Hi Reader,

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Fall is my most creative time of the year. Like clockwork, my mind starts conjuring up ideas, projects, and energy. I wake up to dreamy visions, like my body and consciousness are being taken over by something bigger, wiser, and beyond myself. I go down rabbit holes of research, fill notebooks with ideas, and create lists of everything I’ll need to do to manifest my vision.

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And that's how it began in Fall 2018. I was journaling about what I wanted to do next with my life. As I answered questions about how I liked to spend time, what was missing in my life, and what I was doing too much of that I didn’t like, the vision of leaving Seattle and traveling the country in a camper van came to me.
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While these visions do just “pop” in, they don’t pop out. They stay and grow like fast-rising yeast dough. They fill my thoughts and overflow into my subconscious. They interfere with anything else that needs to get done. Soon, I was Googling camper vans, plotting a route around the United States, and making a list of what I’d need to take with me so I could teach as I toured the country. (You can read the whole story here.)

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What I didn’t envision was the heartache of leaving the home and urban farm I had curated over the past 6 years, the emotional and physical exhaustion of selling or giving away all my worldly possessions, and the stress of building out my van before I had no home. (P.S. I didn’t make the deadline so camped in the driveway of my dear friend, Amity Kramer, while I completed the work. I'm still so grateful to you, Amity!)
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Now, here’s the important thing about this story: Even though I did exactly what I wanted to do, I regret it.
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I don’t regret the experiences I had. Nothing can replace the satisfaction of building your own home on wheels. Nothing felt better than being able to go wherever I wanted—with my home “on my back”—on a whim. No memories can beat the eerie landscape of Moab, the stars over the Badlands, visiting my ancestor’s graves in Montana, or the sight of crazy legs supporting houses on the Gulf coast.

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But I regret that I gave up so much. A home (especially during the pandemic), the ability to grow my own food and medicine, my business, my role in the birth community, and close-by access to my family. As the well-used quote says:
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I hadn’t considered the impact of leaving so much all at once; it took my breath away and left me overcome with grief. But I didn’t turn back. I forged ahead with tear-filled eyes that were slowly dried by the expansive beauty I drove through everyday.

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I travelled over 60,000 miles in that van. I lived in it for 4 years. I wrote a book in it.
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Then, last year, I sold it. I’m back in a beautiful home. I still miss my garden (but not the relentless work of having one). And I can see all of my family in an hour or two.

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Because of that whole experience, I pay attention differently to the new things that call to me each Fall. Where is this idea coming from? I ask myself. What will I have to give up if I follow this vision?​
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This year, I am being called to do less. And to let go of things instead of trying to force or fix them.
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Where is this idea coming from? From wisdom, age, aging, and the fatigue of the past year where I accomplished so much (launching my online doula training, relaunching my business coaching program for doulas, 3 new subdomains on my website, bringing back my sacred feminine retreat, opening a new Shopify store for my 40+ courses, PUBLISHING A BOOK, creating a writers’ coaching program) but don’t feel like the return was worth the investment. This year I have promised myself to not build anything new and instead focus on more visibility for the things I’ve already created.

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What will I have to give up if I follow this vision? The mirage that I’m in control of anything. My fear of not growing my business if I’m not creating new things. Distorted notions of productivity. It feels good to give up fears and erroneous ideas as they keep me small, even though they are familiar and create a false sense of protection.

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So, please, if I start to talk about creating something I’m not already offering, STOP ME! Help hold me accountable to a more relaxed and abundant life. TIA 🙏

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Your turn: What are you being called to do this year? Where is this idea coming from? What will you have to give up if you follow this vision? Please reply and tell me all about it!

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What I'm listening to, reading, and watching:

​My Old Ass — A light romp through a young person’s last summer before college when she starts communicating with her 30-some-year-old self (her “old ass”). Themes of generational expectations, gender identity, sexual orientation, love and loss, and psychedelics weave through this time of transitions. On Prime Video.

​The Sentence — Louise Erdrich. I may have found my new author crush; I want to read all her books! This one is about a prison sentence, a bookstore, a ghost, a devoted husband, an ungrateful step-daughter, the pandemic and George Floyd protests, and enough literary references to fill your library holds list for the next 5 years.

What are you listening to, reading, or watching that you think I’d like? Reply and let me know.

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Let me know if there's anything special you'd like to hear about in the coming weeks. Just reply and I'm on it!

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I hope your dreams for your future are filled with meaning and prosperity for you. And no regrets. 🤩

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Thanks for reading,
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Carrie

So You Want to Be a Doula

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P.S. If you’re looking for space and introspection to fuel what’s calling to you, join me April 4-7 for Awakening the Divine Feminine: Transform Your Life & Work, an in-person retreat to reconnect you with the Sacred Feminine energies of love, compassion, peace, and collaboration. Registration is now open!