(My daughter is sitting on my lap with her knuckle up her nose, making very strange noises. She is trying to talk me into letting her make brownies. I’m a little scared. She reminds me of myself at that age. “And who’s going to clean the kitchen?” I ask.
“My robot monkey butler,” she answers without missing a beat. Why am I just now finding out we had one of those on staff? Because I have an elephant to eat and I could use some help.
I have this very realistic idea of what I want to do. Soon you will come to me and say, “Dahling (because we talk like that), here’s my idea.” And I will spin the rest of the marketing plan into place, turning you into a wildly successful solo-preneur. With my HR background, I’ll even get your structure built if you decide to scale without outsourcing. I’ll bring my team. It should take a week. Good thing you are well-capitalized because I’ll charge a ton, but it will be fun, value-driven, and entirely worth it.
Alternately, there’s the life alignment, shamanistic wise woman advisor track. It may involve the chewing of raw, organic kamut grass, the smudging of sage, and a deeper discernment of your soul’s mission at its stage. It requires connecting with the emotional side, the intuition bits, some training and more fairy woo woo circling, but I’m meeting some really cool people and I like the platform for making sense out of the spirit / soul / human connection. Kind of makes me want to rub my temples with pine and lavender…
To do the yogini thing, I’d need to start doing yoga and eating well, and high fructose corn syrup is kind of what’s getting me through this transition period. Plus I can’t afford the Sabbatical to transform. On the side of option #3 is my affinity for lentils, so there’s that…
The problem is I see the future and I want it today. I want to be the entirely comprehensive digital business coach; the fully intuitive personal life alignment coach and healer; the bastion of all that is raw extreme health. None of these comes without expertise, dues-paying, and heads-on confrontation of the high fructose corn syrup issue. I want to eat the whole elephant, not break it into bits. It’s not like my jaws unhinge, dammit. If you’ve ever felt like this you know what a big deal it is: breaking big dreams into manageable, executionable pieces. Bites of elephant.
Here’s the good news: I found out about the robot monkey butler. I could use his help.
(Dear PETA, the elephant in the above story is a literary device; he isn’t kosher. Why would I eat him? Get over yourselves! The robot monkey butler is more robot than monkey, so you can let that one go too.)