Arminda Lindsay

Being On Purpose

Nail Salon Epiphany

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Tracy does my nails. I have an exclusive, albeit only in my head, contract with her, alone, to tend and maintain all twenty of my phalanges. We’re coming up on our three-year anniversary in a couple of months and Tracy recently gave me her cell phone number so I can text her directly to schedule my mani/pedi. So we’re at that level of commitment. 

Last week I messaged Tracy, asking for a slot in her day; it was time to update my color. I showed up promptly at four o’clock, handed Tracy my bag of polishes (I always bring my own), and turned on the chair massage. Settling back with my (also always with me) book du jour I relaxed into knowing everything was now taken care of and my only responsibility was to be sure I tipped well at the end of this service. 

Exactly 18 hours later, at 10:30 Thursday morning, I cracked the big toenail of my left foot. It was an innocent ottoman relocation stunt that resulted in my using the direct-line to my pedicurist, begging for help. Tracy gave me a time to come back and I showed up early, bag of polishes in-hand. In a matter of minutes, a torn paper towel, some adhesive, and fresh polish I was as good as new. My toenail would have to be inspected microscopically for you to notice any disruption or visible flaw. Impressed? I was beyond thrilled, amazed, and deeply grateful to Tracy for her mastery of trade.

She refused to take any money from me. We argued back and forth and she was having none of it. I left the salon better than I entered, but questioning the entire transaction of which I’d just been privy. I, the customer, wanted to compensate her, the service provider, for the labor she’d provided. She refused.

I spent a lot of time reviewing that situation. I discussed it with my husband, a landscape architect, and with Lisa Fields, the owner of Media Staffing Network. I looked through my own lens as a leadership coach, and you probably landed on the big picture quicker than it’s taken me to type this story down. 

Business owner Tracy gets it. She understands that she depends on me to keep coming back, manicure after manicure, to give her the repeat business she builds her business on. The five-minute fix of a broken toenail is her investment back into me; it’s her way of thanking me for continuing to call. She needs me in the same way that I need her. Our relationship is symbiotic and requires both of us making deposits for it to grow. 

I needed this up close and personal demonstration of relationship building to remind me to check in on my own customers. In what ways am I investing in them, to thank them for their repeat business? Do they feel special because they have my direct number and can reach me when they have something that’s broken that I can easily and quickly fix?

I can’t wait to see Tracy for my next appointment. She gets all my nail money and then some, because she gets me, and I love how much she understands my specific needs.

What are the “five-minute fixes” you provide for your repeat customers? How do you thank your clients for coming back?

Lemonade in Pompeii

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Several years ago we ate our way through Italy, from top to tip, like normal people. Everything seemed larger than life, from the brick ovens that magically produced our made-to-order pizzas (I’m looking at you, Gusta Pizza), to a calzone that was bigger than my daughter’s head (I have photographic evidence), to the ginormous lemons growing in terraces on the cliffs of the Amalfi Coast. Our eyes, as well as our stomachs, feasted for weeks on-end. We came, we saw, we ate, on repeat.

One of our day trips was a thorough exploration of ancient Pompeii and I have multiple articles I could write on that day, but today’s discussion is not in fact on Pompeii. It’s about the lemons.

For days before we even got to Pompeii I had been looking at, noticing, and observing, all the lemons covering the countryside we were traveling. Agerola down to the Amalfi Coast is particularly stunning with its terraced orchards vertically dotting the mountainside. From the switchback road down the mountain, my view of the lemon orchards was distant, at best.

I was no stranger to lemon trees having spent three years living in southern California, where you can lean out your kitchen window and pick citrus from the tree in your own backyard. These Italian lemons were something else entirely, though. They were, it seemed from my remote vantage point, massive.

There we were, walking the ancient streets of Pompeii on such a hot June day, I kept glancing up at Mount Vesuvius to be sure she wasn’t putting out anything extra. She was quiet and I was parched. As soon as we exited the turnstiles leaving Pompeii behind us, the pizza and lemonade stands appeared before us like a mirage in the late afternoon heat.

Without hesitation, I ran straight to the lemons because

1. This was my first opportunity to witness them up close and with my own eyes confirm they are, in fact, ginormous, and

2. I could already taste the refreshment a cold glass of lemonade against the oppressive dust of Pompeii was about to give me.

I paid the woman for her largest lemonade and am not entirely sure I waited for the cup to transfer from her hands to mine before I started gulping it down. Not my proudest moment, of course. But even less impressive was when — mere moments later — I immediately spat back out all that I had just so quickly inhaled. This was not lemonade; it was lemon juice, freshly-squeezed, not chilled, not sweetened, not diluted, but straight up lemon juice. And my taste buds and stomach were not prepared for that citrusy onslaught.

My first thought: You just paid a lot of money for that and you will drink it.

My second thought: Over my dead body, which is what I will be if I keep drinking this.

My third thought: Remember that motivational speaker in high school who said, “You should always ask what you’re drinking before you put it in your mouth.”

These three thoughts tumbled on top of one another, kind of like my stomach felt with all that acid churning around in there, and the loudest new thought to rise above the clamor, was “I don’t think the Italian definition of lemonade is the same as mine.”

I have taken this experience to heart and often recall it when I need to remind myself (and perhaps you, too) to slow down and not jump into something feet first before asking all the questions and truly hearing all the answers. Whether it’s a job opportunity, an evolving relationship, or a new recipe, take a beat and identify your questions. Then get those questions answered. Then take a drink, and may all your gulps of lemonade be refreshing.

Fighting Philodendron

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We are a plant-loving family, having inherited something of a green thumb from my dad and his dad before him. During her years in Boston, my daughter acquired a variety of green companions and lovingly cared for, coaxed, and grew them into the healthiest versions of themselves. It was not uncommon for our video calls to start or end with the camera facing and zooming in on her windowsill and shelves housing her growing obsession.

Following a medical emergency, we needed to move her out of Boston and home to Birmingham for a brief period of time. Because we don’t plan or schedule the routine crises that scatter themselves along our life path, that move happened when it happened — in the middle of February as soon as the roads had cleared after Boston’s crazy bomb cyclone of 2022. I packed everything I could fit into the backseat and trunk of my car, leaving just enough space for the two of us in the front seats pulled all the way forward.

That space on the floor directly behind the passenger seat was where we put the philodendron, and the floor behind the driver’s seat was where we secured the monstera, the only two plants able to come home with us. The plants’ containers were both large enough that their girth alone secured them in place, but I wanted to keep them warm so wrapped winter coats around their bases and crossed my fingers for the many days’ journey ahead of them. The car was so tightly-packed I could not access or remove them during our drive.

Much to our dismay, the philodendron did not survive the journey. While it had thrived and grown into quite a formidable display of gorgeous variegation in its Boston windowsill, four days in subzero temperatures were more than it could handle. It was almost more than I could handle, so I get it. Conversely, the monstera, ensconced behind the driver’s seat fared much better and is bigger and better than ever today, happily growing in its place of honor on our back porch.

Not one to be deterred by a frozen philodendron, my daughter carefully dug down and discovered a section of root still living in a small patch of warm dirt. After excavating that root, she placed it in what looks like a test tube filled with water and attached it to the fridge with a magnet. Through the window above our kitchen sink the now-propagating philodendron was supplied with sufficient natural light throughout the day. And the root grew new roots.

What a marvelous thing to witness: regrowth.

Four months later, that root had pushed three bright green leaves out its top, and an intricate network of roots down below. We gently transferred it again, this time into a tiny pot filled with nutrient-rich dirt. And I carried that tiny little pot with me everywhere I went, including on vacation. I was not leaving it unattended under any circumstances. This philodendron was a fighter and in my heart had come to represent my daughter’s own fight for her life, her own regeneration in a Boston hospital six months prior.

When that philodendron moved with my daughter to New York City I wept leaving them both behind as I drove the long road back to Birmingham alone in an empty car. And when, a year later, my daughter brought it back to me to tend and care for for always, I cried again. That fighting philodendron is never far from my sight and is always in my heart. “We’re so proud of it!” my daughter texted me this morning when I mentioned it was to be the theme of today’s article.

I am proud of that plant. I am proud of my daughter. I am proud of myself. And I am proud of the fighter in every single one of you. Let this story of a fighting philodendron remind you that routine “crises” are a natural part of life’s path. And always those happen in the most inopportune times and seasons. We might feel frozen and unable to move, but if you do some gentle excavating, you will discover a warm patch of dirt in which you’re still beating. Hydrate, get plenty of sunshine, and grow yourself in a new pot of possibility.

Sometimes it takes being witnessed before you can see yourself reimagined. Let me know if you’d like to schedule time with me so I can help you see how green and growing you are.

For the Love of Salad

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The most important thing I’ve learned in life, and I can’t stress this enough: you gotta make a salad in a bigger bowl than you think.

@chefbae

My favorite food group is salad and I read cookbooks for fun. There, I said it and I’m not ashamed to admit it. Yesterday I read a recently-published (by Kat) and newly-purchased (by me) delight: Big Bites by Kat Ashmore. I’ve been following Kat on social media for a long time and thoroughly enjoy her Hungry Lady Salad series. It is always salad season in our family, but especially this time of year. Of course I love a good new recipe, or three, but I also love learning. I read cookbooks to learn something I don’t know. Every single time I come away with an improvement and an application for my own kitchen. And with every new learning, my cooking tastes better and better! 

Leading up to a career change, or the launching of one, I recommend this same approach, minus buying a cookbook. But you do need to do your homework. Ideally, you’re researching the company and the interviewer (if you know their name). 

1. Is this company a good fit for YOU?

2. Are you following (or looking at) them on social media?

3. Does their mission statement align with your values?

4. What position does the interviewer hold?

5. How long has the interviewer been with the company?

6. What information does Google tell you about both?

7. What does their organization value?

8. What is their timeline for filling this role?

What’s your key takeaway? How will your approach improve now that you’ve done your due diligence?

I’ll share with you my favorite new tip from Big Bites (and I can’t believe I didn’t think of this myself) — freeze leftover coconut milk in an ice cube tray and store in a freezer-safe container for future use and no more waste. 

Here’s to delicious salads and successful presentations of self. Let me know if you need my help; it’s what we’re here for. 

Regret and Fear

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In my capacity as a leadership coach, I work one-on-one with my clients and truthfully just do a lot of listening. When I do speak, it’s usually to ask questions intended to provoke and to poke holes in what I call limiting beliefs. A limiting belief is anything you hold to be true, which beliefs limit (and oftentimes prevent) your ability to move your life/career/relationship/education/finances forward. Essentially, I’m a remover of (perceived) blocks that show up in every single one of us at various stages and phases of our being human experience.

During a recent coaching session my client revealed their frustration at having just moved across the country for a new job only to discover the job wasn’t anything like what was promised in the interview phase. Not only was the actual job a surprise on arrival, but also the culture, the compensation structure, and the new city all proved to be negative environments for my client’s mental health.

“If I leave, this is going to be a red strike against my career! I’ve worked so hard to put in reasonably long stints at each of my previous employers’, so you can see I’m growing them and me.”

First, as a recruiter, let me assure you in the same way I assured my client — no one is going to give you a demerit for a short stay in a position. Quite the contrary — this now becomes a talking point in future conversations!

“Tell me what happened here?” or “What were the circumstances surrounding this situation?”

It’s that simple. Your short stay becomes an opportunity to learn more about yourself, to better define (and maintain) boundaries, and to learn better questions to ask next time. Because there will be a next time, I promise.

But how did we work through this limiting belief held by my client? What were they holding onto, and why? They were holding onto two beliefs:

  1. Regret
  2. Fear

Let’s look at the regret first — my client was tailspinning into their very recent past, replaying over and over again the “What ifs.” What if I had taken Job A or Job C instead of this Job B? What if Job A still wants me? (They don’t.) So my client was spending a LOT of time regretting the choice they made thoughtfully and in good conscience.

They were spending the rest of their time (an easy 50/50 split) paralyzed with fear of making any changes to their current, regretful, and toxic situation. What’s going to happen if I leave? Where will I go? If I leave it’s going to ruin my career!

I’m going to share with you a technique I use with myself and my clients to work my way out of limiting beliefs. If you feel stuck, ask yourself:

  1. Why do I feel stuck?
  2. What’s blocking/stopping me from taking ______ action?
  3. Am I experiencing regret?
  4. Am I afraid? Of what?

Regret and fear are clear indicators that time and energy (which we each have in limited and finite amounts) are being spent in the past and in the future, respectfully.

Regret is a harbinger of the past, of moments, experiences, and decisions that have already happened. We cannot change what was, and any thought we expend toward the past is wasted time. Conversely, fear is future-based. With rare exceptions (you encounter a bear in the woods or an active shooter in the mall), when we feel afraid, we are imagining something that does not, in fact, exist. In the case of my client, they were afraid a departure would ruin their entire (future) career.

Personally, I prefer to spend my time in the present, focusing my energy and thoughts on creating today, the tomorrow I want to enjoy. I coach and encourage my clients to do the same.

Together, my client and I created a list of questions to ask before moving to a new position, questions that came out of the very real and abrupt experience this current job has provided. We talked through that previously-mentioned Job C, which happened to extend another offer, and what would be the ideal scenario. We talked about coming back to the present, how to let go of the past and of the future every time we find ourselves in either one again.

I invite my clients to imagine they’re wearing a rubber band around their wrist. Whenever you notice and catch yourself feeling regret or fear, snap your imaginary rubber band and bring yourself back to the right now. Learning to think about the thoughts you’re thinking is hard work. It takes practice. Identifying your own personal limiting beliefs takes even more work! And then unlearning them. . . .

Listen, being human is hard. I get it and I’m here to help you navigate the learning curve, if you’d like.

Meeting David

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I met David in June and it was love at first sight. As I stared at him without his seeing me, I cried at his beauty and his magnificence. He took my breath away and I had to sit down to take all of him in. And in I took him, while alongside me sat Michelangelo, David’s creator. Together we three were quiet; while I, alone, wept. I understood that David’s magnificence was merely a reflection of Michelangelo’s own beauty, of Michelangelo’s willingness to buy into his own magnificence rather than his lack. In the beginning David was a block of stone. Michelangelo chipped away slowly and steadily, certain there was something bigger and greater and more beautiful and ready to be revealed on the inside of that stone block. He didn’t fear the tools available to him; he used them to uncover David’s greatness. And I saw that I was simultaneously David and Michelangelo: created and creator, art and artist, masterpiece and master.

What if instead of being on the receiving end of an abusive marriage, that relationship was the tool in my tool box that allowed me to reveal my greatest self? I chipped away slowly and steadily, not always certain what I might find, but certain it had to be greater than what I was at that time. It’s not about fear because fear would have kept me there, slowly dying without medical explanation. No, it wasn’t fear that removed me from that relationship; it was love. And it was my love of me that saved me for my own unveiling.

Making Peace With Food

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A Registered Dietitian Nutritionist, Eve Lahijani‘s journey to helping women (and some men) heal their relationship with food, trust their bodies and experience ease with food in any situation is only possible because she first did that for herself.

From the time she was a very young girl, Eve felt unseen, unheard and unimportant, that her voice didn’t matter. The only thing she felt she had any power over was what went into her body, when she fed herself, and what amounts were “acceptable.” Her desire to exercise her innate power became a shameful, unhealthy, obsessive, and addictive relationship with food.

I hope you enjoy this conversation. Let me know your thoughts in the comment section below!

Eve Lahijani Bio

Eve Lahijani is a Registered Dietitian Nutritionist.  She works with her clients using a non-diet approach that helps clients separate eating and food from their emotions and other issues.  She specializes in helping those who engage in emotional eating, compulsive eating and other forms of non-hunger eating.  Eve helps her clients from all over the world achieve lasting peace with their eating, having confidence in any food situation and really experience profound freedom!  In her spare time, Eve loves to paint, read and swim.

And here is Eve’s inspiring TEDx Talk

Divorce Was My Doorway

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Episode Seven is where you’ll meet Shawn Richardson: mountain climber (three of the seven summits are complete), mother (three boys, ages 24, 22 & 19), and multidimensional mover and shaker in this world!!

I love this conversation and Shawn’s vulnerable sharing of the raw unknowns she confronted in the wake of her unexpected divorce from her husband of 22 years:

  1. Who am I?
  2. Why am I here?
  3. What do I want to do?

She openly admits that the journey she’s traveled to where she stands right now was catalyzed by her divorce.

My favorite part of our discussion is listening to Shawn talk about her oldest son, Charlie, and how his life with special needs, and how she’s interpreted his life, have been “way showing” and transformational for her.

Through her pioneering work, Shawn helps adults with special needs children achieve transformational shifts in their family dynamics, professional lives, and personal experience. 

I can’t wait to see what Shawn creates next and am certain you’ll be just as excited as I am to watch her shift our global consciousness around authentic workers.

Please share your thoughts in the comments below and thanks for listening to the show!

If you’d like to join our community, click here.

The New Sexy: “I Am Enough”

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While I love and enjoy all of my guests, this conversation, in particular, holds significant personal meaning. Join me and Shelley Dunford-Hardy as we take the subject of power into the bedroom and what it means for a woman to be in her power in arguably the most intimate spaces of her Self: physically, emotionally and psychologically.

Shelley’s Favorite Tools

  • Kristin Neff and her significant work around self-compassion. Please find Dr. Neff’s website here.
  • Emotional Freedom Technique (EFT) and a link for that method can be found here.
  • Ocean Breathing: Breathe in the nose for four counts and out the mouth for three counts, repeat.
  • Exploration exercise: Checking in with what you want/enjoy and do not want/enjoy.  Each person takes a turn being a giver and a receiver. The basic words used are, Yes/Please (I like and want to keep doing this) / Maybe (I don’t like this now, but I may be open to it in the future) / No, Thank You (I do not like this and do not want to do it).

Shelley Dunford-Hardy Bio

A licensed Marriage and Family Therapist (LMFT) for over twelve years, Shelley has a bachelor’s degree in Education, and masters’ degrees in both Clinical Psychology and Spiritual Psychology. She has a passion for helping individuals and couples learn, heal, grow and thrive through challenging experiences in their lives. Shelley’s specialty trainings include Emotion Focus Therapy (EFT) and Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR). She has worked several years with individuals, and their spouses healing from pornography and sex addiction. Shelley loves traveling, painting, hiking and spending time with her family. She has been married for thirty-two years and has four children. You can find her at her website.

Emma Holmes: I Found Out Accidentally!

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A scratch DJ, coach and surfer splitting her time between England and Hawaii, Emma Holmes is living the life she imagines every single day and shows others how to do the same.

Emma created and runs School of Scratch – one of the world’s leading online training platforms for Scratch DJs to learn the art of scratching and is dedicated to assisting others become excellent at the art of scratching.

In her work as a coach, Emma is an ambassador of stoke, empowering individuals to create the life they truly want to live.

As a gift to listeners of the show, Emma is giving you one month free access! to her online Stay Stoked Community, which is full of resources to help you create whatever you choose in your life! Please use this special link to sign up!! Once you are signed up, click right here on this sentence for access to the community!

Emma is active on both Instagram and Facebook. She would love to connect with you. 

Here is the Want List Emma referenced, as well as access to her Be Deliberate site. Enjoy the “Curiosity Driven Life” speech Elizabeth Gilbert gave on Oprah’s Super Soul Sunday.

allarminda.com | 2024