That's What She Said

I was going to blog about social constructs today because these constructs shape our behavior and determine much of who we are or who we think we should be, but I need, instead, to write about psychics. You know, fortune tellers. Without the fake accents and the scarves and the crystal balls but with the intensity and weirdly maternal energy. I'm pretty sure having consulted one (or two) reveals something about where I fit into one social construct or another:  female, mother, middle-class, confused, limited by design, I don't know. But there are a few things I do know. And insights I learned from the fortune-telling experience.

I consulted my first psychic ten years ago, stepped, on a Tuesday night, into her single-room, house-like office that has since been sold to a tax firm whose signage is larger but less intriguing than the psychic's welcome message (I'm pretty sure those tax letters don't flash). When I knocked on the woman's door after having opened the screen, she greeted me with almost as much trepidation as I had for the experience. She cocked her head and asked a few questions, then brought me quickly into the room where she led me to a chair across from the bench she would be occupying and announced  the fee before beginning with a few proclamations about me. Yes, the first thing she said was correct, and yes, the second felt right too. And then we chatted more freely as I wondered if she'd casually guessed these things. Was I that transparent? Or was someone googling me from the bathroom and feeding her information through an ear piece? Maybe both, though I didn't worry too much about it. We were flowing, I was listening, she was speaking, I was responding, smiling, a little in awe. And then she said something  I wasn't prepared for, something ostensibly meant for someone else, someone who had studied anything but French literature and creative writing. She said, you have a clear head for business. I didn't respond to that one, just stared, and she leaned forward, closer, with her hand on her forehead and said again, You have a strong sense of business. I told her I was a writer and an instructor but she simply repeated what she'd determined. And I listened some more and smiled and cocked my head right back at her and gave her the cash and contemplated, for a moment, whether she was right because wouldn't that be nice?

Then I left. And I stopped thinking about her premonitions. And I didn't make a change. I didn't brainstorm ideas or develop a plan. I kept my academic job; I raised my kids: I volunteered in my kids school: I even applied for a volunteer spot on San Jose's Arts Commission (which I love, btw). But I didn't start a business.  Still haven't.

But recently I've been thinking that about consulting or coaching or being the proprietor of a champagne truck (very cool but maybe not very legal). I've been exploring possibilities, visiting my desires, my dreams, my strengths and competencies. Because I need to create something and would love to add value, finally, outside of the classroom.

Plus I live in Silicon Valley, and no one in Silicon Valley is completely impervious to business or has zero understanding of the ways to run one. We know, generally, the major pieces that create and sustain a small business. We have a basic understanding of planning, funding, creating, branding, marketing, and selling. Sure, I have much to learn, but. . . I have a good head for business. :) And I've always enjoyed connecting with people, which is why I teach and why I write, and believe that now I can connect in new ways. With a business. To serve individuals, to help them achieve the happiness and fulfillment they know they deserve but are unable to find. And to earn some cash and some respect. To give back but live well. To have a professional purpose and a professional salary. It's time.

So I hope the fortune teller who has either skipped town or become a tax accountant was right. I can do this.

This isn't exactly how it went down.