Miss Mandie

Something extraordinary has occurred for me the past few days. I discovered “real” people on the internet.

I’m not talking about friends on facebook. Or the people blogging about their lives from their basements. Or the people you find on loved up chat rooms.

I’m talking about people who are making money from doing what they do best by being “real” about it. I mean, really, real. Like talking to you like you’re a human being real, rather than just a potential sale.

This snowball of discovery started with Naomi at IttyBiz.com. I found her when I was stumbling through the internet looking for information to help me with my marketing assignment.

First thing I noticed about Naomi is that she is honest.

Brutally honest. About marketing. Business. Her life.

She also uses the f* word in her blog.

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It was a big week last week. Never mind Europe coming to a grinding halt (news that even reached me here in my usual oblivious seclusion), the big event last week in my world was the final of “So, You Think You Can Dance” in Australia. Now, you wouldn’t consider me a tv junkie in any shape or form – you know I don’t own one. But a ritual that spontaneously erupted in my life the past couple of months was a trek down to the bottom of the valley to one my forest neighbour’s place on a Wednesday night to get our weekly fix of these dancing superstar wannabes. We laughed, we cried, we sat in awe, we disagreed with the judges, we sided with our favourites, we clapped. It was a rich experience for me, made even the more delectable by dinner being cooked for me each week (thanks Janine and Lisa!).

2000 books in the next 100 days

With over 1 million viewers tuning in regularly each week (how do they work out that btw!?), I’ve been thinking about what made this show so spine tingling enticing for me and for others? My guess is that something magical occurs for us when we have the opportunity to be involved in the journey of people pursuing their dreams. People unafraid to give something their all, to bare their ambitions to all and sundry and channel their energy and focus into making their mark in the world, in whatever way makes their heart sing. This show gave us front row seats to witnessing these soul inspiring individuals on that journey. Along with tapping into an essential part of human nature; despite what we might be lead to believe by the nightly news, humans love supporting other humans. Let’s face it, we get a buzz from cheering one another along in life. A spark occurs from the depths of our being that recognises we’re all in this together.

Which brings me to what all this has to do with Stephanie Dale’s, My Pilgrim’s Heart. Well…Stephanie was the wonderful CouchSurfer who invited me into her home over a year ago. A home that became my home, despite her departure soon after my arrival. Yes, she was the synchronistic link to me making The Forest my home. Thanks for that Steph! Not only is she a kindred spirit to me on this life journey, but she is also one very talented writer. Her book captured my imagination as I journeyed with her on each page through her walk from Rome to Albania, and the inner journey she travelled about men and relationships. She has now embarked on the journey of baring her ambitions to the world, and as a self-publisher, she is channelling her energy into getting this book into the hands of people who will love such an honest account of what it means to walk thousands of kilometres, while trying to work out what a marriage means.

What I love most about Steph is how she has approached this “one step at the time”. She has said on numerous occasions its about the journey and not the outcome for her, but that has not stopped her giving this her all and setting her sights high. With the first print run of 1000 books moved in the first month, she has now set the intention of selling 2000 books in the next 100 days. You can join this book’s journey on Facebook. She is even offering free postage up until Mother’s Day if you buy online. So here I am, cheering from the side lines, in awe and clapping Steph. I’ll support you and do what I can to help you pursue this passion of yours. Go for it! Oh, and for those wanting a great Mother’s Day gift, or a birthday present for your ma or wife, or you want to just support someone I care about – go buy it!

I should have known this tree wasn’t going to last forever. My track record in gardening would have been enough of an indication I would kill it eventually. But I had one. Oh, such a glorious, abundant money tree, so easily accessible through the convenience of my trusty electronic card. I lived for three years with my money tree; the tree that sprouted from my decision to sell up and hand over the keys to my inner city apartment and undo the chains that were around my neck from its mortgage. I travelled, I volunteered, I socialised, I soul searched, I learnt Reiki, I daydreamed, I studied. All the while giving very little thought to the exchange of my time for any currency.

Then one day, last October, with an unexpected car repair bill (the consequence of the 10,000km road trip to the centre of this great country of mine), it died. No more. The tree just fizzled up and died.

Now you would think that for most people, it would mean the shake up to a reality that might involve full-time work and the end of the holiday as such. Not I; she who believes in the law of attraction!  My life didn’t have to change given my magic money tree had gone. Thankfully the Australian Government would support me now that I was by their standards, or by anyone’s standards, dead broke. Things were going along fairly smoothly. I sold items of any value off that I wouldn’t miss too much. I picked up a few hours here and there at the local health food store. I even managed to work full-time for one week back in February. The Universe was doing a good job of looking after me from week-to-week.

But suddenly, as what little money I had from the things I sold disappeared, and the few hours I did work dried up, I noticed that in actual fact, I was more than dead broke. I was now careering backwards into a debt ditch with no visible means of digging myself out (a metaphor made even more appropriate if you know of my previous track record with driving). But what’s going on here…I believed in the law of attraction!? So Universe, where’s my bloody money!?

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The proposed "reiki studio"

I have lots of business ideas. Most of which are shelved until I finish my life coaching qualification. But one I had seemed like the perfect solution to making use of a great little studio on my property and getting me some extra cash while I am studying. I wanted to convert the guest studio into a reiki studio. I had the view I could entice some city gals to have a “girl’s afternoon” at my place. They could sip tea on the verandah. Enjoy the views. Be still and calm, while they took it in turn to have a reiki and massage session with yours truly. I thought it was a great idea!

It escalated into an even better idea when I ran into one of my neighbours in The Forest who is also a reiki practitioner. A practitioner in need of a space to practice. Perfect! She could use the space too for a small contribution. I was getting excited about creating this beautiful space. I even managed to compromise with my landlord about reducing the number of colours in the room…I got him down from four to two. We settled on keeping the green and blue. I could repaint the purple and yellow. I was going for a “serene” look, I told him in earnest.

Then, in a style that has permeated my entire career, largely in the world of communications and management, I decided to be open and honest and let others know what I had planned and confirm that it was okay for me to go ahead with this idea. It was an interesting process, being passed along from person to person. I quickly realised that no-one wanted to be that final person to give me the ultimate permission to proceed.

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