybe, my friend Mark tweeted at us TTT,DDDers that we could also call write it like: 

(T+D)*3

Leave it to the trained architect to math it up for all us twitter nerds. Later in the conversation someone (him? Lanie? Someone else?) mentioned it might make a great t-shirt. 

And now it *is* a t-shirt! There’s this dark grey one with white letters and a green one whose white letters mysteriously became Twitter Blue after a day or so. A sign? Certainly.

They are $20 each and range in size from XS to XXL. For $5 I will put it in a padded envelope or little box and ship it anywhere in the U.S. I have a strong suspicion that this will be our only run of these as my very short attention span is already cooking up a completely different t-shirt design.

Please buy my shirt. I’ve got four hungry children** and a crop in the field.

Here’s where you buy the shirt!!

 

 

 

**I have two children who are well-fed and two house plants who have survived 15 months in my care. 

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