Forced to live in the moment.
Yea! Spiritual growth!
I hope The Collective appreciates the recent hits I’ve taken for you — as I appreciate the hits you’ve taken for me.
Do we need to struggle to gain spiritual enlightenment? No. It’s already there. Yet as humans, we stumble and bumble around. This planet is rocky for a reason!
Call it the bodhisattva times. Choose to be an entrepreneur and you’ll have even more grist for the eternal mill.
My business has put me to the test in the last month. The year started off with a bang and January was excellent, exceeding my monthly average. Then . . . I drove straight off a cliff into nothingness.
There’s no rhyme or reason to it. February ‘22 was my second best month of the year — stunning in the amount of people who arrived, one after the other. I said to a friend at the time, I don’t know what’s going on — but I love it!
I could say the same thing now — but in a very different tone and love would be a bit of a stretch. Granted, there are always slow months. This February was the worse I’ve had in a long time.
Kinda terrifying, if I didn’t have so many years tucked behind me. I’ve been through storms that seemed endless. This is a grating irritation, like coconut stuck in that one tooth that juts out a bit.
This is the real, day to day life of an entrepreneur. Not the pretty sheen or pyramid schemes.
Just a truth from two decades in the wellness biz. Yet I caught myself the other day thinking, It shouldn’t be like this.
What should it be like then? Constant money, no stress, no shift in temperature? That might as well be a straight shot to paradise, minus the illusion of cash.
Welcome back to Earth, sister.
I do love — even these times. Whatever spectrum of feeling passes in waking moments, it is a day that won’t return.
I love the insight that all things must pass and the Wheel of Fortune isn’t just a pretty card. I love sitting in 63 degree sunlight and typing in a gorgeous field as tiny spring flowers surround my chair. I love that clothes are drying as the wind rustles in the oak next to my bare feet.
I’ve lived long enough on this plane to know the real treasure.
Money, though helpful, has decreased in value as the “game” is viewed more clearly now. Make more income to pay more taxes — but if I take full advantage of deductions, money still goes out in hopes to get a little back. With a biz loan, a lost chunk of interest gets a fraction of return. So, more money! Deductions! Investments for the what ifs! More money to fund death! More money! Round and round we go.
I understand her and him so much better now.
Successful entrepreneur may be one of my titles — but I’m just a hippie at heart.
However, there are still taxes to pay. And man, do I have taxes to pay.
You could say that’s a good thing. It means that I’m “making money”. As well as I prepare for tax season, I was caught off guard this year. More income, less deductions, new state.
An ever-shifting scale.
Squeeze time. Not pretty, definitely not welcome after the February I had — but something to face, nonetheless. Like my mentor said about her own life, If I look at the past, I get angry. If I look at the future, I get petrified. I can only get through today.
One minute at a time. Positive thoughts, careful narratives — without denying the reality of change. That’s the Wheel of Fortune. What goes up must come down. What goes down must come up. Yet it’s easy to forget the 25 amazing reviews for the one that burns or drought months that overshadow the bountiful.
Want to start a business? You better be okay with constant fluctuation. Yes, you might be a little crazy — but that’s how creators roll.
My soul (the eternal ME) craved this experience. Absolutely LOVES being an entrepreneur. Why??
I left a solid, well-paying career to create an unlikely but thriving business out of thin air, using my brain, talents and power of speech.
It heals my shame as a woman “teaching men”, per apostle Paul (if he even said it.)
I’m respected, healing the parts that felt ignored or dismissed.
It provides an opportune environment in which to heal my anxiety, which partially stems from resistance (I don’t like feeling out of control), arrogance (I paid my dues) and lack of trust (I need to figure this out).
It’s an opportunity to “re-parent”, rather than blame and condemn myself.
It heals past trauma as a healer/reader/psychic over many lifetimes.
I can be proud of my accomplishments, such as being a more patient, understanding person.
I live as though retired with the wealth of time built into my schedule.
As Raven, I’m being forced to live in the moment. Thanks, guides.
I blame it on my soul. She loves this sh*t. I can hear her laughing at the stress because where she is — the greater Expression — there ain’t no taxes. No money. No need to strive.
But I’m still Raven — and I love that girl.
That’s why I can’t talk to my guides, unlike my friend Karen who is a master teacher with all that stuff. I usually end up in the car, yelling frustrated prayers and a well-placed epithet at my guides.
Cathartic, it is.
My guides —fortunately — are the strong, silent type. They knew exactly who they signed up for when they got me. I’ve had some trades along the path — but my master guide is here for the duration.
Don’t know their names. Don’t really talk to them — as I said above — but breathe out thank you as much as I can (when not epitheting…)
I’m proud of myself during this last go-round. No yelling in the car!
My guides surprised me when bam! one person paid for my Substack, then bam! and bam! Then a client returned. The Wheel begins to turn. The retraction becomes the wave, coursing back to find me.
That’s my kind of magic.
Didn’t I know what was going to happen — yah know, since I’m a seer?
It’s an immature view that psychics know all and can read minds. It shows a lack of understanding over the nature of those gifts.
The truth is, it’s 1:33pm and I’m still uncertain about lunch. Probably my rockin’ cauliflower soup.
Gauge, evaluate, then execute.
I live within the Great Reveal. Those signups and subscriptions were not arbitrary. That is a future which beckons: the next iteration of Raven.
Yet there is a business to operate, so the two must co-exist. Shivaya Wellness the root as my Substack extends. Another branch, another possibility, another sign.
I’ll get to the next place, once I rise from my chair. I’ll pay taxes before they’re due. I’ll eat soup, wait for clients and enjoy the day. Maybe do some breathwork — or have a brownie, then make hummus. It’s not difficult, when I live in the minute, right now, right here. That enlightenment I always seek — right here, in me.
I’m happy, despite — or because — of this stress.
When I go through temporary difficulty — and this is so small, so inconsequential compared to what others face — I can feel resistance being chipped away, one anxious moment at a time. My younger self would have flipped out long ago, panicked and wild. Now when anxiety begins to rise, I write in my journal a plan of action and options. I write: This will pass. No big deal. You won’t even think about this in May. It helps to read it on paper. I’ll bake, make a great meal and remind myself that every year, biz has grown. Shivaya Wellness is based on yearly numbers, not month. I always have what I need — whether in fat or lean months. There are savings and other options; I’m safe and though the pressure is not what I wish to experience, it’s provides the opportunity to dive again into the essential wisdom of staying present. It’s all I’ve got.
Stocks, banks, crypto, pensions, IRAs, health, houses, relationships, government, business — nothing is guaranteed. Shaky, quaky sandcastles.
Certainty: death — and taxes!
Reality: my immense strength of will.
I breathe in — right here, right now, today — then chill out and watch woodpeckers devour suet. A cat rolls around in the grass. A robin rototills the garden.
Teachers everywhere, if I choose to see.