If you have ever been to the SheHive, you have likely heard a story or two about our landlord whom we affectionately refer to as “Naked Landlord.” (And you most definitely only get to hear the story of why we call him that at the SheHive.)
When we were signing the lease for the SheHive space, Naked Landlord said to us, no less than a dozen times, “I don’t care,” and he meant it. We were getting a deal on the rent - but he didn’t care. He should be asking for a two year lease instead of just one - but he didn’t care. If something small happened, don’t call him - because he didn’t care.
I asked him if he wanted coaching on how to find his passion because he obviously wasn’t living it, but - you guessed it - he didn’t care.
Naked Landlord’s laissez faire attitude towards all things landlord-y is usually just fine with me except, you know, when I need an actual landlord to let us into the back suite because the handyman cut our WiFi cable or when the rain water is draining off the roof through the bathroom wall or when the weeds out front are almost as tall as me.
Asking the Naked Landlord to actually be a landlord is the bane of my SheHive existence. I hate having to call him for anything because I know he just doesn’t care. I feel frustrated, helpless and unheard.
And also because I’m a raging phone-a-phobic. Hence why the SheHive will never have a phone until we have a receptionist. But I digress…
Last week the weeds were really, really getting to me. The outside of the SheHive has never properly represented the magic that happens inside, but the addition of four foot weeds made the building look like something straight out of a B-horror movie. In fact, two women who came to the SheHive for the first time last Saturday admitted that they only came inside because they figured there was safety in numbers. I was embarrassed and I was angry.
I stayed angry for days until I decided that I couldn’t let the anger take up any more space. I decided to change my perspective and I went outside and pinned paper flowers to sixteen of the tallest of weeds. Within minutes, instead of being embarrassed and angry, I was anxious for people to see the outside of the SheHive and to share in the joke and to laugh. And laugh we did.
Now, of course, I know pinning paper flower heads to seeding four-foot thistles don’t make them actual flowers. But it does make them something so much more special - it makes them a choice. A choice to not sweat the small stuff. A choice to turn lemons into lemonade. A choice to change perspectives. A choice to let go of that which does not serve us and a choice to be happy.
Where are the weeds in your life that could be flowers if you made a choice to change your perspective? Tell me all about it: shoot me an email or drop a comment below!
With much love and gratitude,
P.S. We’re starting to explore the idea of moving the SheHive. If you know of or have a well-maintained, reasonably-priced space for lease in Wayne or Oakland county that you think would be suitable for the SheHive, drop us a line at email@example.com.
P.P.S. Thanks to SheHiver and Master Gardener, Kristin K., for spending her down time cleaning up the SheHive weed garden! In addition to being an awesome gardener, Kristin is a kick-ass corporate trainer and is currently looking for a new gig. Drop us a line if you need either and we’ll put you in touch.
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