The Year of Magical Living

If you look closely at this photo you can see me standing at the edge of the water. Guess what I’m doing?

I’m setting fierce and gentle intentions, and declaring them to the universe. It’s something I love to do when a new year comes along.


Since we’re always co-creating our lives, chances of getting what we truly desire and what lights us up to the core of our being are higher when we take some time to let life know.

Last year, I decided to explore European Living, having more fun, and opening myself wide up to blessings and miracles. I won’t say it was all a beautiful, easy ride. I had my ‘head under the covers, not coming out, ready to quit’ moments.


And, at the end of the year, I realized some pretty amazing stuff had happened:

1. I went on two super fun trips–to LA with my sister and to Seattle with my husband–and I foot the bill for a big chunk of the expenses. I LOVED getting to do this.

2. I hired a consultant to help me rock my book dreams. We’ve had some really cool things happen.

3. I started having 20K months.

4. I spent time during work days at coffee shops, hanging out with friends, and taking myself on adventures–this is the European Living part!

5. During one of my ‘head under the covers, not coming out, ready to quit’ moments I said ‘God, what do I do?’ and I got the answer loud and clear: ‘STAY THE COURSE.’


As I stood at the edge of the ocean setting my intentions for 2017, I held a rock representing each one in my hand. And as I released it into the ocean, I said “In 2017 I will…”

– Surrender

– Follow my joy

– Not suck the joy out

– Count my blessings

– Co-create with Life and the Universe

This is my Year of Magical Living. I can’t wait!

Wanna join me?

I’ll be sharing details on a complimentary in-person workshop and tele-seminar coming up soon to everyone on this list. Don’t wanna miss out? Sign up here.

Love Lindsey

Jan 10, 2017 · Read More · Comment

I may have taken my ‘overcoming fear’ self-challenges too far [video]


I’ve got a thing for facing my fear.

But don’t think I’m doing the SkyJump in Vegas, or skiing The Coffin at Whistler-Blackcomb. I’m riding the bus. Going sailing. Answering the door.

Doing regular things that cause me anxiety or make me worry–a friendlier name for fear.

Over the years, I’ve experienced a dramatic shift in how I handle life. I no longer “handle” life. I love it. I am thriving. And it’s new enough that it still feels unexpected. Different.

Two things have been life changing:

1. Becoming aware of my own thinking
2. Learning to laugh at it

Just ‘cos I’m thriving doesn’t mean I don’t get anxious, that I have eradicated anything other than positive, uplifting thoughts. Ha. That makes me laugh.

This is Who I am

I’m the girl who considered standing up on the bus an adrenaline-fueled activity. Who, when asked by a prospective boyfriend what she liked to do outside of work, responded with “I read a lot.” Who secretly took an Ativan each evening on her first sailing trip.

I’m now the woman who considers skiing black diamond runs–except for The Coffin–an adrenaline-fueled activity. Who said ‘yes’ to getting up in front of 1,000 people. Who slept without Ativan the last time she went sailing.

And what has changed the most is my relationship with fear and worry–my own inner anxious thinking.

This is What Laughter Does

Now, I can laugh at it.

And this has been so life changing, so radiantly impactful, that I felt compelled to take my ‘F fear’ self-challenges one step further. I signed up for a stand-up comedy class. That culminates with performing live on stage at Yuk Yuk’s in Vancouver. Waaat.

As soon as I made the payment to register my brain hit the fan. My inner anxious woman went beserk. She was freaking out. “What the h did you just do?! Why did you do that?! You’re not even funny!” And that last one felt like the biggie. You can see a picture of my face in that moment on both my facebook pages–and instagram. I figured if I posted about it, it would up the ‘face my fear’ factor–because I wouldn’t be able to back out.

And I don’t care.

This feels important. My Higher Self says ‘Oh heck, yes. I’m all in.’

So I’m gonna do it.

When I told my mom about it she laughed, told me to go for it, and then said “You better get started.” The class doesn’t start until January. I have 11 pages of what might be material. Because, like I said to my mom, “I know. Because everyone else in the class will be … funny!”

The Life Changing Impact of Laughing at Ourselves

I’m applying to speak at PowHERtalks about The Life Changing Impact of Laughing at Ourselves.

Here’s what I had to say about it:

Nov 23, 2016 · Read More · Comment

I Am Not a Dancer, But I Will Dance


I am Uncoordinated and Envious

In high school I had good “friend” who was da bomb at dancing. I put “friend” in quotation marks so you know she wasn’t what I’d call a true friend these days—she was better at insults disguised as “I’m only telling you because I care” comments than she was at being a friend.

Da bomb doesn’t have ‘em. So you know she was better at dancing than she was at being a friend.

I’m gonna call her Anna. Anna had a reputation. At any party or get together, everyone knew that Anna would own the room. The girl had moves. She was sixteen years old and could werk werk werk like she was Rihanna. Which she did, nearly every time we got together.

I would watch Anna out of the corner of my eye from a corner of the room. I would think I wish I could dance like her.

I have always loved dancing.

I Wear My Kindergarten Tutu

When I was in Kindergarten my favourite thing to do before bed was to put on the white slip with tutu-esque crinoline one of my aunts had bought me and fling myself around the living room to one of my parents’ Beatles records. Mom and Dad would carefully hold a straight face behind their respective book and newspaper, occasionally peeking out to catch me spinning in circles or jumping up and down.

I am Uncoordinated and Dancing

I have a very distinct memory of being at a party in high school, deciding that once and for all I would not stand in the corner of the room watching but would instead stand a metre or so out from the wall, and dance.

I remember wondering if I was doing it right, if I looked anything like what I hoped I did. It was terrifying. It was exhilarating. I was loving it.

I heard a voice behind me. It was Anna.

She said, “Don’t dance, Lindsey.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Because,” she replied, “you can’t.”

And then she walked away.

I am Crushed

I know you’ve had your own high school moments, or moments from later in life, that impacted you more than you wished they would. So it likely won’t surprise you to know that it was years before I tried dancing again.

I Try Again

About a year ago a friend of mine convinced me to be her wing woman in a ballet class. I’m going to call her M. M had done ballet as a kid, and wanted a buddy alongside her when she tested it out again. It was a beginner class. I was a whole new person compared to that kid in high school. I agreed.

If you have never taken a ballet class, let me explain something key to you: even beginner ballet is for experts. Most of the time, the teacher does not teach. She demonstrates what you’re going to do once, and then says ‘Your turn.’

And then she walks around the room adjusting arms and legs as the students navigate the sheer terror of trying to remember a combination of moves they have never seen while attempting to look like a ballerina in three different mirrors all the while coming across as more of a hippopotamus.

This is What Happens

This is what happened during me and M’s class: I got the giggles so badly that the teacher stopped in her around-the-room pacing to give me a stern school-marm glare that was so intimidating I was more impressed than cow-towed. I completed my first turn on one leg with the other gracefully raised behind me and both arms arranged just so—only to find I was facing the wrong way at the end of it.

And I was the only one facing the wrong way at the end of it. Also, I kicked the bar: twice. Which happens when you are using the wrong leg. Both times, the resounding clang rang out through the ballroom like a gong, causing all of the other students to stop and look. M could barely contain herself.

And yet.

Despite it All, The Love Comes Back

There was a part of me that was loving it. There was a part of me that felt like that little girl in kindergarten in her pretend tutu, flinging herself around to The Beatles.

So me and M went back. We signed up for the Beginner Series. And then we signed up again.

And eventually, I began to feel like I was getting it. Like there were moments in the midst of all the huffing and puffing where I actually did stop looking like a hippopotamus and for a split second looked and felt like a ballerina.

You Might Say I Got a Bit Too Confident

I started dancing at home while making dinner. I would put the radio on, get the food cooking, then clear out the ottoman from our living room, and—when a great song came on—I’d dance. Matt would come home from work to find me flinging myself around the living room, dinner burning on the stove. You can see that very thing happening here: in this video we made for a friend’s wedding. Cooking is also not my greatest forte.

Once Matt came in the door, I would usually race back to the kitchen, too self-conscious to let him see me.

But one day, I got there. I had done other dance classes—hip hop, contemporary, and burlesque—and got to the point where I felt like I got this. I got this dancing thing down.

So one night Matt and I were settling in for a cozy evening at home. The plan was to watch Netflix and relax. He was all set up on the couch: in his basketball shorts and t-shirt. I was all set up for joining him: in my sweatpants, tank top, long-sleeve shirt and sweater.

A song was playing in my head as I came up the stairs. And I was owning it; I was bopping my way into the living room, I was sliding across the hardwood floor, I was as graceful and as lithe as a real-deal dancer. I spun myself into a pirouette.

I lost my balance and tipped over.

Ricocheted off the ottoman.

And onto the floor.

Guess What?!


I collapsed. Not from shame. In laughter.

I lay on the floor and laughed until I could hardly breathe. Through his laughter, Matt asked if I was ok.

And you know what?

I was. I am.

Because I don’t care if I don’t look like a ballerina. I don’t care if Anna would still come up to me at a party and tell me not to dance. I don’t care if I fall down.

I am not a dancer.

But I will still dance.

With love, and light ahead,


Oct 18, 2016 · Read More · Comment

behind the scenes is another story. what really happened on that call

Behind The Scenes Behind the scenes is another story. You know what I love? Telling people what really goes on. Cos’ I like people to know that I don’t have it all figured out. Also, it makes me feel a bit like I’m running my own reality show. And I always wanted to be on…

Sep 27, 2016 · Read More · Comment

how to become abundant

What I was Noticing I recently shared a story about something powerful that happened for me when I first started looking at money. It might serve you for me to share it here. I kept on noticing the number 108 everywhere. I’ve found it kind of fun to notice numbers and then look them up…

Sep 19, 2016 · Read More · Comment (1)
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