THE LOVE:

Over and over again here’s the story I always hear from wellness practitioners about why they decided to study what it is they currently practice: One day it occurred to them that if they ever truly wanted to party with Lindsay Lohan and Paris Hilton that they would have to A. have a job that made a TON of money and B. have a job that was sexy and flashy enough that all the VIP clubs would want to take them straight to the front of the line and comp them all the overpriced champagne they could drink.

So, with that goal in mind they sat down at a desk and made a list of all the jobs that would fulfill both requirements A and B. Turns out acupuncturist, massage therapist, naturopathic doctor, yoga teacher, therapist [enter your modality here] wound up being at the top of the list, so off they went to school and upon graduation they started partying with spoiled celebrities and lived happily ever after…

Sound familiar?

No.

Exactly. When you decided to study whatever it is you practice some part of your being- your heart, your body, your gut, your mind, your spirit, or perhaps all of the above- called out to you and said, “Yes. This.” and you dove into it not for any promise of what life would look like after graduation, but for the love.

And it was easy to bask in the love while you were in school. You were surrounded by like minded people who shared your same passion and you were all diving headlong into work that was coming straight from your heart.

But I’ve found that after graduation things change. There’s still the love, of course, but it often gets silenced by a sneaking and very unpleasant feeling that you’re now in the business of convincing people to pay you. Which sucks. It’s hard to love that feeling.

I think what happens is a version of “deer in headlights” syndrome. There you are, basking in the glow of a concentrated period of time spent with colleagues just gleefully geeking out on what you love about what you do, and then you come back to Earth. Where not everyone knows just how endlessly fascinating fascial anatomy, or Udayana Badhna, or the joys of using intersection needling points can be, and so you wind up feeling like an arm-twister.

What are you supposed to say to potential clients? “No really! This work can change your life! Just hand over some money and you’ll see- it’s amazing!” Depending on the tone you’ve become a used car salesman at best and a cult leader at worst. And so you retreat. You hope that your love for your work and the tremendous value it has to offer will shine through, but you’re not sure how to get the word out without feeling like a sleazoid.

THE PROBLEM:

Our schools, while great at teaching us how to be highly skilled practitioners, seem to be at a loss about mentioning that we need to actually know how to get clients through the door (i.e. manage to pay our bills doing this thing we love so much and are really pretty good at.)

Don’t get me wrong, I love our schools for creating places where more and more generations of practitioners can be trained to positively impact the world. I love, love love that. I adore it. Really. However, I also wish- forgive me for my bluntness- that they would take their heads out of their collective asses and find a way to give this skill set to their students before graduation (really, honesty give them what they need, not mess around with telling people useless things like, “You should have a business card.”)

And so here’s my rant. I recently received an email from an acupuncturist where she told me about how her school constantly repeated the mantra, “In 5 years, 50% of you won’t be working as acupuncturists anymore” to the students. That is all. They never followed that sentence with one that started, “so here’s how you can avoid being a part of that 50%…” Gee thanks guys, the future’s feeling pretty bright now! Here’s my tuition check- or shall I just flush it down the toilet!? To the schools I would like to respectfully say: Don’t take our money, put us through your schools, tell us how we’ll likely fail, and then send us out into the world with no attention paid at all to how we might avoid becoming the aforementioned statistic.

What is wrong with this picture? Why are they such defeatists? What do they think the awful statistics are about? That people who studied acupuncture don’t actually care about acupuncture? That acupuncture doesn’t actually have much to offer people? That they tend to have lazy or flaky graduates? Or could it maybe, just possibly, be because people who love what they do and are committed to sharing it with the world enter that whole private practice thing with little to no idea of how to do that successfully? Maybe? Ya think? Ok, rant over.

AND SO…

In general I find that complaining about what other people should be doing is an ineffective strategy for creating positive change. I can’t really think of many times that straight up complaining got anyone very far. Imagine if Rosa Parks only complained loudly and ceaselessly amongst her friends about how unjust sitting in the back of the bus was, without ever plopping herself in the front of that bus and thereby claiming her own power to make a change? The former strategy wasn’t likely to change history. The latter? Pretty effective.

Ok, so I’m no Rosa Parks. I think that’s fairly obvious. However, because of my own experience of struggling through my first three years in practice and then falling in love with practice building (no one is more surprised than me…) there does happen to be one thing I can do to make some change. I figure if I can pass on the tools and create a place for a supportive community of complementary and alternative medicine providers to gather, then maybe we’ve got a shot at changing the lame statistics. And if we change the lame statistics, then we’ll have a lot more practitioners around and a lot more people getting the help they need.

And so I built the Practice Abundance Course. It’s an online course that is the result of nearly ten years in practice, starting three practices from scratch, one ebook, one mega manuscript for a printed book, a year and a half blogging about practice building, and lots of conversations with practitioners who felt just as helpless and hopeless as I did when I was starting out. I designed it to be the FULL course that our schools left out, coupled with community warmth and support.

It will be open to new students from March 17th to March 20th (kicking it off between St. Patrick’s Day and the first day of spring seemed fortuitous enough…) and I’ll only be taking on a small number of students this first round. The soonest it would open again is this summer, so if you think this might be for you I’d get on the list to get all the delicious freebie information about it that I’ll start sending out this week.

Happy practice building!

Every once and a while I have an epiphany that I’ve had maaaaany times before, and I realize that maybe (just maybe) I should listen to it this time.So what was it? “Do the stuff you’re good at and hire others for the stuff that they’re good at, so that you don’t waste your time on learning curves that you don’t care about.”

It sounds so simple, no big deal right? Well underlying that epiphany was the more crucial, “The little part of your brain that is terrified of change- the lizard brain- will shape shift in any way it needs to in order to stop all progress and make you think you are sane for doing so.”

Let me back up a little bit. On January 14th to 15th I was in New York City to go to a Triiibes event (a two day meet up of those of us who are on Seth Godin’s social network, Triiibes), and then to grab dinner with Seth himself and the rest of the Triiibe (!), and go to his first talk about his new book, Linchpin. I read Linchpin on the train ride down and then lived and breathed the ideas in it for two very inspiring days. If you haven’t read Linchpin, first, go get a copy. Second, here’s a very brief synopsis of the ideas that I’m referring to in this post:

Here’s what Seth’s book is a call to action for: Do work that matters, solve interesting problems, connect, create, lead, give the world a gift (preferably several)- in other words, be a linchpin.

Here’s what’s holding us back: First, you don’t have to be a worker drone for the industrial era/capitalist machine anymore, but unfortunately it is what you were trained to be in school. Schools evolved to create complaint workers. (”Color inside the lines!”)

Second, your lizard brain, otherwise known as “the resistance”, is the first part of our brain that evolved millions of years ago. Its main concern is keeping you safe- so it fears ALL change like it’s a life or death issue, and takes any steps it can to stop your progress.

So I leave New York feeling full of clarity and excitement since I also happen to have this big project brewing that I want to launch in March. What perfect timing! I’m finally putting all I’ve learned from my 10 years in practice, blogging here for over a year, one mega manuscript for a printed book, one free ebook, and many conversations with my fellow CAM providers about their own triumphs and trials into one master place: an online course and community on how to grow and sustain a practice that not only pays your bills, but also feeds your spirit.

Yup, it’s a biggie (more info to follow in my next post…) and I’m feeling pretty confident that my fresh perspective on the lizard brain will keep it from interfering in my course. I’ve got your number lizard brain! This project is going to launch on the day I promised it would launch and no little internal saboteur will get in my way!

Turns out I’ve gotten very good at spotting certain signs that I’m being controlled by the lizard brain. When I spend an hour at the computer constantly cycling between checking my email, Facebook, and Twitter- the lizard is in control. When I start off working on something essential and 15 minutes later I notice that I’ve gone down some rabbit hole and am doing something pointless like cleaning out my sock drawer- yup, lizard brain. And when I keep complaining about how crazy busy I am (I’m a single mom! I have to keep my practice afloat! I need to write on my blog! I’m trying to launch this big thing!) and yet, somehow, I miraculously find time to hang out with my friends and to never miss an episode of 30 Rock? Lizard brain.

Honestly I’m in awe at how much progress I’ve made since reading Linchpin. It’s amazing how much less time things take when you separate out the pointless time wasters from the meaningful work.

This is where my lizard brain went undercover and got me.

Lizard brain (in disguise as sane brain): “Well you know Brooke, if you’re going to build this thing you might as well do it right and build the whole thing on your own from scratch this time. It’ll save you money and you’ll learn a lot about the technical details.”

Brooke (thinking this is her sane brain): “That’s a great idea! I’d feel so accomplished and proud of myself, PLUS then I’d have an excuse to waste endless hours on some crap that I don’t care about and am no good at, which will keep me from doing the important stuff. Thanks, sane brain, for helping me to find a loophole to get out of all this progress I’ve been making!”

Yeah, it didn’t go so well. At the end of all the frustrating time spent trying to understand CSS I had exactly no website, and lots of time lost on the important stuff that I actually enjoy.

Lizard brain: 1
Brooke: 1

For now it’s a tie. I’ve hired the lovely Taryn Wallis over at Phenomenoodle to set up some of the stuff I’ll need on a platform that I know and love (Wordpress). Time to keep it simple. Thanks to Taryn for seeing my distress flags on Twitter and reaching out- glad to have you on my team.

For the rest of you, dear readers, where can you get help on the stuff that’s not your strength and save yourself the angst already?

And- most importantly!- where is your lizard brain shape shifting and keeping you from doing the important work? How can you get back to it?

Parting tip one: my lizard brain and I have been talking lately as in, “Hi Lizard Brain, I know you’re scared and threatened and all, but I really don’t think I need to check my email for the 20th time this hour. I’m pretty sure nothing important has come through. But thanks.” It’s working (for now…)

Parting tip two: The single best time management technique that I’ve found is the Pomodoro technique. It’s what’s kept time wasters at near zero, and I can make progress without feeling like I’m beholden to some super complex organizational/time management protocol. It’s simple and it works like a charm.

I’m a big fan of growing your practice in a way that’s a fit with your personality. One of my core passions is that we should get rid of our imagined unpleasant practice building activities and ask ourselves to get a wee bit more creative. If you hate public speaking couldn’t you start a blog? If you hate dropping cash on some ad, couldn’t you introduce yourself to your community in other ways?That said, I got on my “you don’t have to do the practice building activities you hate” soapbox after a couple of disastrous attempts that I made very early in my first practice.

Hilarious “What the hell were you thinking” story # 1:

Enter Brooke’s deluded internal voice:
“Hey Brooke, I know you detest public speaking and you get all freaked out and deer in headlight-y even at the thought of it, but why don’t you go on down to that meeting of local chiropractors (none of whom you’ve ever met) and give a talk on just how great Rolfing is? You know, because you get nervous and shy in front of groups of people you’ve never met and you’re a new grad whose ability to talk clearly about the benefits of Rolfing is still working itself out? Doesn’t that sound great?”

And here’s how it turned out:
A group of men who’ve all been in practice for, and known one another for, eons meet up and are sharing that warm familiarity that this kind of history brings with it. Everyone is asking after everyone else’s kids, inside jokes abound, you get the idea.

I show up, the 25 year old woman who’s just moved to town and recently graduated from The Rolf Institute and I timidly (barely) introduce myself to the group.

After they all get seated and their friendly banter dies down, I clear my throat, flush bright purple, begin shaking and sweating, and squeak out a few words about Rolfing. I can’t remember for the life of me what I actually said, but I can assure you the gist went something like this, “Rolfing is really great. And it probably is beneficial alongside chiropractic. And I like it. You should too probably. I just moved here and I don’t know anyone and I don’t have any clients and I’m dyin’ out here guys so if you could please make some clients magically appear on my doorstep I’d be really grateful. They’d be sure to ask you why you sent them to this weird nervous girl, but still, it would help me to eat this month. Thanks.”

I wish I could track down one of those guys so that they could attest to the fact that I am in no way, shape, or form exaggerating here. It was that bad. But I can’t track them down because, bizarrely, none of them ever referred to me or spoke with me again.

Hilarious “What the hell were you thinking story” # 2:

Enter Brooke’s deluded internal voice:
“Hey Brooke, I know that chiropractic talk was awful, but this time one of your clients actually invited you to this gathering of local people/political fundraiser type-deal. Sure you’ve never met any of them before and you still get nervous surrounded by strangers and that whole debilitating shyness thing takes over, but I’m sure this time it’s gonna be great! These people are going to be so psyched that you showed up with so many business cards to hand out!”

And here’s how it turned out:
I do get some points for progress because at least I wasn’t giving a presentation on Rolfing. But I was there to talk it up, so I timidly mentioned to everyone that I met that I had a new Rolfing practice in town. That is, until the saucy lady with the dramatic gestures heard the word “Rolfing” from across the room and started yelling towards me, “Rolfing! Rolfing! Oh my God!” (This was not in a delighted or happy tone. Her tone skewed more towards horrified.)

You haven’t met this lovely party-goer before, so you don’t know just how commanding and over the top her gestures are. So I’ll tell you this, she now had the attention of literally everyone there, and they were all forming a circle around her. Once she had everyone’s full attention she then began telling them exactly what Rolfing was all about: “It’s like you’re a chicken being de-boned! It’s awful! It’s practically abuse. Horrible! Horrible!”

Now folks, first off, um this is not true. But Rolfing has this old school reputation for being intense (we’ve evolved, seriously) so by now I’m used to the occasional outburst like this (but no where nearing the fevered pitch of this one). These days when the Rolfing-is-so-painful storyline comes up I can laugh with them, talk about it, and soon everyone is giggling and at ease.

But back then? No. I was super sensitive and terrible at rolling with this kind of thing.

She polished me off by asking me what I was thinking moving from Boston to open a practice in Sonoma- implying with very little subtlety that Sonoma didn’t take kindly to outsiders on their turf.

I drove home crying. Good times.

Ok, so I have good reason to preach about taking on practice building activities that feel like a fit for you. That one was learned in the fire.

However, sometimes it’s worth expanding the old comfort zone a little. Sorta a good tip for life in general, I think. It’s been many, many years since those experiences and I recently found myself actually considering teaching a workshop at my favorite local yoga studio.

The problem is, when I sat down to think about what I’d be saying to all the people who would show up for it, I drew a blank. Rolfing is experiential, yet I couldn’t exactly tell a room full of 30 people that they’d each get a session in the 2 hour workshop.

I finally hit on a compromise that allowed me to get in front of a room of people again, but to do it from my strength- i.e. introducing people to my hands and my quality of touch, not some blah, blah, blah about why they should want to pay me for Rolfing.

My dear friend Ellen Lenson teaches an amazing restorative yoga class, and one bonus of restorative (among its many) is that people are in supported, passive poses for long periods of time. Just the kind of thing that’s perfect for a little touch!

I asked Ellen if I could assist her in her class by giving her students a little hands-on work in their poses and she was game. So last Wednesday I got in front of a room full of 30 people and introduced myself as the new Rolfer in town for the first time since the two California debacles (it only took 9 years, but whatever…)

And it was great! Just a short little “this is who I am and why I’m here” intro and then I got to connect with people in the best way I know how- by working on them. The result was that I gave out all the business cards that I brought (they were requested, not foisted upon people), I have one new client who has already come in, and had a lot of really lovely and thoughtful conversations about Rolfing with some of the students after the class.

I’ll be there every Wednesday now, challenging my “stand up in front of a group” fears, and easing in to some new practice building skills.

What could you do to widen the comfort zone circle a bit?

* It’s long, I know, but I’m baring my soul here people. Feel free to print it out to save you from screen-staring.

Flash back about thirteen years ago and you’d find me pretty beat down physically. I had a jaw that was completely locked shut and chronic pain in my spine and head that was severe enough that I spent some days focusing simply on getting out of bed. Ugh, I still remember the recurring nightmare that someone had bolted a thick, heavy, steel helmet into my skull and I was fruitlessly trying to find a way to pry it off, unable to even lift my head from the weight and pain of it. These were not my brightest hours.

All this pain and body yuckiness had been (most likely) caused by a birth injury, so I had grown up with some form of chronic pain and seizures since childhood. As a child all the doctors I went to simply scratched their heads, finding it hard to believe that a child could have chronic pain. “Growing pains” they’d say. Seizures they could believe and I was endlessly tested and medicated, but the pain didn’t factor in for them. My family and I didn’t know that there was anywhere to turn other than conventional medicine, so there were a lot of years spent with head scratching MDs.

I don’t mean to turn this into a mythical story- I wasn’t born with a debilitating disease that I had to struggle with. Many are, and I don’t mean to boo hoo my situation into something bigger than it was. I was simply born with a glitch.

Because this glitch had always been with me, it took me until I was this broken, at age twenty-two, to realize that not everyone was feeling the way I was. My pain wasn’t normal. Something was off.

I went the only route I knew how to take and found a doctor who specialized in Temporal Mandibular Joint Dysfunction. He was a part of a new clinic out of Tufts Dental Hospital in Boston that was treating severe TMJ without surgery.

Meeting Dr. Murad Padamsee changed my life (and you thought I’d be bashing the docs… nah, they’re lifesavers too). He changed my life not only because he helped me to get my jaw open again- and without sharp pointy instruments and a titanium jaw replacement, yay!- but also because he realized that complete healing has to take into consideration the whole patient.

Because my pain wasn’t improving, he sent me off on a quest to find some good bodywork (other than a vague idea about massage, I didn’t really know what he meant) and meditation classes. That he saw the whole of me, and sent me off to find the things that would help, was profound.

I contacted Joe Wheatley, a Rolfing practitioner, feeling nervous and seriously fatalistic. I had spent more than a year now traveling an hour each way from Providence to Boston to see specialists three to four days per week, and this was on top of college and a part time job. I was ridiculously exhausted and didn’t have it in me to undertake a new quest. I wanted to get better. Now.

I remember telling Joe on the phone that I was truly at the end of my rope and that if he didn’t think he could help me that he really should just let me know so that I could find someone who could. Joe and I are friends now, so I can tell you that the man loves a challenge. He just told me to come on in for one session, and that if I didn’t feel any result at all, he wouldn’t take money from me. That felt like a pretty solid deal, so off I went into the wilderness of Rhode Island for my very first Rolfing session.

After that session I not only paid Joe, but I felt quite sure that if he had required that I sign over my first born child in order to could continue the work, I would have (fortunately no such deal was struck- my firstborn is pretty dang cute).

I could turn my head to the right for the first time in years and I felt my pain reduce by an astonishing degree with just that one session. Joe and this magical Rolfing stuff had found a way to take the steel helmet off, which was pretty freaking euphoric for me.

I knew that day that I could be free and the words that my mind kept screaming to me as I drove home were, “Why the hell didn’t I know this existed before!!” A lifetime spent trying to ignore the pain when there was help for me all along seemed ridiculous. There’s nothing that pisses me off more than needless suffering. It’s, well, needless.

Yesterday afternoon I was sitting in my local yoga studio, Fresh Yoga, in their wide-open and gorgeously light filled space. I was one of about twenty students who had shown up for a workshop on how Alexander Technique can be incorporated into one’s yoga practice.

I sat on my mat and watched Rachel, my Alexander teacher, work with the first student in front of the class. As she worked I watched the student light up and have that series of a-has that we can all have when we find a way to be more happily inhabiting our bodies. She got giddy and looked like she might cry for joy. I know this moment well.

As I watched this woman light up a wave of extreme gratitude washed through me. It was actually kind of shocking in how intense it was. It was like this physical warmth that ran right through me and said loudly (yes, I’m hearing voices now), “Thank you, thank you, thank you for letting me serve this community.”

In many ways, that “why the hell didn’t I know this existed before!!” voice has never gone away. I want more people to have that giddy, cry for joy moment that this student was having in the Alexander workshop and that I had after my first Rolfing session (and many times since). To steal a favorite Alan Keightley quote from my friend Chris Guillebeau, “Once in a while it really hits people that they don’t have to experience the world in the way they have been told to.”

I became a Rolfing practitioner nine years ago because I wanted to contribute to the number of a-ha moments going around. In recent years, I decided that if I can help more wellness providers to give more people that moment- then the word will spread in a much bigger way and there will be less of the maddening needless suffering.

That decision led me here, to the creation of The Well Practice.

So this Thanksgiving I’m thankful for a birth injury, chronic pain, all the people and work that led me out of it and into a whole new world.

And mostly thank you to all of you. Thanks for doing the work that you do and spreading more a-has and healing goodness around. It’s needed. Keep it up.

What are you feeling grateful for as we roll into Thanksgiving?

I’m not usually the type to dedicate blog posts to people. This isn’t the great American novel, after all. But these people have been such glowing examples of teaching as they learn, that I have to give a shout out to them for their inspiration in writing this post. If you haven’t yet discovered Lissa Boles, Chris Guillebeau, Mark Silver, or Jonathan Fields (and especially this gorgeous post of his that was so moving to me) please go discover them.

I have to come out of the closet on being a wee bit uncomfortable with the “practice building expert” role that I’ve stepped into. Yes, I feel like I have the experience and know-how to effectively (and passionately) teach people how to grow their practices. And yes, I have a deep desire to turn my experiences into something tangible and useful that can contribute to other people’s lives.

What I don’t have is the desire to guru-ize myself. And when you step into a role as a writer and a teacher, there’s this funny underlying pressure to adopt the guru track.

Let me clarify. There are real gurus in the world. By “real gurus” I mean spiritual masters who are kind enough to be patient with those of us who are behind them in our own evolutionary paths. People who are worthy of a devout respect.

The kind of guru I’m talking about though are the false gurus we see everywhere. The people who are eager to step into the “I have this all figured out” role and who want to step on that stage and preach to you about how you can be as “empowered” as they are. They fan the flames of their own egos and work hard to convince the people in their audience that they are worthy of the pedestal they’ve put themselves on.

This kind of guru- who usually has little to no spiritual message but more often preaches about making dollar signs appear in your life- is so ubiquitous now that the idea that anyone should ever be on a pedestal goes largely unchallenged.

The pedestal says, “I’ve completely figured out what you seek to learn.” I’d like to argue that there is no official, concrete endpoint of figured-outness that we attain. In short, the pedestal is bullshit.

If we’re honest and awake to life, we’re always on some new learning curve. Teachers are people who may be ahead of you on any particular trajectory- whether that be growing a successful practice, having successful relationships, or any number of other things that we seek to learn- but they aren’t finished learning.

Without the admission that  we’re still on that trajectory with our students, we get lost in this flashy ego place. Worse, we stop learning because we decide we’ve arrived at the endpoint and we stop engaging.

In truth, there’s always the missteps, the bumbling around, and the epiphanies that come along with life and learning. Don’t buy the “I have it all figured out” guru message that we all get sold. We all learn from one another at our different stages, and we just keep on keeping on.

And so, in the spirit of un-guruing myself, here’s what I had going for me that allowed me to grow a full practice in a month:

Preparation.

Yes, it all boils down to one very un-sexy word. Lately this is the A number one thing on my list of what’s needed for success in anything. Which kind of sucks, because it’s not all the flashy things that we’re told we need (especially in America) like charisma or a a will of steel. And it requires a lot of patience. And work. The myth of overnight success and riches is, well, a myth.

My preparation for this particular endeavour came in the form of nine years in practice, and this being the third time I’ve started a new practice from scratch. So much for overnight success. My ability to grow a full practice in a month wasn’t really about that month, it was about the nine years that preceeded it. 

That means that this time around I got to skip all the wandering down alleys that are dead ends. I cut out so much of the wasted time, the heartache, and the confusion simply because I’ve done it before and figured out what works.

I knew how to pick a town that would enthusiatically greet a Rolfer, I knew how to pick the right office location and the right office mates, I knew how to grow my referral network I knew how to make a website and how to write great copy to attract my ideal clients. I knew what the hell an ideal client was, for that matter, and that I would talk directly to them. All this stuff I learned, slowly, drip by drip, over many years.

On the other hand, with this website and related projects that I’m working on to shine a big ol’ light on the holistic health world, I’m four years into what still feels like a new learning curve (The Well Practice hasn’t been up for four years. But the preparation that got me here has been four years and counting).

In this I’m still that person who is wandering into alleys that have dead ends. However, these days I can look way down that street and see the brick wall, whereas before I would have kept walking until I smacked into the brick wall. Only then would I have noticed that I should turn around and walk aaaaall the way back, nursing the big lump on my forehead. So that’s progress. I don’t fear brick walls as much any more- each lump on my forehead taught me something new that has allowed me to keep moving forward.

Fortunately and unfortunately, there is no over the rainbow. Keep stumbling, keep learning, that’s what we’re all here for. That’s where the juciness of life is. I’ll be stumbling into alleys and epiphanies right along with you.

As I’ve been building my third practice I’ve been thinking a lot about what it is that has helped me to grow so quickly in a crap economy because- as ya’ll know- I’m trying to bring back the gems to you here so you can do the same for yourself.

It keeps striking me that most of my clients are so voraciously spreading the word about me because they really like me and feel comfortable around me.

Aaaaaaaaargh! I know, I know- “Hear ye! Hear ye! Let it ring out across the land that clients will spread the word about you if they like you!” What earth-shattering information!

The thing is, I don’t think my clients liking me is so much about me being a helluva gal, but rather because over the years I’ve found a way to be comfortable in my skin and to let my authentic self shine through, rather than putting on the practitioner mask.

“The practitioner mask” is my phrase for the wise, evolved, beatific, angelic thing so many of us do (and man oh man I was the worst offender of this for years) when we’re new in practice and we just reeeeally hope that people will like us.

I’ll be sure to tell the story of my hard-won lessons on dropping the practitioner mask (otherwise known as the please, please like me mask) in another post- but for this post I want to focus on all the happy side effects of dropping said mask. Namely, growing a practice more quickly, with less effort, and filling it up solely with people who you totally adore working with.

Honestly, I’ve hesitated to write this post. First off, I don’t particularly want to be another voice in the authenticity parade- because, all right already- we get it, and lots of people are talking about it in a way that’s much more effective than I can. And second, it reminded me of a book I picked up that had a particularly eye-rolling effect on me.

About a year ago when I was kicking off this Well Practice adventure I did what any good entrepreneur would do and I decided to check out the competition. I headed to Amazon and bought a handful of the top selling practice building books. One of these books (which shall remain nameless) was more like a leaflet that restated some version of “If people like you, and you’re a good person, your practice will grow” on every page. What a nightmare! First of all- way to set yourself up for self-loathing: “Uh-oh, my practice is quiet. It must be because I’m an asshole.” Second of all- “be nice and it will all work out” is not practice building advice. At all.

So let me clarify, this isn’t about being “nice” or “likeable”, because when we try to take on cookie cutter qualities, we’re just finding a new mask.

People have such sensitive trip wires for inauthentic behavior these days- after years of falseness in advertising, government, you name it- we’re all like little tractor beams searching for someone who isn’t busy trying to seem like something, but rather is whatever they are.

So how to be whatever you are? Well, this is an ongoing process for me. I feel like my voice started to shine through on this blog only recently, and many of my practice building choices in New Haven were a risk for me of really communicating only in my voice- no trace of practitioner mask allowed- and it’s paid off. But there was that moment of tossing myself off the cliff.

It can be so terrifying to be authentic because then we’re being judged on our true selves. Putting up a false front can be so much more comforting in that we’re defended by the mask.

Yet there’s this magic side effect of being authentic that means we understand a little more clearly that the world comes in lots of different flavors, and not all flavors will be attracted to you, just as you’re not attracted to everything that’s out there in the world. The benefit is that the people who are attracted are truly your Right People (in the words of the lovely Havi Brooks): the people who you’re delighted to spend your workdays with and who can most benefit from your work.

Case in point- I saw a new client yesterday who is a very highly regarded local massage therapist. When I met her I saw instantly that she had a distinct comfort in her own skin- she wasn’t putting on any airs- and I giggled to myself thinking that she was the perfect example of this authentic self I had been pondering for my blog post. How fortuitous that she landed on my doorstep that day! Then I mentioned that so many people in town had absolutely glowing things to say about her, and she gushed in the most genuinely enthusiastic voice, “Oh! I just have the best clients imaginable. I’m so lucky to work with them.” Coincidence? I think not. By being herself, she’s out there drawing her Right People to her.

I wish I had some handy list of bulleted tips to give out about how to get in touch with your authentic self and feel more comfortable in your skin- that would be a really snazzy way to wrap up this post- but this is more of an individual journey that we each undertake rather than a, “be your authentic self in 5 easy steps” kind of deal. I can only say that, for me, these things, people, and resources, have helped:

• Time and experience: I’m as impatient as the next person (actually much, much more so), so I understand that this can be an annoying item to kick the list off with. However, being yourself and finding your voice is a lifelong process, so it’s not going to happen in a weekend boot camp. Part of why I can relax into myself is the fact that I’ve had enough years of experience behind me as a Rolfer that I feel confident in my skills, and happy in my own skin. Except for when I don’t. And then I’m reminded of the fact that this ride just goes on and on (and on and on…)

• Any and all writings by Pema Chodron: With book titles like, “The Wisdom of No Escape” and “When Things Fall Apart” you know you’re in for a ride and a half. Absolutely every shred of Pema Chodron’s work has had a remarkable effect on my life.

• Seth Godin: Seth Godin is my hero. I fell in love with marketing when his work opened my eyes to the fact that it isn’t about smarmy advertising, but rather about the art of spreading ideas. If we decide to spread the ideas that matter, we can change the world. If you’re one of the ten people on planet Earth who doesn’t subscribe to his blog, please do, and you’ll get a great feel for someone truly living their authentic self.

• Lissa Boles over at True Callings: Lissa is a dear friend and a total genius when it comes to shining a light on all the nooks and crannies you never expected about the big unfolding Journey (yep, worthy of capitalization). Nearly all of my conversations with her leave me feeling like she flipped a switch and turned on floodlights in my brain, leaving me to see all the goodies I didn’t know were skulking around in the dark.

• Havi Brooks over at The Fluent Self: As the title of her website suggests, Havi Brooks knows a thing or two about finding your fluent self. She’s so real about her own process, and she has great tools for your own journey. I love her writing and always come away with a new A-ha to ponder.

What helps you get to know and love your own skin a little better? And have you found any impact on your practice with this?

So here I am, a wee bit more than a month after hanging out my shingle for my new practice, and I have the lovely opportunity to be intentionally wrapping up my one big consulting job (aka, the thing that pays my bills) so that I can add more appointment slots to my Rolfing week- because, go figure, the ones I currently have are all filled up. Yay! I’m such a rock star! I win!

Except for the, “Oh no! What if I screw it up! I. AM. FREEEAAAKING OUT!” panic attacks that keep bubbling up to the surface. Somehow actually completing the one big job, and then leaning heavily on my Rolfing income to support myself and my son, has hit all these little trip wires of worry.  

For example, one of my totally delightful new clients called me the other day to cancel her next three appointments, because she wants to wait to proceed with her Rolfing sessions. That one little hole of time in my schedule sent me into a tizzy of fear. Suddenly I’m thinking that I also haven’t had a new client call in two whole days. Dear lord, that’s trouble.

I know if you haven’t had a new client call in two months that you’re glaring at me through this screen. And you have my blessings with this- I did mention that these were non-sensical panic attacks. The reality is that I’m rocking it in my new practice, I do know a bit about how to grow this thing, I’ve been in practice for nine years, this is the third time I’ve started a whole new gig from scratch, and the second time that I’ve done it really quickly and with a ton of success- so (pardon the teen text-ese) WTF? What I realized is that it’s just plain scary- this whole private practice thing- no matter what.

If this is your first practice, and/or you’ve been working at it for a while now without leaving the day job- it can be downright terrifying. So why not enjoy the safety net for as long as it lasts? Because at a certain point the safety net becomes a bonafide net. Um, the kind used to trap fish and small animals. All of our abilities to grow are dictated by the amount of space we give whatever we’re trying to grow. We’ve just gotta create space for the things that matter. You can’t expect a plant in a pot that’s too small to become a towering mass of luscious greenness- it’s going to slow down to accommodate the pot it finds itself in.

With all this mixing of metaphors of small pots and nets (I can feel my high school English teacher mournfully shaking her head), you’d think I’m a fan of the leap before you look philosophy. To this I can only say HELL NO. I lived the leap before you look philosophy for a long time and while I learned a ton and have no regrets, I also suffered way more than I had to. I find life to be better when I minimize the suffering I am in control of, because we don’t get to control these things all the time. Looking to see what kind of leap you’re taking (off a 30-story building? into a thorn patch? into a clear beautiful lake?) is one of those issues where we can use a little foresight to minimize our suffering after we land. Like anything, it’s all about balance. Not so safe that you’re growth is stunted, not so fearless that you’re reconsidering your leap as you pass by the windows of the 30 stories that were below you.

With that, here are some tips for leaving the safety net:

• Transition incrementally:  If at all possible, gradually decrease the amount of time spent at the day job as you gradually increase the amount of time spent at your practice. You can try negotiating with your boss to see if they’re open to you slowly cutting down your hours or dropping a day. You can also just slowly add days when you’re at your practice (which I realize makes life very full for a while) and then drop the day job when you’re ready. Having the opportunity to actually experience paying your bills more and more on your private practice income is invaluable in slaying the fear demons.
• Figure out your bare minimum number: Figure out the number of clients you need each week just to meet your living expenses. When figuring out your monthly living expenses don’t forget to add everything in there- how much to you really spend on groceries? What are you paying on monthly memberships for things? No one is looking over your shoulder shaming you for still carrying that gym membership. Cutting down your expenses can be super useful, but for this exercise get the real number of what it costs you to live each month. Also remember to subtract your practice expenses- office rent, supplies, laundry, etc from the amount your bare minimum number brings in. For example, my bare minimum number is seven. For me, seven clients per week equals $3360 a month, minus expenses, which brings the number to $2800 per month. At $2800 a month I can meet my bare minimum for living (and I have ruthlessly cut my expenses, so this number is low for most).  The bare minimum number serves only as a panic button that lets you know to up the ante with your practice building activities once you’re fully reliant on your practice to pay your bills.
• Figure out your freedom number: To know what number you need to leave the day job, you’ve got to use the bare minimum number as a springboard. These two numbers should not be the same number. Remember, the point is for us to minimize suffering here- no need to leave your job only to scrape by. So, how many clients do you need to leave? The easiest way to do this is to take your bare minimum number and add half that number to it. Double it if you’re security minded. That makes my freedom number of clients per week somewhere between nine and twelve. I’m working with twelve in my mind- and I’m only making eleven slots available each week- this takes into consideration that everyone won’t see me weekly, and adds some padding for the ebbs and flows. Keep in mind that I do still have this little site here, and part of my transition back into private practice is to free more time for The Well Practice- so my numbers are low because of my work here, and also because as a bodyworker I can only see one client at a time.  Be sure to figure out your own numbers- this is absolutely not one size fits all. Lastly, remember that once you’re out on your own, you don’t have to freak out when you drop below your freedom number. It’ll happen. Just use these parameters to know when you need to fan the flames of your practice.
• Embrace the reality of fear: I still think Susan Jeffers said it best with, “feel the fear and do it anyway.” There is no such thing as the absence of fear when making big transitions (unless you’re mentally ill) so just remember that it comes with the territory, and isn’t necessarily a sign to stop in your tracks. The reality is that there is no such thing as security, but since we humans seem to endlessly seek it, this can be a bummer. However, when you embrace the fact that fear will show up as we navigate the big stuff,  you can choose what’s best for you- rather than what society tells you is the officially “safe” way to go. In truth, there is no safety (we can see this clearly in our current economy, all my friends who compromised their passions for “safe” jobs are now scrambling)- and frankly, I’d rather rely on myself than an employer to create my income. With an employer you never quite know when the rug could suddenly get pulled out from under you- as noted by all the rug-less people these days. With yourself, you have your panic button number that tells you to kick things into high gear, and your own efforts to rely on to get the magic happening.

This grab bag of handy dandy tricks is helping me a great deal as I make the leap. Other essential goodies for me are meditation, movement, and honing the internal compass (in other words, listening to my gut). Byron Katie’s The Work, also always helps me out tremendously, and I’m currently reading Emotional Bullshit by Carl Alasko. I haven’t finished it yet, but so far I’m a fan and I find it’s a good resource for knowing your own core needs, and clarifying healthy boundaries. What are your life rafts? I’m always game to add new resources to my staying sane library.

I happen to be in one of those life phases where boatloads of crucial stuff is vying for my time and attention and it’s got me feeling like I’m being pecked to death by thousands of angry birds- a la Alfred Hitchcock. I know many of you are trying to jump start practices while juggling lots of other demanding things- so I figured I’d bare my big hairy demons for you all in the hopes that what I’ve discovered can help you with your own juggling act.

First, a list of what I’m juggling. I’ll pretend it’s because it’s cathartic for me, but mostly it’s because it makes the Puritan genes in me feel like I’m a good person. For those of you whose family didn’t come over on the Mayflower the short version of the Puritan work ethic is: hard work + productivity = I’m worthy of existing. So here we go:

• I’m a single mom to a two year old sweetie pie of a little boy.
• I’m going through a divorce. Those of you who’ve been there know this is good times.
• The majority of my work hours are spent on a consulting job for a non-profit in education reform. I’m the gal who’s re-vamping their digital life and helping them to build their tribe.
• I’m starting my third Rolfing practice from scratch in New Haven- NCBTMB exam, licensure, office space, website, marketing- it all must happen.
• I’ve got this little site, The Well Practice, you may have heard of it? This site is happily evolving along with my mission to help people to kick ass in their practices. Evolving so quickly that a total rebuild is on the horizon. Sure- no problem! (It’s going to be really freaking good though…)
• My free ebook is about to re-launch, and the manuscript for my printed book (aaah!) continues to be edited and re-vamped.
• I, with a few other good folks, am re-writing the Rolf Institute’s Practice Building curriculum.
• I’m consulting with a handful of fab wellness businesses to help them to spread the good word about what they do. (They’re all pre-launch, so I can’t give them a shout out yet)

Yay! I’m so busy that I must be a good person- one who is worthy of existing! Yippee! Now that my Puritan ancestors are nodding in approval, we can move on. (Provided you haven’t abandoned this page already because you decided you’ve been listening to the ravings of a madwoman).

After writing my multitasking post and taking my own advice, I was disappointed to find that the birds didn’t stop attacking. Even with tidy little time slots for my Stuff, the Stuff is still plain old overwhelming. (Hmmm, so I don’t have all the answers- dang!)

In the spirit of figuring out how to keep the birds from pecking me to death, I was inspired by Havi Brooks* to sit down and take a good look at what is clearly a stuck-ness for me. What I discovered was a surprise. The birds aren’t the Stuff. The birds are my own self-flagellating ways.

What kept coming up in my meditation was the relentless phrase, “I have to make progress.” As I sat with this phrase it dawned on me that I’m always having these internal conversations about what I need to “make” happen. Oy vey. The control freak in me seems to Never. Ever. Go. Away. God forbid I stop turning the handle that rotates the Earth- we would all surely perish.

This gets into the whole slippery business of what my friend Lissa Boles calls manufacturing vs. manifesting. When manufacturing we push, are exhausted yet wired, and feel like a flock of angry birds is following us everywhere we go. 

When we manifest we lie back on our couch, eat bon-bons, and stare blissfully at the ceiling until the Universe delivers our perfect life. Um, just kidding. But this is my constant fear about the manifesting route- that it requires a passiveness that will morph into gummy, sticky, inertia.

Herein lies the tricky balancing act. On the one hand is all the self-improvement stuff we’re constantly hearing in our type-A culture: “Kick ass! Work harder! Just do it! Push past the fear! Yeeaaaaaaah!” and on the other hand is the fear that the alternative is to waste away while we embrace receptivity- whatever the hell that means.

However, what if, with all of our work hard, kick ass stuff we’re actually creating the gummy sticky inertia? As Pema Chodron once said (I paraphrase): “self-improvement is a subtle form of aggression against ourselves.” Trying to improve ourselves implies that we’re not exactly big fans of who we are right now.

What if the self-improvement thing is actually the self-flagellating pain in the ass which- as with all pains in the ass- slows us down and creates the inertia we imagined was reserved for the manifesting route? What if receptivity- or manifesting- isn’t about lying back and thinking of England, but rather about remaining open enough that we can see opportunities, and do the work that’s in front of us with more joy and ease?

As I was forming this post in my mind over lunch, I opened a bottle of Honest Tea and the lid read, “No shade tree? Blame not the sun, but yourself.” I smiled peacefully and thought, “Ah yes, exactly what I’ve been realizing. I need to be my own shade tree. How wise and centered I am.” Then I burst into laughter because there I was back at self-flagellation again. The abbreviated quote does read, “Blame yourself” after all. Alas, it’s a work in progress- but at least I was receptive enough to notice the hilarity of berating myself for not being kinder to myself. Had I not been in a receptive mode, I would have missed that entirely and spun into a new batch of self-loathing. Ah delicious irony. Ah the perks of staying receptive.

 *Havi Brooks is a destuckification expert with an amazing and addictive blog. I’m convinced she’s a freaking genius. She also has a whole category for “not hating on yourself” I head over there when I need to stop the aforementioned hating on myself. I highly recommend.

I had the great good fortune to head over to In Good Company a few weeks ago to talk shop with their group of lovely holistic ladies. As we were chatting, one of the women mentioned that she’s always had a thriving practice, and yet a few months ago- with no changes at all to either how she builds her practice or practices her practice- business dropped waaaaaay off. Specifically, she went from having 70% of those who did a free consult become clients, to about 10% now. Because the economy tanked long before her practice did, and because this isn’t a standard, ‘how can I best [insert strategy idea here]?” question, I had to ponder for a couple of days.

As I combed through what had changed in her life right around the time things got quiet, the culprit was clear: she had started a retreat center. Oh that’s all! Just launching a whole other demanding, screaming, crying newborn baby of a business. Because she had managed to devote just as much time to her private practice while taking on this new enterprise, she couldn’t understand why her practice had suffered.

It’s about energy units people. When something new comes along and fills all available energy units, there’s no room for new clients. Even though as you speak with a potential client you’re thinking consciously that you want this person to work with you, on a subconscious level your quivering little energy units are screaming, “Noooooooooooo! Not another thing- when would I have time!!”

It’s as if you’re stranded in the ocean, treading water, and hoping that a rescue boat will show up on the horizon. When you find yourself in this situation it’s impossible- and ridiculous- to think about swimming to shore. You’re trying to conserve energy because you don’t know how long you’ll be adrift, how far you even are from shore, or where the hell shore is- not to mention the unknown challenges that might crop up (hungry sharks, dehydration, leg cramps- good times). When you feel this way internally, your subconscious self is in full on conservation mode. Your potential clients’ subconscious selves can smell said mode, and they go elsewhere looking for the practitioner who they feel can devote full attention to them. Who can blame them?

This doesn’t mean that you can’t take on new things, even if they’re big, bold projects-I’m pro big, bold projects. The world needs more of them. There’s one simple equation that will help to navigate those times when your energy units are feeling like they’re treading water: multitasking = that stranded in the ocean feeling.

Set clear boundaries on your time for each endeavor. In this case, I’d make clear boundaries on “retreat center” time and “private practice” time. When doing anything at all related to her private practice, there shouldn’t be any tinkering with thoughts or actions related to the retreat center. Likewise, when working for the retreat center, there is nothing at all happening related to her private practice.

It takes some getting used to- trust me I’m no pro. Think of it as you would a meditation practice. When meditating, you bring your wandering thoughts back- gently- either to your mantra or by simply noticing and letting go of the thought. When clarifying your time boundaries, you’re noticing when your energy units start to wander over to the other Thing when it’s not the time allotted for that Thing. When that happens, just gently bring them back, and turn your full energy to whatever Thing you’re currently focusing on.

Clarify what projects you have brewing and write them in your calendar with specific blocks of time- and don’t forget to add non-work time! Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go take my own advice and write up a clear schedule for each of my Things. I see a rescue boat on the horizon- who’s with me!

*don’t forget to evaluate the passive energy unit suckers too- piles of bills, that dentist appointment you keep putting off making, your train wreck of an email inbox: Set aside whatever time you may need to clear out the clutter so you can focus fully on what matters.

My dear friend and colleague, Lissa Boles from True Callings, has recently been interviewing me as an associate faculty member for her True Callings Tribe*.

In our most recent chat she and I were talking about how I got into Rolfing and my experience trying to grow my first practice. Yes, trying to grow not growing. As most of you know, it was three years of stumbling blindly into brick walls. I’ve always talked about the cause of this clusterf*ck as the result of my total lack of knowledge about how to grow my practice. Which is true. However, what Lissa illuminated for me is that something else had gone missing in those years- my Why.

Because I had had such a profound healing experience with Rolfing as a client, when I went to school to study it, my number one, super potent Why was clear: people don’t need to suffer so much- and I want to do the thing that taught me that lesson and helped me to heal. (it’s worth noting that this is the same Why that has me teaching practice building- maybe we all just have one over-arching Why?)

However, once I got out of school and was faced with the fact that there weren’t lines of clients waiting for my services (hard to believe they weren’t shoving fistfuls of bills into my hands just to experience this thing with the wonderful name Rolfing), my Why became a stranger. Suddenly my panicked subconscious was whispering a new Why in my ear: “I need to figure out some way to convince people to pay me so that I can do this thing I love.” Um, yuck. Desperation + manipulation + self-loathing = no clients.

When I, in my new-grad-strapped-for-cash-lost-in-space state, believed that this was my Why, I went running from it. How could I possibly follow through on a Why that I was so averse to? And so I didn’t try to convince people to pay me to do the thing I loved. I hid. I hoped people would somehow find me and benefit from my work. Did that work out? Not so much.

When I moved to Brooklyn to start from scratch (after 3 years of hiding out and scraping by in Napa) I got busy and decided not to hide anymore. As many of you reading along know, this is when I fell in love with practice building and it all clicked. However, my conversation with Lissa reminded me that the decision to take action on growing my practice started with re-framing my Why.

After the move, I was surveying what my options would be if I didn’t make a change- another 3 years of silently suffering, another place where I had to work 4 part-time jobs on top of my Rolfing practice, another 3 years barely making ends meet- I got pissed. And when I got pissed the booming voice of my true Why came yelling out at me, “Heeeeeeeeey! Listen up you self-loathing, pain in my ass! (my inner Why can be kind of a pain in my ass) You’re offering people a gift for Gods sake, not asking them to do you a favor!” And with that it was like someone had flipped the light switch on. What if the Rolfer who had helped me- or the myriad of wellness practitioners who had saved my bacon since then- had never gotten it together to get the word out about their practices? Think of how I would have missed out. Which begged the question- who might be missing out because I’m not putting myself out there? Getting my Why back was the rocket fuel behind the whole thing. Once I had that, and I started taking action, it was 3 months to a full practice. In 3 months I accomplished what I never could in the previous 3 years.

What’s your true Why? Are there any false Why’s floating around in your beliefs?

*The True Callings Tribe is Lissa’s way to share insights from people who are living what she calls the ‘callings led life’ in other words- those of us who are both crazy enough and wise enough to live the life that follows that inner voice. If you want to listen to the full interview I had with her, you can find it here.