90% of us are not designed to initiate. And yet, the moment we want something to happen in our business, initiation is the most instinctive thing we do. We think our way to an offer. We push content in hope for visibility. We push, plan and create from our heads because waiting feels passive and passive feels like failing.🫣 But here's what actually happens when we initiate from the wrong energy: We build offers nobody asked for. We attract members who don't stay. We create content into the void and wonder what we're doing wrong. And we end up exhausted, frustrated, bitter, and quietly convinced this just isn't working.😞 It's not the strategy that's broken. It's the foundation.💥 As you know @Mikael Van gogh and I decided to build a new online business completely aligned with our Human Design. And I want to be honest with you, that didn't mean we did it perfectly.😅 Living your design is not a formula. It's an experiment. A daily practice of noticing where you're still operating from conditioning instead your truth. We opened a community. We created an offer. Nobody really bought into it. The community felt like an empty room.🤷‍♀️ And instead of pushing harder, we paused. We reflected, like we do every day, on how well we were actually living our design. ❤️ And I started to notice something. I was in spaces where Human Design was the centre of conversation, and there was a gap nobody was filling, a real place where people could share the messy, unpolished, actual process of deconditioning. Not the theory. The lived experiment.✨️ The urge to create that space didn't come from strategy. It came from somewhere deep inside me. A Sacral yes I couldn't ignore.🥰🤍 A week ago Today 🥳🥳 I created the Human Design Deconditioning Lab. And something shifted immediately, for both of us.🤍 No more chasing followers. No more creating content for the sake of being seen. For the first time we had a place to respond, give and nurture from. A foundation that felt like home from day one.🥰

I've noticed a few of us lately looking around at what everyone else is building, and quietly feeling behind. So let's talk about comparison for a minute, because it's a thief, and it's stealing something from you that you'd want back. Think about what you're actually looking at when you compare. You see someone whose community seems further along, more polished, more alive, and you measure yourself against it. But what are you really seeing? The finished front, or everything it took to build it? Because they didn't just arrive there. Nobody does. Look at anyone further down the road, and you're looking at someone who went through the exact building you're in right now, the messy middle, the mistakes, the quiet weeks, the nights they weren't sure it was working. You just don't get to see that part. Look a little closer at the gap you feel between you and them and ask what's actually in it. Is it talent? Luck? Some secret you missed? Or is it something quieter and more ordinary? Did they hit the same walls you're hitting, and instead of quitting, they reflected, adjusted, tried another way, and kept their eyes on their own target? Which one is it, really? Because if the difference is talent or luck, that's out of your hands. But if the difference is that they simply kept going, that's a different story entirely. And that one is available to you. Perhaps the answer to comparison isn't to look away from other people, because that never really works anyway. Maybe it's to change what you take from looking. Instead of "they have what I don't," what if it became "they kept going, and so can I"? That's the learner's mindset. Studying the process instead of envying the product, understanding that success was never an arrival. It was always a practice. Here's what I'll leave you to consider... The next time you catch yourself comparing your community to someone else's, what if you asked a different question, not "why am I so far behind them?" but "what did they refuse to give up on, and what would it look like to refuse to give up on mine?"

I’ve been thinking about starting a separate community centered around books and learning about neurodiversity. It wouldn’t be just for parents. I’m thinking it could be a place for parents, educators, tutors, caregivers, and anyone who wants to better understand neurodiversity, learning, behavior, and kids who learn differently. The idea would be to choose a book or workbook each month and: 📖 Read and learn together 💬 Talk about what we're learning 🧠 Share ideas and different perspectives ✏️ Explore ways to put what we learn into practice 🤝 Learn from each other’s experiences I’m thinking of starting it at a low $5/month founding-member price and seeing where we can take it from there. The first book I'm considering is: The Executive Functioning Skills Workbook for Kids (5 Books in 1) by Taylor Reed. Before I take the next step, I’d really love to hear what you think! Would a community like this interest you? And if so, what would you want to get out of it? I’d especially love to hear from you even if you wouldn't personally join. Your feedback can help me shape it into something that would actually be useful. 💛📚

There are things we do today that once took a whole lot more out of us. A conversation we used to rehearse 14 times. 😂 A decision that would have kept us awake. Hitting publish. Saying no. Asking for money. Changing our minds. Trying again after something didn’t work. And then somewhere along the way, it got a little easier. Not necessarily because the thing changed. Maybe we did. The funny part is, our brains aren't always very good at keeping track of that kind of progress. We notice what’s still hard. What still needs work. How far there is to go. Meanwhile, something that once required a small committee meeting in our head 😂 has quietly become...something we can do. So this morning... What feels a little easier for you today than it did six months ago? And maybe the bigger question... What does that tell you about how you’ve changed? ❤️🐼🎋

If you spend much time talking with @Sybil Hall, one thing becomes pretty obvious. She likes to try things. Communities. Books. Journals. Offers. AI. Different business models. Different ways of reaching people. She describes herself as an innovator. And during our Behind the Build conversation, she said plenty about the value of starting, experimenting, researching, watching what happens, and being willing to pivot. But then she said something that made me sit up a little straighter. She turned that advice back on herself. At some point, she realized she also needed to: Stay in her lane and make this one better. Oof. 😂 There’s a difference between changing direction because the evidence is telling you something and changing direction. After all, the next idea looks more exciting. And sometimes, if we’re honest, those two can feel remarkably similar. 😂 That became one of my favorite questions from Sybil’s build: Am I considering this next move because I’ve learned enough from what I’m building now...or because something new feels more exciting? That wasn’t the only place Sybil made me think. We talked about why she isn’t chasing 1,000 members. Why free makes sense for one of her communities and paid makes sense for another. What happens when you’re building publicly and it feels like nobody is paying attention? Why so many of her customers have come through relationships she’s built inside Skool. And why disappointing results don’t necessarily mean you made a bad decision. Sometimes they’re simply information for the next one. There’s a LOT in this Behind the Build. Which is exactly why I don’t want you leaving it with a list of 14 new things to do. 😂 Inside the full case study, we’re trying something a little different. As you move through Sybil’s build, I’ll invite you to think about your build, too: 🔨 Is there something worth testing? 💭 Something worth thinking about? 🛑 Or something interesting that you can deliberately leave alone?