It Only Happens Twice A Year. 2.5 Hours of Coaching With Me

double shot lindsey straight ahead and laughing

This opportunity comes only 2x per year.

When fall arrives, I start to think about what’s ahead. I take a step back and up and look at things from a higher perspective.

What am I aiming at?
If anything was possible, what would I create in my life and my work?

My Meltdown

At the end of 2014, I hit a wall. I looked at my money, my dreams, my business and I was no where near where I wanted to be. I’d earned only 10 thousand dollars that year, my business was just poking along, and my dream of writing a book was still a dream. So I got real. I looked at my relationship with my money, my dreams, and my business. My relationship with myself. And I decided to make some changes.

In January of 2016, I had my first 20 thousand dollar month. My business is thriving. And my book is published.

$3,000 Clients + The Royal Family

And it’s rippling out to my clients, too. One of my newer clients signed her first $3,000 client. Another of my clients moved from California to Qatar and started working for the royal family. And yet another of my clients is working on his first album–and living his dream of playing music for money.

Big things can happen fast if you put your mind and heart (and action) to it.

I’m Opening My Calendar

This September, I’m doing something I only do 2 x per year: opening my calendar up for complimentary coaching conversations with me.

During this conversation, we work on big dreams, handling the challenges, and strategizing for the upcoming months AND the future. If something isn’t working in your life, we’ll go for it.

If this is something that will serve you, you’re invited to apply for a conversation with me below.

Before You Apply

This time with me will be complimentary. Take to heart that I only spend time with people who are as committed to their success and dreams as I am. That’s why the application process is in place and I limit the number of conversations like this I put in my calendar. It’s not there as some marketing gimmick. I’m 100 percent in my dedication to my people and I don’t offer this complimentary time with me to just anyone.

Big things can happen when people sit with me. During this coaching conversation, we’ll get into your opportunities, your dreams, your challenges. If something isn’t working for you in your life, we’ll go for it. This kind of conversation isn’t for everyone.

And, note that this call will be 2.5 hours, so if you’d like to do it you’ll need to set aside that much time.

My time is the most valuable thing I can give anyone.

The application form is below. Submitting it gets you in my inbox to be considered for a conversation. Once you submit it, you’ll hear from me. I’ll either let you know what I do won’t serve you, ask you more questions, or schedule your call.

I’m taking applications for a brief period. Applications are due by 5 pm PT Friday, September 23, 2016.

Love,

Lindsey

Sep 1, 2016 · Read More · Comment (1)

getting raw and exposed in this post. here’s a story about me you didn’t expect

sailing

I’m going to let you in on a secret.

It might shock those of you who say to me, write to me, or just silently think “Lindsey’s really got it all together.” Let me tell you a story that’s true.

If you connect with me on Facebook or Instagram, you might know that I recently went on a five-day sailing trip with my husband and my in-laws. I posted a few pictures of some of the moments. Shots of me on the first day with my hair blowing in the wind, the gorgeous city we were sailing away from in the background. The shiny and spotless boat. Shots of me and Matt—my husband—with the other couple who sailed with us for a few days, smiling. And another one, of me leaping into the ocean, that’s sparkling in the sun.

All of those moments are true. They all happened.

And so did this one.

Meltdown

I’m good for about two hours of limited movement. For example, the kind of limited movement that happens on a sailboat where your options are to lay down or sit down if you’re not standing at the helm. At the two-hour mark I start to get cranky. I feel like my bones and muscles have started to fuse together like too much 80s hairspray—the kind I used to use to stick my bangs up like a wall at the front of my forehead.

Getting up to attempt to navigate my way to the bathroom requires a 10-minute period of calisthenics, to get my body functioning again. If I try to get to the bathroom without the 10-minutes of calisthenics, I flail around, usually slamming into the railing that I’m supposed to hold onto as I head down the ladder. The first day of sailing, I always get a baseball sized bruise on my hip.

At the three-hour mark, I start to go into shut-down mode. Like that Star Wars humanoid robot guy C-P30 when they take his battery out. At this point I give up on pretending to be a functional person and embrace a nap.

The 4-Hour Mark

It’s at the four-hour mark that the biggest baddest transformation happens. If I wake up from my nap and we are still on the G.D. ocean, I start to lose it. I feel like a mini dictator has high jacked my brain. This mini dictator never speaks quietly. She only yells. And everything comes out as a demand. This mini dictator has never heard of being polite. She doesn’t give a crap about polite.

I try to reign her in. So that when my father-in-law asks me if I want to eat lunch before or after we stop in this bay my response can be “After would be great” instead of “I EAT LUNCH ON MY SCHEDULE! I’M NOT EATING LUNCH UNTIL I WANT TO EAT LUNCH! I MIGHT NEVER EAT LUNCH!” Note: this doesn’t always work.

The 8-Hour Mark

This true story happened after EIGHT HOURS on the boat. Eight. Hours.

I was sitting on the deck at the bow of the boat when we rounded the corner. Note: I think the bow is the front of the boat; if you know all these boat terms, I salute you. The corner was the lead-up to the bay we would be spending the night in. I was so ready to get off that shiny, clean, G.D. boat. Eight. Hours.

We round the corner and I’m searching for my saviour—the dock we’ll be tying up to for the night. The dock is my drug. The dock instantly soothes my inner dictator. She goes from tyrant to teddy bear. At this time, it’s not unusual for me to start hugging people.

But around this particular corner, there is no dock. No. Dock. There is a bouey. Congratulations if you can say that word the way it’s supposed to be said. Good for you. A bouey is a big round ball attached to the bottom of the ocean. You tie onto it and…that’s it. You float. In the water. Surrounded by water. On your boat. Which you’ve been on for EIGHT HOURS.

My Inner Dictator Loses Her Marbles

My inner dictator lost her marbles. She went bat-dung crazy. Inside my head she was throwing furniture around. She kept on repeating the same thing over, and over, and over. I’ll paraphrase: it was “W.T.F.?!!!!”

I managed to hold that in. I held in that inner dictator through force of will until after dinner, when we finally got off the G.D. boat. Holding that inner dictator in took so much out of me that I went silent. I was worried about what would come out if I opened my mouth. So I only opened it to put food in.

What? This is How I Always Walk

After dinner, we got in the dingy and motored on over to the one dock that’s in that bay. The dock no boat other than a dingy is allowed to tie on to. And from that dock we went for a walk through a very beautiful garden. Note: ‘walk’ is the normal word for the abnormal way I move when I can finally get off the G.D. boat. I look like a cross between an Olympic speed-walker and someone with a kind of Tourettes that causes them to break into lunges. I lunge-Olympic-speed-walked around the garden.

I lunge-Olympic-speed-walked until the sun went down. I lunge-Olympic-speed-walked around those landscaped pathways until the stars came out. Matt said “We gotta go back to the boat now.” And my inner dictator told him he was now dead to me. We got back in the dingy and motored back to the boat.

Notice that twice now I’ve told you about the motoring dingy. That’s important for later.

Morning Will Save Me

We went to bed. The only thing that got my inner dictator to go to sleep was the promise of yoga on the one dock in the bay. The one no other boat other than a dingy could tie up to. In the morning, I told my inner dictator, we will get into that dingy and motor on over to the dock and do yoga in the early morning sun. It will be beautiful. It will save us.

Morning came and me and my inner dictator got up. We were still on the G.D. boat. But the dock was coming. I could see it, winking over across the bay. I got my yoga mat. I got Matt up. We put the dingy in the water. And pulled the cord of the motor. And pulled the cord of the motor. And pulled the cord of the motor. Nothing happened.

The motor didn’t start. The crummy, useless, thoughtless dingy wouldn’t move. I sat in that dingy and my inner dictator’s rage nearly popped my eyeballs out. They started leaking tears. All was lost. It would be another hour after hour of not moving.

Then, I spotted them. The oars! The perfectly-designed, useful, thoughtful dingy had OARS. I stuck the oars into the holders. If you know the word for the things that hold the oars, good for you. Those oar-holders held those oars and I rowed my own self across the bay. I tied that dingy up to the one dock in this water. I climbed out. Spread out my yoga mat. Sat down in a cross-legged position. Settled my hands on my lap and started to focus on entering into that blissed out state where even my inner dictator is quiet.

Who is That Talking in My Head?

This is what I heard: “You can’t do yoga on this dock.” I ignored that voice. I’ve heard the self-judgey voice before. I ignore that voice.

I heard it again “You can’t do yoga on this dock.” NO, SELF-JUDGEY VOICE, I WILL NOT BE SWAYED. I AM DOING YOGA ON THIS DOCK!

“We’re not open yet.”

Pardon me?

“You can’t do yoga on this dock because we’re not open yet. If you want to do yoga, you can go somewhere else to do it.”

I opened my eyes. There was a girl, a teenager, in a garden uniform, standing at the end of my yoga mat. I squinted at her. I thought it might make her disappear. If I couldn’t see her.

She stayed standing at the end of my yoga mat, her radio crackling. My inner dictator was ready. She was primed. Oh boy, had she had it. So I didn’t open my mouth. I stood up, rolled up my yoga mat, untied the dingy, and got back in.

My Eyes Are Leaking

I rowed my way back into the middle of the bay. I pulled the oars in. And I cried. I cried until Matt called out to me from the boat to see if I was ok.

I was not ok.

Eight. Hours.

For the rest of the day, I spent most of my energy keeping my inner dictator contained. When my mother-in-law asked me if I wanted pancakes for breakfast I did not let my inner dictator yell “I DO NOT WANT PANCAKES! PANCAKES ARE DEAD TO ME!” When my father-in-law went over the plan for our sailing route to Salt Spring Island that day I did not let my inner dictator yell “I NEVER WANT TO SAIL AGAIN! SAILING IS DEAD TO ME!” When we saw a porpoise cresting beside the boat in the mid-morning and Matt pointed it out I did not let my inner dictator yell “I DO NOT CARE ABOUT PORPOISES! CARING IS DEAD TO ME!”

It Actually Happened

But then we got to the marina at Salt Spring Island. And we tied up at the dock. And I’d spent so much energy trying to keep my inner dictator contained that I knew if I didn’t get off that boat immediately she would take someone out. I wouldn’t be able to stop her.

So I made a rapid plan. I would gather my laptop, my book, my cell phone. I would let everyone know I needed to go do some work, that I had to find Wi-Fi. And I would spend hours away from the boat. Away. From. The. Boat. I started to gather my stuff. I felt my inner dictator rising up as each second passed. I called out to Matt. I’d told him the plan, and now I wanted to warn him. I wanted to warn him that I needed to get off the boat very quickly, or my inner dictator would blow. I wanted to let him know it was urgent. He could be my first lieutenant.

Matt didn’t hear me calling him from our cabin. He didn’t hear me above the “Oh how nice we’ve arrived, let’s all have a gin and tonic” chit-chat he was having with his parents. He didn’t hear me above the attention he was paying to his phone. As he searched for available Wi-Fi.

I tried to get his attention. I tried to tell him it was coming, that I wouldn’t be able to stop it. I tried to warn him.

I put the final object into my back-back. Zipped the zipper. Closed the clasp. Felt my inner dictator pressing against my lips.

And then Matt called out to me “You can get Wi-Fi right here. Right on the boat.”

I Lose My Marbles

That was it. I lost it.

I stood at the bottom of the ladder leading up to where Matt stood with his parents and I yelled “I. HAVE. TO. GET. OFF. THIS. BOAT!!!!”

I don’t remember getting off. I don’t remember how I got up the ladder, who I pushed past, or how I navigated the leap from the boat to the dock. I do remember lunge-Olympic-speed-walking all the way out of the marina.

Aug 24, 2016 · Read More · Comment

On Using Your Intuition in Your Business and Your Life

Tropical horizon abstract backgroundEver feel like you just want to slow down and let someone else take over? Read on.

Here’s the truth.

Yesterday as I was thinking of sending out a message to all of you, I got all plan’ey and master-mind’ey and ‘make things happen’ey. It’s an easy place for me to be. I’ve been a long-term planner ever since going to a high school where none of our year was mapped out for us–no mid-terms, no final exams, no deadlines for assignments. We created that our self, set our own deadlines and learning schedule, and then were in charge of making sure it happened.

So…old yang habits die hard.

Allowing for serendipity.

The idea of allowing for serendipity, that there may be something even better available if I surrendered to letting myself be guided, instead of only making my own plans take shape? That was a completely foreign concept.

And, it’s one I STILL need to remind myself of.

The truth is that yesterday I had on my to-do list to create a plan for August, and then into September, and beyond, into January.

I didn’t get to it, and I felt rushed, behind, and stressed.

When making a plan isn’t the plan

Today I said to myself, “Today, I will make my plan.”

But something else was destined to happen.

Because when I tuned in to get my Higher Self on board and have her guidance and insight into this master planning process what I got was this:

“Be patient.”
“Spend more time working less.”

And an image of me in a canoe, laying on my back, being carried.

When I said, “Yeah, but what about September? And then the months leading up to January?” my Higher Self said “Do September in September. This is about August.”

Right and true

There’s a way that I feel in my body when something is very right and true–you can feel your own right and true in your body, too–and I felt it in response to this messaging. It doesn’t make sense. It’s counter to what we are continually presented with as the way to succeed, the way to achieve your dreams, the way to make it all happen.

And, I remember.

I remember time after time when I have surrendered to this great loving source of wisdom. And what has happened when I have.

The things I’ve wanted most have always come from taking this approach.

The approach of trust, of attunement, and openness to serendipity.

A letter of loving

So, this is a letter of loving–to you and your Higher Self. May you be willing to step back, allow, and be carried.

With love, and light ahead,

Lindsey

Aug 4, 2016 · Read More · Comment

The Power of Surrender

No More Striving Have you ever felt tired of ‘doing’? The rushing, the striving, the setting of goals and making them happen. The continual push towards a new bar–that you keep on raising higher. Me too. My Surrender Experiment Last year, inspired by other women I know and Michael Singer’s book The Surrender Experiment, I…

Jul 7, 2016 · Read More · Comment

magical time: what happened when I stopped believing there wasn’t enough

If you never feel like you have enough time, if you feel like you’re always racing, that you can’t rest–read on. This is for you. I was there, too. And then, something magical happened. Picture This: My husband walks in the door at the end of the day. He is happy. Happy to be home,…

Jun 6, 2016 · Read More · Comment
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