Clarity On Fire

Calling all fellow bookworms, library nerds, and general lovers of literature — it’s time for another book club episode of the podcast! Whenever there are five Fridays in a month, we devote the extra Friday to a book that we can’t get enough of. This time we decided to have a conversation about one of our absolute favorite self-help books of all time, Outrageous Openness by Tosha Silver. We talked about: How this book answers the BIG questions, like: “How do I stop worrying?” and “How can I know that things will work out?” How you can start believing that the Universe (or whatever you choose to call it) actually has your back. Why nothing is too small for “divine assistance,” and how to ask for help and signs along your path. Why delays and things not going according to plan are actually a good thing. Why the odds—even when they feel super low and not in your favor—don’t matter at all when you practice outrageous openness. Our personal stories of letting the Universe lead the way, and the crazy/funny synchro

Sailors used to live in fear of the doldrums—when the sea turns placid and the wind disappears, and your ship is left to float and drift as your fresh water and food stores dwindle ever lower. You’d think a terrible storm would be worse, and maybe it is (I’m no sailor, so I can’t speak with authority). But at least in a storm you have no choice but to act; you respond to what’s in front of you and hope you make it through, but there’s not much time for reflection or despair. I have precisely zero experience with either of those situations in a maritime setting, but a lot of experience in the proverbial sense. And I can confirm that, at least when it comes to personal development, it’s way easier to coach someone when they’re miserable and at rock bottom (in the “eye of the storm,” so to speak) than when they’re in the doldrums. Misery is motivating. Being down and out gives you a “what do I have to lose?” attitude. It lights a fire under your butt to make changes, take risks, and let go of crap that’s been ho

I’m unafraid to admit that I am a full-blown escapist. I can’t help it. I was born this way. The places I’ve been in my imagination feel just as real to me as places I’ve actually been—I defy you to tell me that I haven’t ever sat in front of the fire in the Gryffindor common room doing homework with my quill and parchment! The truth is, the world in my head is often way more interesting than what’s going on in the real world. And more often than not, I’d rather be in my own fantasy world than dealing with whatever annoyances are popping up in my real life. But is that healthy? Doesn’t that make me (and the rest of us who are prone to escapism) immature, lazy, or irresponsible? In this Side Chat, Kristen and I are going down the rabbit hole and talking about: Who is most prone to escapism, and why. Why we can’t help but do it, even when we feel we shouldn’t. When escapism is normal and healthy, and when it crosses the line and becomes warped. Why most of us escapists aren’t great at, and definitely don’t enj

A client of mine, Erin, feels like she has the same frustrating conversation with her husband on at least a weekly basis. She’s an external processor, so after a stressful day at work, she finds it helpful to come home and talk about all the challenges she’s dealing with. For her, it’s just a way of decompressing and venting out her feelings of the day. Her husband, on the other hand, is a problem-solver. He’s logical by nature, plus his job requires him to be in solution-mode all day long. So the moment she starts talking about her problems at work, he starts offering solutions. The problem is that, when Erin’s in venting-mode, she’s not ready to talk about solutions. She just needs to release some stress without the pressure to DO anything about it just yet. So she gets frustrated by him constantly trying to “fix” the problem, and he gets frustrated that she’s not open to his solutions. Erin has tried to ask him to just listen when she’s venting, and he gives it his best effort. But because he cares about h

In December of 2017 Francisca Hernandez nearly died. She’d spent months feeling unwell, bouncing from doctor to doctor, trying and failing to get to the bottom of her health struggles. It came to a head 11 months ago when she (pretty miraculously) walked into the hospital under her own power, and ended up needing six pints of blood transfused into her body. What followed was a very serious surgery two months later. And, as people often do when they end up on death’s doorstep, she found herself taking a complete inventory of her life. The gratitude of being alive brought sharp clarity and made her admit to the fact that, leading up to her health crisis, she’d spent many years in a numbed-out haze, trying to avoid the despair and pointlessness she felt on a daily basis. Almost a year later, Francisca says she’s the happiest she’s ever been, and only getting happier. In this month’s interview with a normal person, Rachel talks to Francisca about: Why she ignored her intuition for so long, and why she actively t

It doesn’t matter where you’re from or what generation you belong to, I know you know someone who’s actually entitled. I’m not talking about people who are called “entitled” but don’t necessarily deserve it. (A lot of Millennials bear the brunt of this, and it’s an unfair generalization to make about an entire generation of people, considering how hardworking and engaged most of the Millennials I know are.) I’m talking about the person you know who thinks they legitimately should not have to work for anything, and who is sort of dumbfounded by the very idea of struggle. I’m talking about the person who is so deeply deluded that they constantly talk about how spectacular they are, even though they’ve done little that’s brag-worthy. We know this person. We roll our eyes at this person. The vast majority of us are definitely not this person. But here’s the kicker — most of us are still entitled, anyway. How does that work? How can so few of us resemble “that person,” and yet so many of us still be entitled? Well

Welcome to another episode of Dear Krachel, a monthly advice segment where we answer audience questions about life, career, relationships, existential angst, and anything that helps you become a more whole, fulfilled version of yourself. On this episode, we’re answering questions from: Catherine, who’s having some difficulty with a “jackhammer”-type boss. How do you work with someone who inadvertently makes you feel judged or less-than? Isabelle, who doesn’t want a spouse, kids, or a corporate career … which everyone insists she’ll regret not having. Are they right? Is there something she just isn’t seeing? Jasmine, whose boyfriend of 4 years says he wants to get married, but clams up whenever she tries to talk about the timeline. What should she do if she wants to trust his words, but his actions just aren’t lining up? After you’ve listened, leave us a comment to let us know if our advice for these three ladies resonated with you, too. Want to submit a question for our December episode of Dear Krachel? Fil

I think it’s safe to say that I don’t know a single person who hasn’t been through a period of burnout. Some temporary burnout is normal, especially after you’ve expended a big surge of energy. I remember feeling exhausted and lethargic for a couple of days after finals in college or after completing a big project at work. Temporary burnout is bound to happen from time to time, and as long as you give yourself some recovery time after a particularly busy or stressful period, you’ll recalibrate pretty quickly. Long-term burnout, however, is becoming more and more common, and it’s extremely hard on the body and mind. It comes from having too many expectations and putting forth a huge effort over a long span of time.  I had never experienced long-term burnout until I started a business, which is a huge effort and takes years of intense commitment. I love what I do and I’m grateful for this business every day, but that doesn’t negate the fact that building a business from the ground up is a massive undertaking an

Raise your hand if you’ve ever been a couch potato who decided the best way to motivate yourself was to go all out: signing up for a marathon, weightlifting every day, or going to yoga 6 times a week. Or maybe you decided it was time to clean up your diet, so you cut all sugar AND dairy AND wheat AND meat. Or perhaps you wanted to get clear on your career direction, so you bought ten self-help books and signed up for four courses in the space of a month. The obsession with “all or nothing” is REAL. And a lot of us are caught in a never-ending cycle of swinging from one end of the pendulum to the next, without feeling like we’re making any real progress (and driving ourselves crazy, to boot). In this month’s interview with an expert, we had a conversation with our friend and fellow coach Amy Everhart, who has lifelong experience with this pattern and is still a work in progress herself. We talked about: Where the “all or nothing” mentality comes from (we have multiple theories!). When it’s actually OK — and w

One of my clients has a passion and expertise for parrots (yet another reason I love coaching—you meet people with incredibly diverse interests). The other day we were talking about her desire to educate people with pet parrots about how to properly care for them, when she started dropping some facts that made me go, “Wait, hold up. Say that again.” Here’s what she told me: “Parrots are highly sociable animals programmed to live in a group. They’re also meant to fly dozens of miles a day (some species, like Macaws, fly up to 100 miles a day). They spend an enormous amount of physical energy doing this, as well as emotional energy in search of food, foraging, finding appropriate nest sites, and building and carving out those nests, as well as the energy it takes to raise young. They have voices meant to be heard up to 3 miles away so they can keep in constant contact with their flock. Then humans put them in a cage, left alone and fed an inappropriate diet. They’re devoid of those things they are meant to do a

Have you ever heard something that felt so true that it resonated in your very bones? Even if you couldn’t explain why you knew it was true? You just knew. That’s how I felt when I read this passage from the end of Elizabeth Gilbert’s mega-bestselling book Eat, Pray, Love: “The Zen Buddhists say that an oak tree is brought into creation by two forces at the same time. Obviously, there is the acorn from which it all begins, the seed which holds all the promise and potential, which grows into the tree. Everybody can see that. But only a few can recognize that there is another force operating here as well—the future tree itself, which wants so badly to exist that it pulls the acorn into being, drawing the seedling forth with longing out of the void, guiding the evolution from nothingness to maturity. In this respect, say the Zens, it is the oak tree that creates the very acorn from which it was born.” I mean, damn, right? In this brand new clarity-on-fire-side-chat (…get it?) Kristen and I are putting on our phi

As many of you know, Rachel and I went on a 10-day Euro-trip this past August, and it was absolutely amazing. We explored ancient castles, ate incredible food, and went on so many walking tours that I’m now in need of new sneakers (including a Harry-Potter-themed tour of Edinburgh because, obviously). Traveling back home, though, was … less than amazing. After waking up before 6am and sitting through an 8-hour flight, we got in the longest customs line I’ve ever seen. For nearly 3 hours, I lugged my heavy bags through endless weaving lines of people, feeling like I might get stuck in that warehouse-sized, fluorescent-lit beige room for the rest of my days. Not anticipating this long of a wait, I hadn’t eaten much on the plane or stopped for a bathroom break (despite the several cups of orange juice I’d accepted from the flight attendant), so I was ill prepared for the marathon I’d unwillingly joined. Plus, because of the time difference, my body thought it was 10pm, even though it was only 5pm back in the Sta

Terece Hahn had it all — the job she’d always dreamed of, a 6-figure income, a loving husband, the ability to travel and buy a home and do all the things she loved. And yet, she was miserable. Her job was making her burnt out, anxious, depressed, and totally unsure of herself. Her confidence took a nosedive, and she started questioning everything in her life. So what do you do when your dream job turns into a nightmare? Terece used that experience as a catalyst to go on a deep inner journey of figuring out who she is, what really matters to her, and what she wants most out of life. And now, two years later, she feels like a completely different — and much happier — person. She’s sharing her journey with us in this week’s interview with a normal person. Listen in to hear us talk about: Her story about feeling lost and directionless after leaving school and getting a “real job.” How she built back up her confidence after it hit an all-time low. The huge perspective shift that helped her quiet her inner critic

There was a time when Kristen and I thought we wanted to be corporate coaches.

In a way, this made perfect sense. Both of us had intimate experience with the mind-numbing bureaucracy of corporate America. We knew what the cube-people were secretly feeling — trapped, suffocated, bored, purposeless — because we had so recently been cube-people.

 We had a vision of being “corporate ninjas” … we’d go in to stuffy offices and quietly, stealthily, and methodically shift entire cultures. We’d inspire people; we’d make it so that work was actually invigorating, purposeful, and fun. Leadership would be left a bit dazed and blinking by the overnight change, but they’d get used to a new and improved way of operating.

 This is a story about how none of that happened, and how I got publicly insulted to boot. In this week’s blog, I’m sharing something I originally wrote 3 years ago, and exploring why getting painfully rejected can be the best thing that ever happened to you. ARE YOU A TRAPPED CUBE-PERSON? If you were no

Welcome to another episode of Dear Krachel, a monthly advice segment where we answer audience questions about life, career, relationships, existential angst, and anything that helps you become a more whole, fulfilled version of yourself. On this episode, we’re answering questions from: Cath, who wants some advice about how to let things unfold naturally when dating someone new, instead of forcing and pushing. How do you not give in to the need for instant answers? Jess, a Side Hustler in her twenties who lives with her parents and works as a freelancer. Should she get a part-time job to satisfy her parents, even though that would take time away from pursuing her passions? Heather, who’s about to turn 30 and is struggling with the fact that all of her friends are married with kids. What do you do when you can’t help but ask, “Why not me?” We got into a LOT of good stuff in this one, including our personal feelings about being unmarried at 30, too. After you’ve listened, leave us a comment to let us know if o

For most of my life, I suffered from pretty extreme FOMO (fear of missing out). My parents will tell you that up until the time I was 7 or 8, I would never admit to being tired — and not just out of normal childlike stubbornness, but because I was terrified that if I took a nap or went to bed early, I’d miss out on something fun. The FOMO didn’t go away as I got older; it just evolved to focus more on my friendships and school. I hated taking a sick day from school because I was afraid I’d miss out on some inside joke with my friends or miss a crucial lesson in one of my classes and fall behind. I said “yes” to pretty much every social invitation I got while I was in school and through most of college, even though I’m more of an introvert and it often totally exhausted me. Once I got out of school and into the “real world,” my FOMO evolved again, this time into anxiety around whether I was in the right career. Since I had no direction for a while and a serious “grass-is-greener” complex, I was always explorin

A few years ago Emily Liou started to question her career in recruiting. Sure, she helped people get hired, but for every person she helped, there were so many more she had to reject. And the rejections were wearing on her. That’s when Emily decided to quit her job, become a certified coach (she went to the same program as us!), and ended up starting her own business; one where she could leverage her experience as a recruiter and her knowledge as a coach to help people navigate both the deep, internal world of personal growth and the external challenges of finding a job. We came to this conversation with SO many questions and common issues (ones we hear from our clients and podcast listeners all the time!) to bounce off of Emily, and she was a complete treasure trove of insight. We talked about: What to do if you aren’t sure you have enough experience to apply for a job How to make a radical career shift, especially when you only have experience in one thing Why “hard skills” aren’t necessarily more importan

I recently passed an anniversary of sorts. It’s been six years since I quit my first job (not to be confused with the second or third jobs I also quit, which happened shortly thereafter). It’s also been six years since Kristen and I decided to start a business and six years since I enrolled in a certified coach training program. I know anniversaries are supposed to be celebrated, or at least fondly acknowledged, but all I’m thinking about right now is the two weeks I spent in between quitting my first job and starting the next gig (as a part-time nanny to two-year-old twins). Up until the day I walked out (of that unfulfilling, mind-numbing corporate existence), I was so excited for everything I was going to do before my new job started. I was going to go to yoga, bike around town, cook really healthy meals, meditate every night, and basically live the life I’d always imagined. And then I spent two weeks on the couch. In this week’s blog I’m revisiting something I originally published 3 years ago – the story

Hello from the other side … of 30. It’s been a month since I left my 20s, and I’m (Rachel) honestly still processing this milestone. I didn’t expect it to bring up so much grief – anger, frustration, sadness, and waves of anxiety and depression. And while I’ve been riding those waves, it’s become obvious that a lot of people around me are also battling that same current, just for different reasons. So, this mutual experience got me thinking about big life transitions. What do they have in common? How do we ride them out? Why are they so emotional? In this month’s Side Chat we’re talking about: What counts as a transition (that might not have occurred to you) Why all transitions always come with grief, even when they’re happy The true purpose of grief, and how to let yourself feel the deep emotions of a transition phase, without bottling them up Why you don’t need to try to understand your feelings about the transition you’re in The difference between grief and depression How can you use the often chaotic emo

My client Dawn was in a major internal tug-of-war. Her boss had just announced he was leaving, which meant his job was opening up. As soon as the job was posted, several of Dawn’s coworkers forwarded her the job listing with notes like, “You would be perfect for this,” and “This has your name all over it.” Dawn was flattered, but torn. She’d never considered applying for her boss’ job, and she wasn’t totally sure she wanted it. It would mean a lot more responsibility, as well as becoming a manager, all of which made her extremely uncomfortable. On the other hand, everyone kept telling her it would be such a great growth opportunity, and it would be a step up the ladder in her career, not to mention a bigger paycheck. It seemed like the logical next step. She asked me, “How do I know if this is worth stepping out of my comfort zone?” As someone who loves being in my comfort zone (whatever the opposite of an adrenaline junkie is … that’s me), but also knows that I can’t stay there forever if I want to keep lear