“Energy Medicine for Women”
Since the last post, I found some really helpful videos on "You Tube" by author Donna Eden. Last year, one of my best friends, Lisa, had turned me onto a beautiful book, called "Energy Medicine for Women". She loaned it to me, and ashamedly, I kept it for a month before returning it to her. After giving it back to her, I felt insecure and a little panicky. It was as if I had to give back an undiscovered part of myself that I really liked!
Three days later (thanks to the efficiency of Amazon.com), I had bolstered my library of self help books to include Donna Eden's title and have enjoyed it so much that I tote it around with me all the time. Before I go to work, I pack my lunch, vitamins, make up and my "Energy Medicine for Women" book as a resource for times when I am feeling anxious and out of balance.
This book is chalked full of exercises that will help you adjust your body's energy patterns regarding female issues: hormonal balance for PMS, peri and full fledged menopausal women, pregnant and even women who have osteoporosis. There are also exercise remedies for stress, anxiety and overeating.
The forward was written by Christine Northrup (an excellent advocate and PhD for women's issues) who touts the praises of Eden's practices and hands on work in the field of energy medicine.
Do yourself a favor, and buy it. Practice it every day. As with most things, the more you give time to balance your energies, the better you will feel.
I have one warning: the exercises are unlike Western medicine. The adjustments you feel from Eden's book are subtle and will not mask your pain like a pill's capability. You will still be conscious of your problems, in fact, while doing some exercises, Eden wants you to think about your problem while holding a position! When your body wants to go into fight, or flight mode, holding a specific position will actually contradict the message and condition the body's responses to deal with stress hormones.
The daily exercise modules only take 5-10 minutes once you learn how to apply them, which makes committing to them simple (notice, I said the word "commit").
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DXKIGk8Zuuc&feature=related (copy & past on browser)
I recommend watching the "You Tube" video after you've read the book. The book is not only crammed pack with practical knowledge, but you get to learn about her natural abilities and experiences using them. The video refines and pinpoints the spots you are supposed to be tapping that you can’t really see that well in the book. Plus, it’s just fun seeing Eden demonstrate on a class full of willing students.
Speaking of classes, I had a gut feeling a couple days ago to check on Donna Eden's website (innersource.org) to inquire about any local workshops, since she resides in Oregon. As it happens, she will be appearing in Seattle on February 13th at an all day, hands on workshop! With the help of a darling young woman, Karla ( an employee of www.womenofwisdom.org), I purchased two tickets and will be attending that very class! I get excited every time I think of it!
Donna Eden is also an energy seer. My high hopes are that she will pick me out from the crowd to heal my drooping energy imbalances! The last intuitive I visited ( whom I'd never met before) would be happy for me, since she told me that my energy is so heavy right now, that she looked at me as I got out of my car, and just sighed, "Ugh! What are you doing? You need rest!"
No... class will not take place in a tent. No, she won't be selling the next miracle elixir yelling at the top of her lungs atop a podium. She will simply be using her gift of seeing people's auras and helping each individual balance herself by using proven methods. This class isn't open to men, and I think I know why. Women, like myself who have had c-sections and hysterectomies are in need of unclogging the scar's blocked energies. I don't think it will be like show and tell, but men simply don't have the same incisions and chemical makeup. I have no doubt that she may even get asked about healing episiotomy scars, too (I leaked out my question, already!)!
Anyway, I am grateful to attend.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Free Will
I went for a walk yesterday with my Red Heeler, Gloria, along the windswept Swinomish Channel. It took all of my energy just to get there. The sun was shining and I had the wind against my back, which at several points along my sojourn, made it feel like someone was helping me along. I went there to clear my body's energies that had collected from last week's grind of planning the store's closing, lice, laundry and a few struggles with John. This was a difficult day in the time of personal change.
I came home in such a lucid state, I thought my mind was faltering into Allzheimer's, or Lou Gherrig's disease. I ate in silence, but was not alone (John had the day off from school and was working on his laptop). Understanding his boundries, I went to the bedroom to sift through the many journal entries scattered on the floor, hoping to find inspiration that could lift my spirits. It was not text that took me over, but the sun's rays that lured me into a much needed rest. I felt like a cat, just lying there on the floor with only the warmth of the sun blanketing me. I stretched and gave myself permission to just "be". Even though my brain jerked over and over again in acclimating to this pleasure, I reassured myself that it's okay to rest. I told God every time my mind spasmed, "Thank you for this deep sleep. Thank you for this deep relaxation."
I slept for two hours. At one point, I pulled my cashmere throw over me for further insulation between the passing clouds, but it didn't break my stride of deep, midday rest.
This is what change does. It allows you to take a nap in the middle of the day when you don't understand how exhausted you are feeling. It makes you assess what makes you happy. So many times, if not most, we do for others those things that make them happy. Within the perameters of marriage, or any relationship, identity is easily lost if you constantly give and put other's needs ahead of your own. Even if you are conscious of this warning, we as mothers, wives and mates still hand over our power. Why? Because we unconsciously fall into repetitive patterns that have taken us this far in life. We haven't had to be pressed against the wall of change.
Where do we get leverage on ourselves to understand and nurture the power of our worthiness? For me, it has began with my body. My lovely muscles, fat, bones and organs are what I listen to. When something goes awry in that catagory, I have to listen, because I am rooted in this physical world. I was told by my friend, Elke (who is an aura reader/healer/author) that I, we, you -if you choose to be- are part of the transition team. The transition team is a collection of people who will clean up the shit in the world. She told me my root chakra was so large and anchored in this physical world, that I will be around for a long time. Well, if I'm going to be around for many years, I want to feel good and be able to live life. That motivates me.
The second point of leverage is my mind. This is the "Last Frontier". Trying to reprogram negative thoughts into positive ones has been a two year tennis match. I have counceled by myself and with John to clean up my thoughts. This requires constant conciousness on a daily basis. You have to constantly check in with your mind and it's feelings in order to harness the power of positive thinking.
What is difficult with change, is that as I do it, it makes others around me shift.
I stayed at the store because John didn't want me to change. So, instead of honoring my feelings of moving on and finding something else before the market crashed, I slowly began to complain about my physical and about the decline in business. I complained about hurting and feeling like crap to John when I got home at night. I didn't have ample energy to play with the kids in the evening. I did't want to engage in sex due to severity of physical symptoms (TMI?!).
I love John. To blame him about inability to stand up for my feelings is unfair, since I am the one who chose to stay and become a practical Queen of Swords instead of my fun, Queen of Wands ( I will explain later).
I knew that I was done with Organic Matters three years ago. That was when my stress hormones showed up and decided to become turbulant until I listened to my needs. However, I exercised free will and chose to stay at the store, thinking I had more to learn (how can I begrudge myself a good lesson?). I began to get a little involved with our community, since I hadn't ever done it before. I volunteered at the school, and served on our Chamber's marketing committee. I even tried to sell OM, but by that time the economy's gloomy reputation had caught up with our town.
With all that, I burned out even quicker.
What I hadn't realized was that Organic Matters had became it's own entity during the last 14 years. It was operating without me being there. It had it's own space, customers and business license. Yes, I created it. Yes, I loved and nurtured it. Yes, I put all my creativity in it for many years. What did I expect?!
I expected more. I wanted the store to take off and be super profitable. I had hopes of franchising the concept and moving it to Seattle. I yearned for OM to bring home more income than my husband. I wanted the ego trip, yet received the self improvement path.
Really, the closing of the store is much more than selling goods at discount from a brick and mortar building. It's about letting go of a dream. It's about death. I am literally dying before your eyes on the screen, only to transform into my own "beautiful butterfly". Thank you for reading. This is what they call the dark before light phase. I trust the universe to tilt in the direction of happiness-around March 31st!!
Was this the noble road to self discovery? Was it the easiest road to family peace and diplomacy? Doesn't matter. It was free will that allowed me to do it. And free will rules this earth.
Organic Matters will be start liquidation on February 1st. All merchandise and fixtures discounted at 20% off. All sales final:)
I came home in such a lucid state, I thought my mind was faltering into Allzheimer's, or Lou Gherrig's disease. I ate in silence, but was not alone (John had the day off from school and was working on his laptop). Understanding his boundries, I went to the bedroom to sift through the many journal entries scattered on the floor, hoping to find inspiration that could lift my spirits. It was not text that took me over, but the sun's rays that lured me into a much needed rest. I felt like a cat, just lying there on the floor with only the warmth of the sun blanketing me. I stretched and gave myself permission to just "be". Even though my brain jerked over and over again in acclimating to this pleasure, I reassured myself that it's okay to rest. I told God every time my mind spasmed, "Thank you for this deep sleep. Thank you for this deep relaxation."
I slept for two hours. At one point, I pulled my cashmere throw over me for further insulation between the passing clouds, but it didn't break my stride of deep, midday rest.
This is what change does. It allows you to take a nap in the middle of the day when you don't understand how exhausted you are feeling. It makes you assess what makes you happy. So many times, if not most, we do for others those things that make them happy. Within the perameters of marriage, or any relationship, identity is easily lost if you constantly give and put other's needs ahead of your own. Even if you are conscious of this warning, we as mothers, wives and mates still hand over our power. Why? Because we unconsciously fall into repetitive patterns that have taken us this far in life. We haven't had to be pressed against the wall of change.
Where do we get leverage on ourselves to understand and nurture the power of our worthiness? For me, it has began with my body. My lovely muscles, fat, bones and organs are what I listen to. When something goes awry in that catagory, I have to listen, because I am rooted in this physical world. I was told by my friend, Elke (who is an aura reader/healer/author) that I, we, you -if you choose to be- are part of the transition team. The transition team is a collection of people who will clean up the shit in the world. She told me my root chakra was so large and anchored in this physical world, that I will be around for a long time. Well, if I'm going to be around for many years, I want to feel good and be able to live life. That motivates me.
The second point of leverage is my mind. This is the "Last Frontier". Trying to reprogram negative thoughts into positive ones has been a two year tennis match. I have counceled by myself and with John to clean up my thoughts. This requires constant conciousness on a daily basis. You have to constantly check in with your mind and it's feelings in order to harness the power of positive thinking.
What is difficult with change, is that as I do it, it makes others around me shift.
I stayed at the store because John didn't want me to change. So, instead of honoring my feelings of moving on and finding something else before the market crashed, I slowly began to complain about my physical and about the decline in business. I complained about hurting and feeling like crap to John when I got home at night. I didn't have ample energy to play with the kids in the evening. I did't want to engage in sex due to severity of physical symptoms (TMI?!).
I love John. To blame him about inability to stand up for my feelings is unfair, since I am the one who chose to stay and become a practical Queen of Swords instead of my fun, Queen of Wands ( I will explain later).
I knew that I was done with Organic Matters three years ago. That was when my stress hormones showed up and decided to become turbulant until I listened to my needs. However, I exercised free will and chose to stay at the store, thinking I had more to learn (how can I begrudge myself a good lesson?). I began to get a little involved with our community, since I hadn't ever done it before. I volunteered at the school, and served on our Chamber's marketing committee. I even tried to sell OM, but by that time the economy's gloomy reputation had caught up with our town.
With all that, I burned out even quicker.
What I hadn't realized was that Organic Matters had became it's own entity during the last 14 years. It was operating without me being there. It had it's own space, customers and business license. Yes, I created it. Yes, I loved and nurtured it. Yes, I put all my creativity in it for many years. What did I expect?!
I expected more. I wanted the store to take off and be super profitable. I had hopes of franchising the concept and moving it to Seattle. I yearned for OM to bring home more income than my husband. I wanted the ego trip, yet received the self improvement path.
Really, the closing of the store is much more than selling goods at discount from a brick and mortar building. It's about letting go of a dream. It's about death. I am literally dying before your eyes on the screen, only to transform into my own "beautiful butterfly". Thank you for reading. This is what they call the dark before light phase. I trust the universe to tilt in the direction of happiness-around March 31st!!
Was this the noble road to self discovery? Was it the easiest road to family peace and diplomacy? Doesn't matter. It was free will that allowed me to do it. And free will rules this earth.
Organic Matters will be start liquidation on February 1st. All merchandise and fixtures discounted at 20% off. All sales final:)
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Lunch With A Perfect Stranger
(Continued from last week's blog)
in between customers, asked her a few more questions about the many details in closing a store. As if the clouds lifted and the Fat Lady sang, I knew if this woman and I met, we would have many things to talk about. We might even be friends! It was a date: we would meet Saturday, at the store, around 12 for lunch.
I hung up feeling as if God, himself, sent this woman my way if only to say, "I'm with you. Your on the right path."
With jubulation, I call my bookkeeper, Barb, to tell her the news. Why call the bookkeeper? Two reasons: one, Barb has banged heads with me on how to navigate through the financial details of closing. Two: she's become a friend-Awe!
Barbara and I met 6 months ago over the phone, too. She was highly recommended by Bellingham's Small Business Center. We phone interviewed, met and my P&L's have never shone so brightly!
So, I calls Barb, and relay the conversation. Of course, she was happy for me, especially since it was so out of the blue for myself and a complete stranger to converse about a present situation. Woo Woo...
That night peacefully expanded into a kitchen table conversation with John, when he asked, "What do you know about this person? What's the name of her store? How do you know she's legitimate?" My heart sinks. If only I carried the scrap of paper with me that scribed all the conversation's critical information. I reply, "I can't remember. I don't know if she is legitimate, but she sounded nice over the phone. Besides, we're meeting at the store-a public place-which should be safe."
Those pessimistic questions made me look at myself with hesitation: I was trusting a total stranger. How often do we hear stories on the internet about adult abduction? Would a 60 year old woman really want to kidnap me: a middle aged woman who is hormonal and has panick attacks? Where is the glory in that?! Besides, I can still scrap pretty well. John should know, since we wrestled a couple weeks ago in the living room floor and I earned at least 4 points by doing a couple reversals.
That night I go to sleep, creating an emergency plan, "I can cancel if I don't feel good. I can walk out of the lunch date if I got scared, threatened, or if the stranger was rude and beligerent. Zzzz..."
At 11:55 am, I walk into my very public store to be greeted by a well-groomed, flawless complected 60+ year old woman, who doned a toothy smile with some well-earned wrinkles. We shook hands, and immediately went to lunch. I suggested a favorite place us locals like to frequent, called Nell Thorn. She agreed.
Her name was "Sharon". As we walked and talked, she reminded me of the many manicured sales reps at the Seattle Gift Center. She had poise, a framed demeanor, and was out for a sale.
After we got seated, she handed me a letter that she had sent to her landlord, explaning the process of her lease termination. We conversed about the closure of her business (after all, this was the whole point of meeting) and as she talked, I got this uneasy feeling in my gut. She continued to describe her internet business that she is continuing from home, and about looking for potential lines. I could hear her stomach gurgle over my chewing on a superbly built steak salad and homemade crunchy french bread. Had she revealed too much about herself?
Next, it was my turn. I exchanged the equivilent information, however the feeling of just talking about closing the store made me put down several best bites. We were both a little nervous. Who can blame us? When was the last time you had lunch with a perfect stranger-and I mean perfect in an honorable way.
Soon enough, I had summarized her motivation to get together with me: she was still mentally in the game of retail. She was activly looking for organic lines to post on her site. Even though her brick store didn't fortify into financial success, I could tell she was still in hot pursuit of the retail dream. I wasn't. Would we be friends? Probably not.
When I was 22, I met an 80 year old gentleman named, William Brooks (Bill to his confidants), at the Nordstrom Rack. He was once a business partner to Brooks-McNight Cheverolet, in Bellevue. Frankly, this man didn't reflect what I thought a successful car dealership partner would look like: he was shorter than me, a little bent over and had a face that lacked muscle tone, so that when he spoke, his entire face shook. That was on the outside.
On the inside, was this marvelously astute mind and manner. It turns out that he was a wealthy man for most of his life, until he manifested esophogial cancer that raped him of his money, but not his dignity.
He would come into the store, sometimes twice a week, and request for me to assist him in finding the best quality at the cheapest price. I reluctantly helped him at first, thinking the worst of this man, until he'd catch my attention with an intriging spiritual, or self-help title to a book he was reading.
One day, we agreed to lunch. We made arrangments and all was set-until I got nervous and dogged him at the last minute. I hid in the store's loading dock and secretly watched as he pulled up in a shiny, blush pink classic cadillac. He circled twice, and left once. The next week he had only one thing to say to me, "You never waste another person's time".
This was so relevent to me, that I never did it to anyone again.
Today, I am grateful for Sharon's lunch visit, even if we had different agendas. I am grateful for the lunch I eventually had with Bill, too. We did become friends. He even attended my wedding!
People have always commented on how naiive I am. You may have, too, as you read this article. But I don't see myself that way. I just like people and know that most everyone has something interesting to share.
in between customers, asked her a few more questions about the many details in closing a store. As if the clouds lifted and the Fat Lady sang, I knew if this woman and I met, we would have many things to talk about. We might even be friends! It was a date: we would meet Saturday, at the store, around 12 for lunch.
I hung up feeling as if God, himself, sent this woman my way if only to say, "I'm with you. Your on the right path."
With jubulation, I call my bookkeeper, Barb, to tell her the news. Why call the bookkeeper? Two reasons: one, Barb has banged heads with me on how to navigate through the financial details of closing. Two: she's become a friend-Awe!
Barbara and I met 6 months ago over the phone, too. She was highly recommended by Bellingham's Small Business Center. We phone interviewed, met and my P&L's have never shone so brightly!
So, I calls Barb, and relay the conversation. Of course, she was happy for me, especially since it was so out of the blue for myself and a complete stranger to converse about a present situation. Woo Woo...
That night peacefully expanded into a kitchen table conversation with John, when he asked, "What do you know about this person? What's the name of her store? How do you know she's legitimate?" My heart sinks. If only I carried the scrap of paper with me that scribed all the conversation's critical information. I reply, "I can't remember. I don't know if she is legitimate, but she sounded nice over the phone. Besides, we're meeting at the store-a public place-which should be safe."
Those pessimistic questions made me look at myself with hesitation: I was trusting a total stranger. How often do we hear stories on the internet about adult abduction? Would a 60 year old woman really want to kidnap me: a middle aged woman who is hormonal and has panick attacks? Where is the glory in that?! Besides, I can still scrap pretty well. John should know, since we wrestled a couple weeks ago in the living room floor and I earned at least 4 points by doing a couple reversals.
That night I go to sleep, creating an emergency plan, "I can cancel if I don't feel good. I can walk out of the lunch date if I got scared, threatened, or if the stranger was rude and beligerent. Zzzz..."
At 11:55 am, I walk into my very public store to be greeted by a well-groomed, flawless complected 60+ year old woman, who doned a toothy smile with some well-earned wrinkles. We shook hands, and immediately went to lunch. I suggested a favorite place us locals like to frequent, called Nell Thorn. She agreed.
Her name was "Sharon". As we walked and talked, she reminded me of the many manicured sales reps at the Seattle Gift Center. She had poise, a framed demeanor, and was out for a sale.
After we got seated, she handed me a letter that she had sent to her landlord, explaning the process of her lease termination. We conversed about the closure of her business (after all, this was the whole point of meeting) and as she talked, I got this uneasy feeling in my gut. She continued to describe her internet business that she is continuing from home, and about looking for potential lines. I could hear her stomach gurgle over my chewing on a superbly built steak salad and homemade crunchy french bread. Had she revealed too much about herself?
Next, it was my turn. I exchanged the equivilent information, however the feeling of just talking about closing the store made me put down several best bites. We were both a little nervous. Who can blame us? When was the last time you had lunch with a perfect stranger-and I mean perfect in an honorable way.
Soon enough, I had summarized her motivation to get together with me: she was still mentally in the game of retail. She was activly looking for organic lines to post on her site. Even though her brick store didn't fortify into financial success, I could tell she was still in hot pursuit of the retail dream. I wasn't. Would we be friends? Probably not.
When I was 22, I met an 80 year old gentleman named, William Brooks (Bill to his confidants), at the Nordstrom Rack. He was once a business partner to Brooks-McNight Cheverolet, in Bellevue. Frankly, this man didn't reflect what I thought a successful car dealership partner would look like: he was shorter than me, a little bent over and had a face that lacked muscle tone, so that when he spoke, his entire face shook. That was on the outside.
On the inside, was this marvelously astute mind and manner. It turns out that he was a wealthy man for most of his life, until he manifested esophogial cancer that raped him of his money, but not his dignity.
He would come into the store, sometimes twice a week, and request for me to assist him in finding the best quality at the cheapest price. I reluctantly helped him at first, thinking the worst of this man, until he'd catch my attention with an intriging spiritual, or self-help title to a book he was reading.
One day, we agreed to lunch. We made arrangments and all was set-until I got nervous and dogged him at the last minute. I hid in the store's loading dock and secretly watched as he pulled up in a shiny, blush pink classic cadillac. He circled twice, and left once. The next week he had only one thing to say to me, "You never waste another person's time".
This was so relevent to me, that I never did it to anyone again.
Today, I am grateful for Sharon's lunch visit, even if we had different agendas. I am grateful for the lunch I eventually had with Bill, too. We did become friends. He even attended my wedding!
People have always commented on how naiive I am. You may have, too, as you read this article. But I don't see myself that way. I just like people and know that most everyone has something interesting to share.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
"The Firsts of 14+ Years"
This message is for all of my customers, friends and family who have supported my passion for organics: Thank You. I hope you enjoy the next several installments of how Organic Matters came to be 14+ years old.
The store has given me so many "firsts" in my life: painting a room for the first time, accumulating enough money to help buy our first house, learn the craft of buying, starting our family, discovering how to over-buy, learning how to stop buying when over-bought, learning to balance a budget, just to mention a few things.
Having this business for 14+ years has been a tremendous education for me. I was 29 when I first opened Organic Matters with my Sister-in-law, Linda, and another business friend of our, Jolene. It was agreed that I would manage the store and be the owner on-site under their direction and help of start up costs. I would get paid pittance until the store got it's sea legs and we would all split the profits.
The concept of the store was a gathering of ideas, intuition, experience and lack of experience. All three of us knew we could work together. All three of us knew we could rely on each other. It was really Linda and myself who formally put the concept together. She was earthy, yet sophisticated, and I was earthy and sophisticated. We wanted a store that would knock people's socks off. A store that served consumerism in a totally new light. A store that would be well received, but most importantly we wanted this store to be creatively gentle to the earth.
Now Linda and Jolene had opened a really cool store across the street a year earlier, with much success, and had a good sense of what type of product mix sold in our area. Armed with that knowledge, we all three went to gift shows and bought product that fit into the before described scope, or "business plan" and planned for our store opening.
It was 1995, and we'd slated to open after Black Friday, but there was quite a bit of work to do with the building before that date.
We had sub-leased a space from a local kid's store owner who was moving out of state-quickly. So quickly, that upon receiving the new keys and opening the door the first time, our mouths dropped open to the sight of abandoned hay bales that were used as display tables, garbage cans filled with donatable merchandise, wads of clothing on the floor, broken toys and fixtures strewn among the littered invoices. Oh, did I mention the shock of red, white and navy blue walls? John and I looked at each other and dittoed, "Holy Shit!"
My Dad was in construction most of his life, so if there was any painting to do, it was on his Honey-Do list, not a job for us five children. Painting looked easy enough to do. I watched my Dad paint tens of walls in the many moves we had growing up. Choosing the color was what seemed to be the easiest for me (not my Mom's). Ah...I digress.
I first learned of primer when it came to cover the many layered red, white and blue painted walls in our newly leased space. First of all, it stinks, it's virtually impossible to re-use the brush, but did it do it's job! One coat and the space had a serene feel-just as was intended.
We chose an eggshell color for most of the walls and ceiling, then a beautiful sea foam green color to accent the newly built (and permanent) shelving units, replete with crown molding.
The first time Linda opened her can of paint and "just started painting a wall" was shocking for me. I asked myself, "Whoa...won't she get in trouble for doing that? Where's Dad? Shouldn't he supervise to make sure she won't get paint on the industrial dark blue and gray rug?" She painted not only with confidence (I could tell she had been allowed to do this before), but with purpose. She re-dipped, and then I got excited. I wanted to do this! It had to be my turn.
I will never forget the feeling of the first time I stared at my open paint can and dipped my new brush into the top 1/8th of the paint. I was (am) and artist, and not only did my Dad teach me not to get paint up to the ferrel, but my art teachers confirmed the same method. Little did I know I was metaphorically painting my next 14 years as I spread sea foam green over the primer ed shelving unit like I spread Nutella on bread at home. They both went on creamy, opaque and just a few inches long.
Like owning a business, this feeling, this freedom was the first step toward growth.
To be continued...
This message is for all of my customers, friends and family who have supported my passion for organics: Thank You. I hope you enjoy the next several installments of how Organic Matters came to be 14+ years old.
The store has given me so many "firsts" in my life: painting a room for the first time, accumulating enough money to help buy our first house, learn the craft of buying, starting our family, discovering how to over-buy, learning how to stop buying when over-bought, learning to balance a budget, just to mention a few things.
Having this business for 14+ years has been a tremendous education for me. I was 29 when I first opened Organic Matters with my Sister-in-law, Linda, and another business friend of our, Jolene. It was agreed that I would manage the store and be the owner on-site under their direction and help of start up costs. I would get paid pittance until the store got it's sea legs and we would all split the profits.
The concept of the store was a gathering of ideas, intuition, experience and lack of experience. All three of us knew we could work together. All three of us knew we could rely on each other. It was really Linda and myself who formally put the concept together. She was earthy, yet sophisticated, and I was earthy and sophisticated. We wanted a store that would knock people's socks off. A store that served consumerism in a totally new light. A store that would be well received, but most importantly we wanted this store to be creatively gentle to the earth.
Now Linda and Jolene had opened a really cool store across the street a year earlier, with much success, and had a good sense of what type of product mix sold in our area. Armed with that knowledge, we all three went to gift shows and bought product that fit into the before described scope, or "business plan" and planned for our store opening.
It was 1995, and we'd slated to open after Black Friday, but there was quite a bit of work to do with the building before that date.
We had sub-leased a space from a local kid's store owner who was moving out of state-quickly. So quickly, that upon receiving the new keys and opening the door the first time, our mouths dropped open to the sight of abandoned hay bales that were used as display tables, garbage cans filled with donatable merchandise, wads of clothing on the floor, broken toys and fixtures strewn among the littered invoices. Oh, did I mention the shock of red, white and navy blue walls? John and I looked at each other and dittoed, "Holy Shit!"
My Dad was in construction most of his life, so if there was any painting to do, it was on his Honey-Do list, not a job for us five children. Painting looked easy enough to do. I watched my Dad paint tens of walls in the many moves we had growing up. Choosing the color was what seemed to be the easiest for me (not my Mom's). Ah...I digress.
I first learned of primer when it came to cover the many layered red, white and blue painted walls in our newly leased space. First of all, it stinks, it's virtually impossible to re-use the brush, but did it do it's job! One coat and the space had a serene feel-just as was intended.
We chose an eggshell color for most of the walls and ceiling, then a beautiful sea foam green color to accent the newly built (and permanent) shelving units, replete with crown molding.
The first time Linda opened her can of paint and "just started painting a wall" was shocking for me. I asked myself, "Whoa...won't she get in trouble for doing that? Where's Dad? Shouldn't he supervise to make sure she won't get paint on the industrial dark blue and gray rug?" She painted not only with confidence (I could tell she had been allowed to do this before), but with purpose. She re-dipped, and then I got excited. I wanted to do this! It had to be my turn.
I will never forget the feeling of the first time I stared at my open paint can and dipped my new brush into the top 1/8th of the paint. I was (am) and artist, and not only did my Dad teach me not to get paint up to the ferrel, but my art teachers confirmed the same method. Little did I know I was metaphorically painting my next 14 years as I spread sea foam green over the primer ed shelving unit like I spread Nutella on bread at home. They both went on creamy, opaque and just a few inches long.
Like owning a business, this feeling, this freedom was the first step toward growth.
To be continued...
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