Some things I thought I wanted.
and why "grind" has been removed from my vocabulary.
I thought I wanted to invest in ABB properties but then — nope.
If you could make an easy $40k+ from ABB properties or sit in a lounge chair and read books, which would you choose?
My Gemini friend didn’t hesitate. Read books in the sun.
We’re both entrepreneurs with 20 years of track under our feet. She’s a restaurant owner in a tough, anti-business state but after years of sheer grit and determination — while wanting to quit more times than I can recall — her place is more successful than ever.
All she wants is to retire and read her Kindle on the beach. She’s nearly 70.
An acquaintance has a few ABB properties. Great reviews and from what I can surmise, a solid 2nd income. They don’t seem to mind the constant cleaning, fixing and communication required to be a Superhost - and when they can’t do it all themselves, they hire a cleaner and contractors to maintain the properties.
The reviews remain excellent but in 2023, bookings have dropped 30-35% because of the overall market, economic doubt and flood of recent STRs. Add in unexpected issues with rotting wood, roof tweaks, infrequent guest damage and general wear and tear. They would prefer to make more income — but seem satisfied that bills get paid because otherwise, the houses would sit empty in the woods.
Good for them in realizing an earlier Bnb dream. ABB fits the bill and from what I can tell, they have a bit of a workaholic gene and work a FT job, though they are near 70.
If I had oodles of $$ and wanted to invest in STRs, I’d hire a property manager, cleaning crew and have nothing to do with day to day. Even that takes work — and work I am no longer interested in. To my acquaintance, it’s a means to an end.
I’m exhausted just writing about it. Bring me the lounger! Actually, I’m typing in it right now.
A spacious day with little agenda and a few clients. That’s my kind of work.
I thought I wanted to wander and remain rootless — but cats changed all that.
I’ve moved around quite a bit in my adult life. At first to escape a claustrophobic, painful Christianity once I “came out” and then the road transformed into more of an adventure. It would be easier without cats — but they seem to find me and want to be part of the ride.
I love my pets, so whaddya gonna do? There’s a picture of my original adventurers — Avery and Zoey — in my dash and I say hello from time to time. They’re still rolling with me.
I’ve never understood people who throw away animals when old, sick or a nuisance to them. Once I commit, I’m there for my pets and always tune into their needs. This limits the road because cats are territorial creatures and some enjoy the ride more than others. My present cat reflects my personality now: lounge chair.
Freedom = lounge chair. Kindle. Easy sleep.
Plus, there’s a stray — a gorgeous tuxedo — who I’ve been “getting through the winter” for the last year and now waits outside to be fed promptly at 7am, hissing his thanks.
I’ve travelled plenty. Lived in several states. Country, town, small cities, the once-great City, suburbs, oceans, mountains. I’m not done yet — but happy to settle wherever I am for the time being.
It’s all temporary, anyway.
I thought making a certain amount would indicate that I’m successful — and that Shivaya Wellness wasn’t a “real” business until so.
The other day, I realized that I had created a successful, viable company.
A company of 1 — and my wonderful clients — but a company, nonetheless.
Business, company — whatever you want to call it. The thing that creates tax bills thing. That thing that easily sustains my life now, despite slow times.
It only took 20 years to realize it.
When you start a business, it’s easy to fall into niche, branding, hustle culture. There will always be someone who makes more money, gets the book deal, has more clients (though it’s easy to pack a calendar or say anything online) or is the latest Queen of something.
Until I got a handle on what personal success meant to me, Shivaya Wellness was a concept just out of reach. I wasn’t making enough, I didn’t have enough clients or not enough exposure. I should be on more podcasts/platforms/media. I shouldn’t be in debt because that makes me a loser. I should be more famous. I should write more books — so I pumped out the books. But then I should’ve sold more, promoted more, etc.
What is ENOUGH?
It was never enough for my brain — and the temptation to return to a normal job pressed. Then I’d remember boss and that quickly dissuaded the notion of security.
I’d make it, no matter what. I had the vision — and it was only a matter of “time” (i.e. lessening my resistance and ideas of earthly success) that it would arrive.
I’m a natural saleswoman. Very persuasive and charming. One time — at a yard sale, no less — a well-dressed gentleman came up to me.
You’re a natural, he said. I’ve been in the business a long time. You could sell anything. Once he told me his name, I realized he was the top car guy in the region with several dealerships.
He’s right — and it’s a good thing I have integrity because I really could sell bullsh*t and make a TON of money.
But that would cost me a greater price than even 100+ figures could afford, in this life or eons down the road.
My personal definition of success:
Free, unobstructed time — with no pressure or agenda.
A few clients interspersed throughout a balanced day that includes whatever activity interests me.
Healthy body. Peaceful heart. Happy constitution.
Either no debt or debt at an easy minimum, if business requires.
The ability to take time off when able. Yesterday, I buzzed to a place I enjoy, sunroof open, shopping for journals, drawing in the wondrous power of cherry blossoms in full bloom, then lunch al fresco, surrounded by happy people in 85 degree spring sun. No rush and back home for a beautiful evening walk. Perfect!
I thought I wanted parents who adored me and showed it. I still do — but didn’t get it this time around. They still conveyed valuable principles.
If you missed this book recommendation, it is 100% Raven approved.
As my dad’s life ebbs away, I make it a point to remember what my parents did right, though I don’t condone their many failures. I do remember that they were human and from a traumatized war generation of abuse, early loss and let’s not talk about it, dear.
What’s done is done.
Strong points my parents did right:
Spirituality. I may not have grooved with fundamentalist Xianity, but I am connected to Spirit/God/the Nameless. Growing up in church provided an example of community, a practice of daily faith and prayer. Even if I’d been raised by atheists, I would have found my way to ____ somehow but with less therapy bills. The unseen is built-in and for my astro enthusiasts, lots of activity in my 12th house.
No drink/smoke/curse. It didn’t stop my sibling from being an addict but we are all adopted and I believe that bent comes from genetics, as much as abuse. My Christian parents provided a drug/alcohol free zone and since everyone gathered at our house, no one was allowed to bring alcohol. It was a big drag for some but it taught me what it was like to connect with people without the influence of drink and provided a measure of safety. There’s a reason they are called spirits. I most certainly do not trust men under the influence and though I went to many lesbian bars to connect with women, what I found were mostly sloppy drunks with no boundaries and boring conversation. Thank God over my disinterest, though I was once a downer at parties. No, I was just ahead of the alcohol-free curve now emerging in society.
They encouraged music, sports, education and the arts. My mom was a huge reader, artist and cook and my dad loves singing and drama (no surprise). All of us either played an instrument or were encouraged to express ourselves in art, sports, music. I played classical piano for years, read/wrote music and played all kinds of sports. My parents paid for private schools but it was our choice whether we wanted to continue in public. They never pressured me to go to a particular college but wherever I wanted and paid the full ride. We went to Christian summer camps, worked when we were teens and were part of that now lost era of free rein without devices and constant surveillance. We knew we better come home when our dad yelled across the yard and rang that stupid bell like we were a herd of cows!