This month, Nalumana turns two.
(incidentally, last month, so did my son, which conjures up many an image of me writing blog posts while nursing my newborn in those early days)
These past two years have seen this little business – and me – grow and change so much. I have gotten so much clearer about my purpose with this work than I was even six months ago, let alone two years ago. My original business plan, somewhat confusing and lacking in focus, no longer even remotely represents the work I do today.
I often cling to my Big Ideas and see them through against all odds. This can be a great strength of mine, and also a bit of a challenge, when my dog-with-a-bone way of being gets in the way of what is appropriate, sane, or meant to happen. But with the evolution of Nalumana, I have been able to allow my work to morph easily, and decisions about what to shift have come intuitively along the way.
I think that it is only by doing this work that I’ve learned precisely what it is. No longer a disjointed set of offerings by an ambitious multipotentialite,
Nalumana has a singular focus to support women going through transition in their lives.
But more specifically, this support is about showing women to their inner knowing, to their own power to change and heal and nurture themselves. This is the powerful foundation of both my doula support and coaching services, and it is through this kind of support that times of transition find the potential to be truly transformational.
And as my work continues to grow and develop, I have come to know that I want to support women to navigate through transformation in some of my favourite ways – the ones that have formed the basis of my own transformation and personal growth. In the past year this has been a deep focus, as I’ve continued to build a strong sense of community, and hosted women’s circles and retreats that help women ground the experience of their own transformation into the changing of the seasons and the wisdom of Mother Earth.
But all that being said, this past year has been one of bearing down, if you’ll excuse my birth analogy. This little business of mine has been labouring along quite nicely, and since this time last year, my focus has truly been to put in the sweat and tears (thankfully, no blood has been shed) to birth this work into the world in a bigger way.
I’m not immune to the Facebook ads that tell me that I’m one free webinar away from a six figure year, and so the feeling of waking at 4a.m. every morning to write, of scheduling most if not all of my weekday evenings for workshops and meetings and networking, of carving out tiny snippets of my day to schedule social media posts sometimes makes me wonder if I’m doing it *right.* There are long nights at births, the excitement and vulnerability of signing on a new coaching client, and many many *many* hours spent
showing up.
Time and time and time again.
I’ve sometimes hesitated, even with my own coaching clients who are beginning an entrepreneurial journey, to be completely frank about how much work this has been. Our current culture (at least the hippie granola one I partake in) has this notion that things that don’t come with ease and without effort are not meant to be.
But when I’ve made my 4a.m. cuppa and I’m busily typing out blog posts and coaching resources, I try to draw on an older ethic. It’s the one of generations of self-employed folks before me – the painters and farmers and shop owners – who knew that the first two years of business would be the hardest. Who knew that one’s own paycheque wasn’t a given, perhaps, in those first years of business. Who knew the the value of just showing up, every single day, and did so, without questioning, and without letting their self-doubt get the best of them.