Percolating

Yes we are burbling along in the process. More like lava hotly belching out of some wrenching, earth-shitting groan. But we'll go for burbles. MH is in Michigan again, having survived a trip to Toronto to visit his mother. My daughter is doing the school-work-traumatic-breakup-with- psycho-boyfriend-thing.

I have the house to myself. I can walk into any room I want and still breathe. I can play "let's imagine" what the seminar business all grown up would be like. Let's imagine the treatment table spends most of its time folded up behind the piano. Let's imagine Two Full Classes a month 9 months out of the year, with One each in November and December (none in July. We don't work in July anymore). Let's imagine I'm earning a real living again. Let's imagine I grow enough of a business persona that every nutjob who emails me does not get under my skin. Let's imagine I don't spend any more time or energy avoiding those emails when I can just handle them like business information, nothing personal to them at all, and get them answered. Just sharing information!!

Let's get very big and real and imagine that I have a real personal assistant who takes care of these things for me. She might even answer the phone! She becomes my satellite brain and actually helps the business grow. Someday, she might even make my travel arrangements.

Let's imagine I can get my focus back, to ride this wave of prosperity and abundance that has ALWAYS carried me, and rip off the choke chain of disbelief that somehow got slipped over my head when I wasn't looking. And slap the hand of the one who put it there. Those are your belief restrictions, not mine.