Tag Archives: financial healing

Breathing in the Corridor

Whoa — this is really the corridor, here.  That meeting I was to have about Happy Notes with a major industry figure had to be postponed.  I was really sick with bronchitis — got it the day after I wrote the last blog here, too — and I think money pressures were a factor in my immune system leaving its guard post.  So, it’s slated for “the week of May 19.”

How to breathe between now and then?  The intermediary who set up the meeting says, “Get ready.”  He explains that he’s not talking about material demonstrations — doing a printing of my newest designs, for instance.  He means, just be ready to be you.  Be ready to express your vision of your company and know what you have.  Be ready to be sure that what G-d has given you is good, is enough, is worthwhile.  It’s better than worthwhile.  It’s a good addition to this world — positive sayings in different languages, basically saying “I love you” to every culture that’s represented.

I’m in Swampscott, Massachusetts, right now (I live in the Bronx).  A couple of days ago, in a Staples parking lot, a guy pulls up next to me.  I don’t remember how we got talking, but he had an Arabic accent and a clear air of worldliness — we might call it “a continental air.”  (It turned out he’s been in the U.S. for fifteen years and owns several businesses.)  I knew he was Arab, but didn’t want him to know I could discern his faint accent so easily.  I say something about non-Americans being so elegant.  He replies with some incredibly lyrical Arabic saying in English translation.  I tell him about my business and how I need that saying and others in Arabic.  He readily agrees to send me a PDF of the saying, and seems thrilled to see his culture and language appreciated.   It’s Boston Marathon time, and the memories of the Tarnaev brothers’ demonic expression of misdirected Islamic pride are everywhere.

I tell him I’m his cousin, in Arabic.  I learned how to say that because all the bodegas in my Northwest Bronx neighborhood are owned by Yemenite Arabs, and I want them to know that I know we’re family.  (Jews and Arabs are all grandchildren of Abraham:  Jews, children of Isaac and Arabs, children of Ismail/Ishmael.)  I kind of push love on them and they send it right back.  One of them, Abdul, sends me Youtube videos of Yemenite Jewish singers, and his daughter found a kid’s song called, “Ya, Suzan.”  See?  My name in Arabic!

The power of mutual appreciation is transformative.  Is it enough?  No.  Is it a lot?  Yes.

This parking-lot guy, Balsam, says he’s from Jerusalem.  He’s born and raised in Jordan, but is Palestinian.  Who knows better than a Jew what it’s like to call a place you’ve never visited “home”?

Our chat is rushed because I need to be someplace, but while we’re chatting, his friend, Gassam, calls.  Balsam crows, “This is my friend, Gassam.  He’s Palestinian, too, and he speaks Hebrew!”  Gassam and I swap Hebrew, and I’m blindsided by a colloquial Israeli greeting I’m not used to hearing (“Mah ha-matzav?”  “What’s the situation?”  Like, “Wha’ssup?”).  Sublime — smiles all around.

I just realized that this kiss from the Universe can help me breathe until “the week of May 19.”  That meeting will either start my business or not.  But, it’s my job to trust that if good is to come from Happy Notes, it will flow inevitably, over rocks and sand, grass growing in sidewalk cracks.  It will be born if it’s meant to be here.

The corridor is its gestation place — its womb.  It’s the place that teaches me to keep breathing, in the dark, in the quiet.

My corridor is lined with windows which open.  The breeze is warm and smells of plumeria, a really fragrant flower I fell in love with in Hawaii.  There will be other corridors after this one, dark places where negatives develop into glorious sights.  If I can remember to breathe, maybe they won’t be such bad places, after all.

The Dirtiest Word

Money:  soooo dirty.  Shameful.  Don’t talk about it.  G-d forbid, don’t imply you want any.

People might think you want it from them.

Now, I make a product that helps people.  It adds peace to the world — a multi-cultural, multi-lingual, feel-good product:  positive sayings in different languages, right?  I mean, it’s not crack, or something:  it’s good.  It’s loving.

Here’s a reaction to Blog No. 1 of Diary of Time in the Corridor from an email sent me by a 12-step fellowship person whom I know from, well, 12-step fellowships:

I enjoyed your blog.  It seems like it’s about selling your product as well as sharing your process.  I guess that’s what blogs are meant for.
Is it me, or did you also detect just a tad bit of accusation of the acrid scent of mercantile energy?  “You want me to buy something, don’t you?”

Was I affected by the above reaction?  Oh, yeah.  It was my worst fear:   If I talk about my business, people will think I am trying to sell them something (either the products themselves or the possibility of investing in it).

Work, commerce, these are potentially noble things.  The Talmud says, “Without bread, there is no Torah (sacred learning).”  (The Talmud continues on to say the converse, too:  “Without Torah, there is no bread.”)  It’s the implication that this blog is an indirect sales pitch that was concerning.  Can we talk about selling things without selling them?  (Can we talk about surgery without performing it?)

I did include a photo in the last blog:

— serendipitously, one that spreads the message:  “Don’t give up five minutes before the miracle.”  I was illustrating an anecdote about its order.  By the way — order delivered and customer very happy!I cannot deny that I love the idea of people learning about what I do.  But, I’m aiming for wholesale, not individual retail customers, and am building the infrastructure to do that.    (Full disclosure:  I have an etsy site but it’s mainly for display.  It’s http://www.happy-notes.com.)

Do I need an investor to do wholesale?  Yes.  Would I cringe if a blog-reader sought to investigate cashing in on my little seedling of a company?  No.

However, I have a meeting coming up on March 4 that may result in Happy Notes having a real sponsor — possibly being an imprint of a large company.

Or not.

Who knows?

The whole point of this blog is to serve as a witness to a time of transition in my life, from:

a) scraping for money and having some good ideas, to:

b) having the bleepin’ courage to create something that works and lasts and provides prosperity for me and others.

Can’t say I haven’t been somewhat gleefully encouraged by this little factoid:

food stamps to billionaire

I want you along for the ride as I make dumb mistakes and smart choices and watch my life change, somehow.

It’s my assurance that things are about to change for the better that may have sounded like a sales ploy to that 12-step person.

I get it, I do.  Or it may have sounded like whistling in the dark.

Here’s the spiritual rub:  While I believe it is very likely that Happy Notes will make it, I know that I don’t know everything, that I am not the Master of the Universe.  I know that a loving G-d has taken me places I never would have chosen, and for the best.

So, I don’t actually know what’s good for me or the planet.  I just have a feeling about Happy Notes.  And I’m inviting you along for the ride.  We’ve already seen one of my worst fears realized — being misunderstood — and here we are, continuing on!!

Have a great week.  The blogger friend whose blog inspired this one writes a post a week.  I’d like to aim for that.  Catch you soon.  Blessings to all — may you have a wonderful week in which you discover something about you or the world that lights you up.  Do it.

To soulful prosperity for all,
Susanne
SusanneKatchkoHeadshot