What Do I Want? What Do I Really, Really Want?

One thing you discover when you are bereaved is that – unbelievably – the sun goes on rising and setting.

And so it is in The Fertile Void.   Sunrise. Sunset. Sunrise. Sunset.  Day after day.   I start to get back into TV courtesy of BBC iplayer. Not a good thing.   Its all very relaxing and enjoyable but it sucks all the creativity out of me and actually I often end up resentful.   And I even got sucked into stuff I love too – 24, Grey’s Anatomy, The Good Wife, Glee, QI, Jonathan Ross, Over the Rainbow and BGT.   Thank Goodness most of its over now.   What a drain!   Now I remember why I got rid of the telly originally.

During January and February I work on an authentic marketing re-brand of JudithMorgan.com with Claire Raikes. Together with Sandra we create an Inner Circle, migrate my email list from Just Add Content (JAC) over to AWeber, lose 500 of my readers in the process who never make the switch, launch a really juicy competition to tempt them to double opt-in, invent the Better Business Brigade and launch it, sell a series of Cashflow games, create Goals Groups and Shed Sessions in the Abundance Shed as it is now known and tweak and twist that website and that business ad nauseam.   But it’s still not right, its not what I want to do in so many ways.   And yet it is.

I was unable to get the email signature Claire created for me ever to work, even with Sandra’s help and I lose the heart for blogging and Twittering.   I have nothing to communicate, my creative well has run dry.   But I am beginning to be a bit of a Drama Queen now actually and, fortunately, part of me knows this is only temporary.

Although I love, love, love my clients, business coaching and mentoring is something I can do and shall continue to do all my life but it isn’t in my flow.   According to my Wealth Profile, I am a Creator and I must create to live, to breathe, to excel.   I know this with every fibre of my being but during January and February my mojo went gone walkabout as I dealt with my own emotional loss and loosened my attachments to the aforementioned dominoes and tried to reinvent myself as a business woman and entrepreneur.

I am fortunate that during this time I drew to me some people in my Cashflow posse who I love spending time with once a month in the Abundance Shed – put to good and creative use at last with Sonja, Peter, Matthew, Sara, Amanda & Antonietta.   Nice attraction principles at play there.

And some gorgeous new clients snap up the offer of the Better Business Brigade – Ntathu, Fee, Antonietta & MaryAnn to name but a few, recognising it for the stonking bargain it is, one even pays a year’s fees in advance for a deep discount.

And some others who find me direct, both via Facebook bizarrely – Paul & Christopher who this week telephoned me to tell me he had got married and it was all “my fault”!   I love that.

And lease options people beging to show up too.

Joys, all of them.   I am a lucky woman indeed and thus the income starts the trickle back towards me, doing work I love.

I snoop around LifeUK and get on board in a desultory way; its a brilliant idea but I didnt create it so ultimately it will never satisfy me.

My youngest nephew has his 18th birthday party, my old friend Lorna comes from Italy back to live near me, my brother and sister-in-law move house – as I said, life goes on.   DON’T THEY KNOW I’M IN THE FERTILE VOID???

Marie and I go to see the Angels Lady, Lorna Byrne at Alternatives.

And Bianca and Niki and I drive to Hatfield, to Annie’s house, for the Browniefest that is an evening with Joe Noonan and Jennifer Hough.   We meet up with loads of fab chums: Diane, Donna, Matthew, Daniela, Janet, Sarah and Sunita to name but a few.   We are so discombobulated by the special brand of Noonan-Hough magic, that we inadvertently drive NORTH on the M1 on the way home.

At this time I remember working through two to three distinct personal development exercises, one with Frank Kern who Yvonne put me in touch with, one exercise which Bianca made me do and another, I forget which now.   I think it was the combination of the three of those exercises, the dark days at the end of my own personal winter of discontent which made me, one day, put pen to paper and write down what I really wanted in my life.

I should say that pen to paper is metaphorical for keys to keyboard, but here was the end result:

What Do I Want?

PEACE and time to COMMUNICATE well in written and spoken word.

  • Total Debt Freedom including tax, credit cards, loans, HSBC and Egg = £140,000
  • Plus Mortgages paid off too – £800,000 approx
  • Financial Integrity at £3,000 pcm residual/passive/blogging/club
  • Time to read and write – 3 months in the Caribbean whenever I want
  • Radio Show
  • TRIBE- One Million Entrepreneurs
  • Eat Pure, Live well, great gums!
  • Tax Freedom

I realised in writing this down that I was sick to death of serving about a thousand entrepreneurs, and I wanted to serve a much bigger group – about a million of them, Beloveds that they all are to me.

Sadly I can’t find the date I wrote this document but I know it was during February 2010 because it led me swiftly and directly thereafter to my Social Enterprise, TheMillionEntrepreneurs, the URL for which I formed on 25th February.

Marion helped me with the idea of connecting with the Entrepreneurs via their Dreams, and gave me the final URL.

Steve helped me find the model of a website which just listed comments as its Home page.

And Sandra took on the project and made it so over the next couple of months.

Ta Da!   I’m not yet out of The Fertive Void but there is light at the end of the tunnel.   30th October 2009 to 25th February 2010, the longest, darkest period of my adult life in peace and darkness and confusion and uncertainty. But now at last I have something new on which to hang my Creator’s hat.

And, by golly, its B E A U T I F U L.

Again, I am thankful and excited and motivated and inspired.   Now all I have to do is draw to me the teams of magic people who will help me bring my new baby into the world.

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