You walk into a large light-filled room.
Arched cathedral ceilings and polished stone columns surround a small stage.
On it sits an empty throne.
Various figures face the platform, waiting with bowed heads.
You're in the crowd, guardian of the space,
restlessly wandering with a chainmail vest and swords hanging at your sides.
You feel heavy and alert. Tired and expectant.
It takes a moment for you to realise that it's you: you're the one they're waiting for.
You can't believe you've been so blind to your own light.
That you've been so intent on surveilling, waiting, fighting...well, yourself.
You put down the swords.
As you loosen the layer of armour from your neck and relieve your torso of its weight, your heart is lighter and your breath freer.
The cold, hard, intricately interwoven fabric of the vest and the carefully forged metal of the sword feel like symbols of an internal struggle that has gone on too long.
This struggle showed up every day in little ways.
In your marketing, it is the hours you spent in Canva. Because you couldn't possibly put out a reel without a beautiful cover.
The time you spent admiring others for their consistency, creativity, and aesthetic backdrop while berating your own lack of motivation, professionalism, and energetic capacity.
You're more capable than you think when you let go of what restricts your natural curiosity, eloquent expression, and creative flow.
You're not one thing. Although you often believe you should be to succeed.
Holding onto all the fragments that make you 'you,' and your integrative work awesome, feels like letting your brand down.
But here, in the spacious lightness of this meditation, you can take your place on *your* throne.
And as you lean back, you realise *they* can actually see you now.
No more fighting against your talents and the qualities of your true self.
No more forcing yourself to fit in through toning down your effervescent, iridescent essence.
You're reclaiming your right to create on your own terms.
To explore and experiment with the full flex of your skills.
Time to enter the playground.
The Creative Playground
Hey - it's me, Lauren:
And yet, the marketing narratives run deep, feeding into core wounds and conditioning.
Maybe, like me, you second guess your best ideas.
Bury your most radiant brilliance under a cloak of comparisonitis.
And get the Friday Blues from beating yourself up for not posting. Again.
But, what if none of this actually matters?
When I divest from the external noise, my Soul is clear: share what you know to be true, serve in a way only you can, and keep experimenting with the most delicious and engaging way to connect with others.
This was never about shifting who we are to fit someone else's definition of what marketing must be.
We were meant to source our strategy from Soul.
To mould our offerings and their marketing to suit our individual skills, talents and needs. To listen to our intuition and let our unique creativity guide the way.
Are you with me?
It's time to find your rhythm in your marketing.
To understand how you talk about what you do.
Decondition from marketing you know you'll never do.
And move your insightful shower epiphanies into a posting strategy!
Don't worry: we're in this together!
