I was talking to my Mind-Body Magic Community Members about social media this week, and something important came up: wasting time. Specifically, wasting time creating and writing social media content. 

Many of the coaches in the community weren’t a fan of wasting time writing social media content (defined as writing content that “didn’t work”).

I’ve also seen this idea that we’re “wasting time” in several of the bazillion ads I get in my feed about running a coaching business.

This is a typical scarcity tactic: It’s designed to make you feel a little yucky about everything you just did for your business so that you’ll buy the thing so-and-so is selling to make your business better. 

In the coaching and entrepreneur world, we call this a bro marketing tactic. In other words, it makes you feel not-so-great so that you’ll want to buy something to fix the issue. 

It makes me feel a little barfy just...

A couple of weeks ago, I snuck away to a vacation rental thirty minutes from my home. The fall leaves decorated the foothills and a nearby hiking trail beckoned. 

I’d planned this retreat to A) have a lot of fun and restore my spirit and B) create new ideas for my business. I imagined a light-hearted week with my good friend/marketing strategist who had flown in to join me.

You know the feeling when you visualize and dream about the upcoming fun? Revel in the anticipation? I knew delight was waiting for me on that Colorado hillside.

And yet, at the same time, I found I had to sit and be with major emotions throughout the week. I had a little meltdown one day. Other days I felt turbulence rolling around in my chest and hit the hiking trail to help my body and spirit work through it. 

When you invest in the creative process, it’s messy. 

When you become a parent, it’s messy. When you open up to the mind-body connection and refuse to stuff your feelings...

The sun shone, illuminating the pink stripe I’d just painted on my little bedroom shelf. It was a perfect summer day, so I’d brought the shelf into the yard to give it a coat of pink paint. The thick, easy swipe of the brush satisfied a deep creative craving in my soul. 

Being ten years old, I thought a pink shelf was exactly the right fit for my bedroom. I picked up a roller, rolled it through the paint and gave each shelf a nice, thick coat. I turned to reload, but something caught my eye. 

The deck post was just behind me, and it was chipped and worn at the bottom. It called for a touch-up. 

Lost in the creativity of the moment, I rolled the roller up the post, enthusiastically painting it pink. 

Admittedly, later, I realized that probably wasn’t the best idea. My dad, it seemed, felt that pink was not the right color for the deck post. We shared different creative visions. 

I didn’t get into a ton of trouble as a kid, but I did...