It is not enough, it whispered.

Be quiet, I shouted back.

You see, while my book is selling steadily and speaking engagements provide great windfalls, my income is made up mostly of a string of coaching sessions.

In addition to this, I have worked hard, the last six years to make sure I HAD a string of coaching sessions.

So what is this business of “not enough?”

Well, I would tell any client ever so wisely: that’s growth.

As life coaches, we know all about growth and we are quick to recognize the perfect timing in other people’s lives. Often times, we excel at it. And yet, this was hard.

When I took a little time to converse with that nagging voice, I was quick to hear that while I still love coaching, doing it one, one, one, was the part that no longer felt like enough.

I wanted to reach more people at one time. I wanted … more.

And that is how, one day in early August, I got the idea in my head that I wanted to “do a radio show.”

The idea was quiet at first. It lived within my thoughts for a day or so. And then it asked for more room.

So, I mentioned the idea to my partner, Chris who is always great at hearing what I don’t say. In a way, I was hoping he would tell me that it made no sense. He did not.

Being a guy, he started doing some research on “what kind of equipment we should buy.” I think that he relished the notion of creating a full blown recording studio in our house and could already envision all the wires (he loves wires) that would make this whole thing possible.

Me, I hate wires.

While he jotted down the names of various important electronic “things,” I googled “how to start a radio show very simply.” This lead me, within three clicks, to a site that claimed I could start my own radio show, from my home, using only my telephone and my laptop.

AT NO COST.

I recognized the flow; it was familiar. Creation was at work, here, and if I remained available, plenty of good stuff would be on its way to me. I had experienced this before many times.

I mentioned this site and its promises to Chris, who seemed a little skeptical and yet, knowing the way things sometimes happen around here, decided to take a break from his research and watch what would happen next.

The idea was that by spending a little time learning my way around BlogTalkRadio, I could have the whole thing set up and ready to go within a few hours.

I LOVE being able to speed ahead with a project!

So I did.

I signed up and started inventing a radio show. Being able to just “play” on the site without any financial commitment gave me a lot of freedom and allowed the concept to develop gently.

I really did not know how I would do this… would I pick a topic and discuss it?

Would I ask my clients to call in and ask me questions?

Would I discuss my book? I had no idea.

But somehow, it felt like fun and I also sensed that I had very little to lose.

Before I could schedule the first (and possibly last) episode, I needed to give the show a name. Chris asked me what I would call a situation where I would have a few people come over to my place to chat. Immediately, my native tongue jumped up and said “Chez Laura!” While it did sound a little bit like the name of a restaurant, I loved the idea of giving this new adventure a French name and the more I said it, the better it sounded. “Chez Laura” means “at Laura’s place” and that had a flavor of intimacy and comfort that felt just right.

Then it was a matter of picking a date and now that the whole thing was starting to emerge into an exciting form, I did not want to wait.

I scheduled the show for Aug 22, sent out announcements to everyone I knew and spent a few days wondering excitedly what the heck I was doing.

The day of the show arrived and I sat at my desk, phone in hand and staring at “the switchboard” on my computer … ready to go!

The automatic system let me know that my show would start in 5 seconds and there I was, on the air!!!!

Also, on the air, as it turned out, were the Navy jets that sometimes fly over our island.

As soon as the show started, they started too! They were SO loud, I could not help but laugh at the timing.

Pretty soon a couple of clients called. They had great questions and I found myself doing a couple of mini-coaching sessions right there on the radio! It was a blast. We all laughed at the technical difficulties of dealing with the jets and of me learning the system while talking with them.

By the time the show was over, I was hooked and decided that I would definitely want to do it again.

Maybe I would even do one a month. Chris suggested that I do one a week. That seemed crazy.

And then, within a few days, I heard from people who had listened in and had loved it and had gotten a lot from hearing me work with the callers.

Once a week it would be. But what would I talk about?

Once again, Chris came to the rescue: “Just talk with your friends. They’re an interesting bunch.” I wasn’t sure how to take this but … I did talk to them.

I booked my best friend who is a health wizard and who shared her great knowledge. I booked another friend who is a successful artist – and  who was told in kindergarten that she had no talent. I booked another life coach. And little by little, I found myself booking anyone who has an interesting story to tell. Friend or not.

I am finding more confidence in inviting guests and guess what? Barbara Sher will be my guest on Nov 3 at 2PM (come listen!)

The show has taken off like wildfire. Every week, I run into someone who has heard it and this always surprises and delights me.

I found that the skills learned through life coaching are the perfect skills needed to interview someone in a genuine, curious way. In fact, I never prepare for an interview and try to have minimum contact with my guest before the show because I want to be 100% fresh and ask the same questions my audience might be asking.

 To tell you the truth, I am still not sure why I am doing this. I do not get paid and it takes quite a bit of my time. But I know, for sure, that it is the right thing for me to be doing right now … and if there is any part of you that feels that you want to share your gifts in this way too … I highly recommend you go for it!

But it was time to leave and time to say goodbye. Time to say thank you, too.

As I heard the sounds of last minute doors slamming and children calling, I walked over to the front of the house and stood on the deck, my arms wide open.

I said goodbye.

Goodbye to the lake that had been my daily inspiration. Goodbye to the summer screeches of people playing on the water, music blasting and reminding me of how much fun can come from speed and loud toys. Goodbye to the sweet little farmhouses on the other side of the water who had provided me with a sense of human companionship as I spent winter days cocooned up in my cozy home, writing or painting, the lake a quiet shade of Payne’s gray. Goodbye also to the eagles who had flown so close to me that I could see their eyes and who knew to perform the perfect dances at the perfect times. Finally – and that was maybe the hardest part – goodbye to The Mountain.

Mount Baker, in its faraway beauty, had once again been my companion through many pieces of life. Big, strong, somehow strangely feminine despite its male-like strength, Mt Baker had shown itself to me in eerily bright pink morning light, in barely there ghost-like presence bathed in thick fog, in glorious white snowiness; it had often hid behind the Washington clouds and yet, somehow, its majesty remained palpable. I could count on Mt Baker to remind me of how small whatever was bothering me really was and I could count on Mt Baker to celebrate how important what was thrilling me really was.

Starting tomorrow morning, I would have to do without.

I was ready.

So, moved we did and within a few days we were happily settled into our new home, excitedly discovering its own set of gifts.

The water, once again, was part of our daily delight as we watched the tankers cross the channel pulled by tiny tugboats.

Summer was mostly spent on the deck and I still got to connect with “my” mountain during frequent trips to town. I missed its constant presence and yet, having said goodbye, I was resigned to the form of our new relationship.

And then, one day, it happened.

A friend was visiting from out of town and he was standing on the deck, enjoying the sweetness of the late summer.

Casually, he turned towards me and said: “nice mountain.”

My mind stopped for a second as I wondered if he was being facetious. Did he know about my determined goodbyes of late? Did he know about my loss? What was he trying to say?

Before my mouth could catch up to my thoughts, my eyes followed his and landed… right on the tippy-top of Mt Baker.

My feet were decidedly anchored onto the deck of our new home and I was looking straight at It. At Him. At Her.

It took me a little while to explain to my guest that, well, really, I did not know that the mountain was there. He seemed slightly surprised and his attention moved on to other things.

That gave me a chance to take a second look at my old companion – who might very well have been smiling – and to breathe deeply. Granted, this was no longer the breathtaking, full-on view that we knew. This was a more intimate view, framed perfectly by two swooping branches of pine trees who might have grown exactly for the purpose of doing just that.

As it turns out, and upon overly casual questioning, everyone in the home knew about our Mountain view. No one had deemed it worth mentioning because… heck, no one had said goodbye.

So here you go, the Gift of Mt Baker:

I did not see the Mountain because I had said goodbye to it.

The day that we decided to move, I had began mourning its presence.

Never, did I consider the possibility of it coming with us. And so, when it did, I could not see it.

Mt. Baker had once again accompanied me on an important journey and that felt very right.

That’s a big deal and the magnitude of its message was not lost on me: Where else was I NOT seeing something because I had decided that it would not be there? Where else was I deciding in advance the way something might turn out?

And really, where else might we all be doing this?

During that time period, I tended to give my attention mostly to:

1) what was right in front of me

2) whatever was at risk of burning

3) whoever was teething

One busy fall afternoon, the phone rang and a very nice man informed me that he had purchased some of our famous chocolate cookies, while visiting Anacortes a few weeks prior. He said that he had found them to be so extraordinary that he wanted us to ship him a few dozen to his work address, in Chicago. He then went on to explain that he was working as producer of the Oprah show and that he knew everyone on the show would enjoy the cookies.

Thinking back, I am imagining that he may, at that point in the conversation, have paused to let me absorb the potential implications of his phone call. Maybe he did not – but I like to think that he did.

Well, to me, his call held no implications greater than the inconvenience of having to box the darn cookies, then walk over to the post office and ship them. I had not watched TV in so long, I am pretty sure I had only a very, very vague idea of who Oprah was, if any. My world was pretty much limited to the 5 blocks between the bakery and our home, and there was never enough time for anything, let alone television or magazines. I know… I know… believe me, I know. As I said, this was another lifetime.

So, we shipped the cookies and for the next several months, the man called and reordered pretty regularly. Every time, I would see it as a slight inconvenience and was kinda hoping that he would eventually tire of the super-duper chocolatey goodies. You see, I had birthday cakes to make and customers to keep happy, babies to feed and could not help but being mildly annoyed at the distraction – I had to make money, here!

Ha.

Well, sure enough, the calls eventually stopped coming and I was left once again, to my very real and very in-front-of-my-face concerns. Good.

Well, of course it was NOT good. Of course it was soooooooooo nearsighted and downright, well… not good. Geee.

Should this happen today, I would be on the next plane to Chicago, delivering the cookies myself, getting testimonials from Oprah, milking this opportunity for all it could give me, and getting a huge amount of publicity for the bakery. I would make enough cookies to feed the show’s audience, I would move to Chicago, I would… Ok, I am exaggerating. BUT I sure would do … something.

Yikes.

Yet somehow, when I think back about it, such as I am doing right now, I am not hugely frustrated. In fact I am almost amused and I even feel a little tenderness for the young woman that I was. Part of me wishes I had known better, that I had slowed down and raised my floured nose from the mixer long enough to see what a great opportunity that was. And part of me knows that it simply was not the right time.

It’s okay.

And, you know what? The lessons live on much longer than any publicity stunt ever would have:

Lesson #1
Slow down!

Lesson #2
Pay attention.

Lesson #3
Get off automatic pilot.

Lesson #4
Do not allow yourself to become so overwhelmed that shipping a box of cookies becomes a burden. Cookies are good and they are important. They need to be shared. A lot.

Lesson #5
Opportunities come and go and if we are not ready, well, we are not ready. The damage comes not from missing an opportunity but from beating ourselves up forever after. New opportunities will present themselves if we open up to them.

So, here I am, years later and still shaking my head.

I bet that guy was shaking his for a long time…

So, tell me: where in your life, might you be missing out on a call from Oprah because you’re nose-deep in cake frosting?

And tell me again: for what silly oversight or mistake are you ready to forgive yourself?

There is something about his words that I initially mistake for aggressivity and for a second, I am not sure what to say.

This is the end of a full two hours of “Ask Laura,” an event where I basically show up, stand in front of a room full of people and answer whatever questions they throw my way. This is an opportunity to hopefully pass on some helpful words to people who may not ordinarily work with a coach. While it is an exciting time for me, it is a little unnerving also, as I am most definitely there with no preparation; in front of a lot of eyes.

A few laughs follow his question as I extract myself away from my original assumption and ask him quietly: “What do you mean?”

This is when he tells me that he wonders whether I have had to work at being a happy person or whether “I was just born that way.”

His request seems genuine enough and as I work my way toward the most truthful answer I have, I let go of most of my uneasiness about the question.

Most of it.

Two days later, I am sitting in a coffee shop, writing an article, when a woman walks in and sits at a table next to me. Two other people are already around the table, sipping something warm and the three of them immediately begin chatting.

Within a couple of minutes, I overhear that she has just finished running for 24 hours. Yep, a 24-hour race. All of a sudden, my article seems much less important and I am clearly eavesdropping. The woman is now explaining about headlamps and gooey energy gel food and I can feel my eyes sliding from my article to her body. She is about my age and her legs are those of a statue. Her arms make me want to grab a piece of charcoal and capture them on a napkin.

Of course, as we tender humans often do, I am quickly superimposing her situation with mine. I am comparing what I am guessing to be her perfectly toned belly to what I know to be my … less than perfectly toned belly. I am comparing her performance of late with the way I get a little out of breath climbing the local library steps (which are very steep, thank you very much).

It is no fun.

And that is when I hear myself wonder: “Has she always been like this?”

Bingo.

All of a sudden, I get it. I get the man’s question and I get what he was really asking for: Hope.

When faced with something we desire, we need hope. So, we ask for hope.

What the man from the event was really asking me was “Do I have a chance at being happy too? Can I change?”

What I was really wondering, sitting in the coffee shop was “Do I have a chance at a toned belly, too? Can I change?”

Because really, if it is all a pre-assigned sort of thing, then we might as well all go back to bed right now.

On the other hand, if we can stand in front of someone whom we admire and hear that “they have not always been like this,” now we have hope. Now, we can relax a little and start asking questions.

Big difference.

And I see now that this is partly why, in my work and in my life, I have always been committed to letting others see where I have been.

This is why I take a breath, during a call with a client who is ashamed of her tax troubles and tell her about my own scary two-year adventure within the world of the IRS.

This is why, during a book signing, I talk briefly with a young woman who has not been able to find a job in a long time and is now beginning to feel desperate about money; why I tell her about the time when I once fed my kids from a box I had picked up at the food bank.

This is why I willingly tell those very kids about the times I have messed up and this is also why I have occasionally let them see me with a broken heart.

Because for these people to know me today, at peace with the IRS, solvent, functional and happy gives them hope.

Specifically because “I have not always been like this.” And hope is good stuff.

So, let’s put some of our self-consciousness aside and share our beautiful, unique life colors with those who ask. Let’s contribute to the rich brew of fully lived experiences so that we may also drink from its cup.

Finally, let’s remember the excitement that springs from intentional change and from celebrating who we are today.

Especially if “we have not always been like this.”