Soulful Marketing Blog

It’s midnight, January 1999, and I’m tucked under the covers in my hotel bed, my computer on my lap. The room is dark and quiet, except for the sound of the ocean crashing along the beach. Through the window, I can see a few stars in the night sky. I’m away at a meeting for my new publishing job, and I should probably be asleep. Instead, I’m writing another long email to my executive coach, trying to figure out what the heck I’m going to do with my life. I have a decision to make, one I’ve been putting off for months. Deep down, I know my marriage is over,…

Sometimes I… Persevere too much. I overthink and over-prepare. I just drive myself to do too much. It’s not on purpose. It’s not like I even think or am aware of it. It’s just there, like an old used overcoat that I keep putting on and forget I’m wearing. I wish it were more like a magic overcoat, one that could see into the future and ditch this behavior… Nope. It’s just this worn-out old thing that keeps me planning, making lists, refining, preparing, making decisions, remaking decisions, and then as whatever I’m preparing for gets closer, I can get kind of frenetic. Travel seems to bring this out in…

I’m 35, living in New Jersey, working as Director of International Marketing for a publishing company. I love my job, travel the world, and have worked hard to get where I am. Then I come home from a trip to Australia and find out the company is being sold. The job I’ve worked so hard to create will likely disappear in the merger. I’m pretty upset, and I have no idea what I’m going to do. My friend Rob, who’s the company’s CIO, comes into my office, sees the state I’m in, and asks: “Do you have someone who can help guide you through this transition?” I say, “Nope.” So…

“All of humanity’s problems stem from man’s inability to sit quietly in a room alone.” ~Blaise Pascale, French Mathematician, physicist, Inventor, and Philosopher After my mom died, I realized I was almost afraid of silence. It reminded me of the silence after Emma died, which I wrote about last year. When everything got quiet, I knew that’s when the grief would come. I had no other distractions. I’d sit, read my daily meditations from Melody Beattie, write in my journal, and in that quiet, all my feelings bubbled to the surface. So I did everything I could to fill the silence. I’d play instrumental music while I did my morning…