business mentors – Bridging the Paradigms: re-connecting people and the planet

The Gift of Grace: An Unexpected Lesson

July 8, 2013 by Robyn 2 Comments

Lettuce In January my cousins gave me a birthday gift: a $50 gift certificate for the Seattle Farmers Market. It was a carefully selected gift. They knew that I’ve shopped at the West Seattle Farmers Market for years, take friends there, and encourage others to go.

For me it’s also a bit retro: I grew up in a small town, and buying produce and meats from your neighbors was simply what you did. Good business for them. Good food for you.

So I was taken aback yesterday when I cashed in my gift certificate at the market booth and then tried to spend my $5 tokens around the market.

Turns out, the farmers don’t really understand the tokens. Plus (or perhaps I should honestly say, worse) the tokens are also given in exchange for food stamps, and that is apparently all they are really known for by the farmers. I have to admit, when the booth attendant told me that, I hesitated.

We are all proud: this is a fact of life. We aren’t proud about being proud, but we are, anyway. I am not the only one who looks the other way when the person in front of me at the grocery store hands over food coupons instead of money. First of all, it’s none of my business. Second, it’s sad that someone needs to rely on food stamps: I’m glad food stamps are there and I hope to never be in the position to need them. Third, I always just figured people were embarrassed by needing the coupons, and, of course, it might be contagious.

Sound human? (You know it is.)

So when I was handed the tokens and told that, I thought, ‘Wow, this might be a lesson I’m not in the mood for today.’ Sadly, it was.

One farmer tried to refuse the tokens, and then argued with me about giving me change for one. Granted, the market’s organizers have done a poor job of informing the farmers that the tokens are real money: at the end of the day, they turn in each $5 token for $5 cash. But this particular farmer took one look at the token and glanced at me with a look that combined both contempt for me and superiority for her. I started to explain it was a gift, not a food stamp, and then I thought, really, this is my lesson, too, and shut up.

Well, almost. I looked this farmer in the eye and said, “Give me back the token and I’ll give you real money.” Startled, she hesitated, kept it, and gave me change. While blushing.

I owed the second farmer $17, and gave him three tokens and change (I catch on eventually). He did a double-take when he saw the tokens, wouldn’t meet my eyes after that, and hustled me off.

The third farmer was someone I personally like, even though we don’t know each other’s name. She remembers what I like and even brings a few items just for me (okay, probably a few other people, too) when she doesn’t have enough of it ready to sell in quantity. While she took the tokens in stride, I felt compelled to mention that they were a gift, so boo on me.

That was my lesson yesterday. I had to laugh about it later. I’d just spent a fortune on veterinary care for my aging, ill dog, and like most of us these days, I was feeling the pinch. But what pinched me here was attitude, and not just the farmers’.

We don’t survive as a species, let alone a culture, unless we reach out to take care of each other. Food stamps are one way we do that in our system while keeping our hands clean and our hearts inactivated: we can do good without going to any real effort, including feeling it.

Yesterday I had to feel it. Joy because I feel rich every Sunday when my fridge is stocked with life-giving food. Surprise (and embarrassment) at how I felt when I realized someone might think I was using food stamps (which, I discovered, makes you feel inadequate on many levels that count far more than the financial). Shame for even thinking that. Humor at being human. Satisfaction in rising above my own, well, pettiness.

And, really, gratitude for a perfect gift from people who truly love me: the food, yes, but the unexpected gift of compassion for all of us who are just trying to get by, and somehow manage to do it together. Even when it hurts.

Yes, I’ll call it like it was: an unexpected gift of grace, obviously needed, and, ultimately, well received.

So how would you feel in that situation? And why?

Saying Goodbye to a Neighborhood Institution

June 26, 2013 by Robyn Leave a Comment

Dick and Andy Barnecut Barnecut’s Shell has been in West Seattle a whole lot longer than I have, but even that’s a long time. Dick Barnecut and his son, Andy, have been taking care of my cars since I moved to West Seattle in 1988. But on July 1, 2013, they will be closing their doors forever.

The economy has hit hard. Sometimes it’s all statistics, grim reports on the news, or stories from a different place. We’ve seen a lot of places close in West Seattle over the years, many as hard times hit in 2008. But sometimes it’s somebody we know.

What happens? The big box store down the street undercuts prices, and still we shop there. The owners get tired or simply get to retire and kick back. Or some combination thereof. Sometimes it’s hard times, sometimes it’s just time, but the end result is the same: we’re losing a family business.

Here’s what I know. I’m going to miss Barnecut’s. I’m going to miss getting gas and checkups where they know my name and I know theirs.

Here’s something else I know. I was fortunate enough to spot Andy at the station on my way home yesterday, and even though I only needed a quarter tank, I pulled in to fill up and get the chance to say goodbye.

As luck would have it, the best thing happened, because Dick was there, too. Now Dick’s been retired a long time, so you hardly get to see him. But I got a chance to hug them both, to thank them for taking care of me and West Seattle all these years, for being good people and neighbors.

I’m going to miss that. I was born and raised in a small town, and I ran to the big city to get away from that. But truth is, the small town girl is still in there, still wanting to do business and be friends with my neighbors. Still kind of missing that tie.

My dad was a pharmacist and gift shop owner in Stayton, Oregon, and I had the privilege of working with him in his store from the time I was 12 until I graduated from college. I learned a lot about business from my dad. How to count change. How to smile and be polite. How to work even when I was tired. How to wrap a gift.

How to be a good neighbor. My dad took care of people in ways I saw only because I was there. He never talked about it. He just did it. Helped a young man whose wife was dying. Gave money to a man in need. Took care of his family.

I was telling Dick and Andy Barnecut a bit about my dad yesterday. How proud I was of him, and them, for being good neighbors first and foremost.

“Yeah, my dad’s like that,” Andy said, smiling at Dick.

Yes, I remember the time I was on my way to the dentist and had a flat tire. Andy drove down to my condo and filled the tire so I could drive up to the station. Dick was waiting. He took the tire off, patched it, put it back on, and I jumped in the car, saying, “Thanks, Dick, I’ll be back to pay for it later.”

He just laughed as I drove off. And laughed again when I stopped by later that day to pay (interest free, unlike every bank you know).

I’ll miss the service. I’ll miss them. But I’m grateful that they were there all those years when I needed them. When West Seattle needed them.

Happy adventures, Dick and Andy!

When It All Makes Sense: Stepping Up to Do Your Work

February 3, 2013 by Robyn Leave a Comment

McMillin_081507_00004- sky What if you had an amazing ability, you stepped up and learned how to use it, and one day it all came together in a perfect moment? I saw that happen yesterday with a friend who is also one of my intuitive students.

Now, when people come to me for intuitive mentoring I tell them that all of our work, whatever it is, has value, and that their intuitive work may surprise them. I encourage them to learn how to use any ability that shows up: how else do you find what perfectly fits you and makes a difference—to you and to the world?

The truth is, developing our intuitive skills requires an open-minded, patient, tolerant worldview. Humans are actually the most limited beings out there—we have no idea what kind of jobs are out there, so we limit opportunities, or miss them altogether.

Working with the dead is one of those opportunities.

Now my friend started out learning to talk with animals, and for a long time she resisted talking with anything else. She’s one of the strongest clairaudients I know, so I challenged her to broaden her worldview and learn to talk with trees and other beings. She resisted, worried, like I used to be, that learning to talk with other beings meant she would somehow lose the ability to talk with animals.

Not true. Reassured, she opened up and had many fun, inspiring conversations with other beings. She learned the philosophy of communication we teach at Alchemy West, and she blossomed because she put ego aside and simply learned how to relate to other beings as equals. She was fascinated at how complex the universe really is.

And then the dead started showing up.

That’s when my crystal partner, Fallon, and I started to teach her how we work with the dead, from start to finish. She also started working with my dad, who runs what I call The Way Station for Dead Things on the Other Side, and several deceased animals (and yes, I’m a bit jealous that she works with my dad so often, he’s my dad). Lately I’ve had her set specific times and days of the week to help the dead move on, and it’s working quite well.

Of course you know this story is going to end up a bit of a tearjerker, because, as life goes, it all came together for my friend yesterday, when her mother died. They had a rocky relationship for a long time (my friend’s mom was, to say the least, not a nice person). When the end was clearly in sight I encouraged my friend to make peace, which she did. I woke up in the middle of the night yesterday, with my dad telling me my friend’s mother had died but she wasn’t with him.

In future articles I will explain more about how Fallon and I work with the dead. For now, know that I didn’t say anything until late in the afternoon, when my friend called to talk and it was clear to me that her mother had not yet moved on. I suggested that she help her.

“I thought she’d crossed over,” my friend said.

“No, and I think it’s a good idea that you help her,” I said. “Fallon and I will help, too, and my dad’s waiting. But you should take the lead here. I think your mom needs to know what wonderful work you do, and you need to hear her say so.”

My friend took a shaky breath and agreed. In the next few minutes she beautifully moved through the procedure I’d taught her and connected with her mother, who was, with good reason, surprised and moved to discover her daughter’s wonderful skill. Reassured, she moved on, and my dad took over. One more soul safely on the other side.

(As a side note, here, my dad reported to both of us that her mother is just as cantankerous as ever, which just goes to show that dying is not quite what religion keeps telling us it is.)

Interesting how things turn out, isn’t it? My beautiful friend was never really appreciated by her mother, who had to die to see her for the amazing woman she is—a woman who saw her intuitive strength and stepped up to do her work. In those few minutes two women long at odds with each other experienced peace and acceptance, and had a chance to really say goodbye.

It would never have happened if my friend had not stepped up to do her work. Not out of ego or pride or false modesty or the mistaken idea that it was sacred work mysteriously granted to her, but simply out of acknowledgment and proper use of an innate ability.

My friend did her job because she could and because it was there in front of her. As a result she and her mother achieved a healing of sorts in death that they never quite reached in life.

It’s awesome how stepping up to do our work sometimes works out and makes sense in a way you never expected.

So, are you stepping up to do yours?

Are You Stuck? Or Living a Bald Eagle Life?

April 16, 2012 by Robyn Leave a Comment

: (c) Gary R. Jones

If life were easy we wouldn’t get stuck. Or laugh. It’s all in our perspective.

Which reminds me of the bald eagles who share our beach with us. I love these birds, and I sometimes think it would fun to be one. And then I think: “raw fish.” Eww.

Yes, it’s definitely about perspective.

Do we learn from whatever comes at us, and enjoy life, or do we overwhelm ourselves with resentment and ‘what if’s’?

Perspective: Ever had an eagle yell at you? One morning about 6 I was out with my dogs, waiting for them to do their “stuff.” An adult bald eagle was perched in a nearby Madrona tree. It peered close at us, glared at my dogs, and then cocked its head to glare at me! And screech! Really, I clean up, but that day I did it facing that screechy bird! I giggled all day, and got some great work done. Does the mundane ever become hilarious? And an inspiration to shine at your work? If not, how can it be?

: (c) Gary R. Jones

Watch your back: Eagles don’t always get along. They’re quite clear about what works for them, and what doesn’t. They get things done.

Do you work out misunderstandings? How? Do you stand your ground when you need to, honoring your commitment to your clients? To yourself? Your family?

Keep your eyes on the prize: Eagles are always watching. Something.

If you don’t reach for the moon, the stars, and everything in between, how do you become great? Be fully present in the moment. Be aware of your surroundings. Be grateful.

Live in the moment: Last spring I saw a bald eagle soaring above I-5 in downtown Seattle, catching the air currents, skillful, unconcerned, uninterested in all the humans stuck in traffic below it. That eagle was free and wild, not impeded by lane changes.

Are you? What inspires you to fly free? What gets you unstuck? What makes you laugh?

I’m willing to learn from my nonhuman mentors. Are you?

Getting Unstuck with Bald Eagles

April 11, 2012 by Robyn Leave a Comment

What inspires you to keep going, no matter what? Is it an admirable person? A dynamic leader? A work of art?

Bald eagles inspire me. Watching them in my Seattle neighborhood reminds me to keep going, no matter what.

Yes, bald eagles.

Why do I write about nonhuman mentors? Because my business is about challenging mindset through storytelling, and creating new ways of thinking about life in the world with my crystal partner, Fallon. Because the people, and businesses, who prosper think outside the norm, to learn from the world around them.

Bald eagles are normal: we just don’t see them that much. So when we do, or hear about them, we stop and think about just what it is we’re seeing. And learning.

I’m inspired by watching eagle generations: the mature bald eagles with the classic white heads and tails and their growing offspring, the mottled maybe-two-year-olds I call the juveniles (okay, maybe the technical term is ‘immature’).

Eagles clearly have the basics in life nailed down. They’re fully present in the act of being bald eagles, even when they goof up.

We, however, live in the most technologically advanced civilization ever, but many of us are stuck. Who isn’t for getting unstuck?

Nail the landing: One morning I looked out the window and saw several dozen crows and gulls in flight, harassing an eagle, who ignored them as it majestically landed in a fir tree. For an instant it was magical, and then the eagle fell out of the tree. As it fell it immediately took flight, with the gulls and crows still after it.

Do you get cocky? Where do you need to tweak your life plans? How quickly do you recover from your goof-ups? In time to soar? Or do you crash? What’s the difference?

Respect your elders; understand the risks: Grace the Cat, our family cat, is an indoor cat except for regular forays through our deck garden. You’d think she’d be clueless about the badass world out there, but she is Grace. She sits in the window, scolds the chickadees and crows, and spies on passing cats, raccoons, possums, squirrels, and even an occasional coyote, but … a bald eagle? One day Grace was strolling towards our sliding glass doors when an adult eagle perched on the light pole across the street swiveled its head and stared right at her. For one stunning instant Grace and the eagle were eye to eye, then Grace promptly flattened herself on the floor, head tucked under her arm. Smart cat, not taking any chances! Scold a crow, yes. Hunt an eagle? Never.

How street smart are you? What do you do when someone is bigger and badder than you are? Duck and cover? Change tactics? Play nice? Hide?

: (c) Gary R. Jones

Run in a good crowd: When bald eagles hang out, it’s with other bald eagles. Every other bird is either after them (clearly not successful, since the eagles ignore them) or respectfully hanging on the sidelines.

Who are the eagles in your life? Why? What do you learn from them? What do they learn from you? Do they inspire you?

Our challenge for greatness: I’m willing to learn from my nonhuman mentors. Are you? It’s a lot less pressure, and a lot more storytelling. The thing is, we know humans, even when we think we don’t. But if you look at the nonhumans you see how others get along (or don’t), without all the game playing that humans do. The lessons we learn from them are priceless: we’re not pressured to conform, as we often are with humans. We’re simply given space to observe and appreciate other life.

To get unstuck from the daily grind. To learn from it. Which helps us soar.

Which makes us great.

Living the Bald Eagle Life: Our Challenge for Greatness

April 9, 2012 by Robyn Leave a Comment

Who are your role models? What challenges you to greatness?

Okay, easy if you’re thinking humans, but my work is about creating community with all life. I tend to draw inspiration from the world around me.

Like bald eagles. Let’s take a look.

Bald eagles regularly perch in a scraggly Madrona tree above our Alki Beach neighborhood in Seattle, benignly ignoring their oh-so-human admirers (and their many crow and gull detractors). Traffic stops, crowds gather, and those of us privileged to live here just smile. We love our eagles.

One thing that is particularly fascinating is sharing our beach with eagle generations: the mature bald eagles with the classic white heads and tails and their growing offspring, the mottled maybe-two-year-olds I call the juveniles (and perhaps the bird people call ‘immatures’).

I tend to look beyond humans for inspiration, from learning to get along to being the best person I can be, personally and professionally. For role models I look to our bald eagles: they work hard to earn a living, but they know what to concentrate on, and when. Bald eagles live their lives triumphantly, despite the occasional goof-ups.

What Challenges You to Greatness?

Who are your role models? What do you learn from them? What challenges you to greatness?

Is it the economy? We’re told it sucks and the stress is making people nuts. But what if we saw our economic quandary as an opportunity?

Think positive. Challenge our mindset. Think fresh. Think …

What in the world can we learn from a bald eagle?

Eagles get what counts: the basics. And they’re fully present in the act of being: bald eagles. Even when they goof up.

Sure, they have to get the basics: screw up in nature and you die. (True for us, too, though, isn’t it?) But somehow we just expect more from bald eagles. After all, they’re not only back from the brink of extinction but confident, strong, and sure of their place in the world.

We, however, don’t always get that bald eagles are just like us: greatness prone to goof-ups. So what does that teach us?

Learn from experience: I watched the bald eagle parents teaching their kids the aerodynamics of flying. They circled and swooped over the Alki Point Light House, the parents dipping in and around the juveniles, who’d clumsily struggle to imitate them, over and over.

Who is teaching you to fly? How hard are you working to learn? How do you measure success? Practice practice practice.

Perseverence: Out with my dogs, I watched two juveniles circling above me, barely clearing a light pole, laboring to gain altitude. They didn’t quit, even with gulls and crows diving at them. In fact, about the third circling they actually began to look graceful as they succeeded.

How do you gain altitude? What keeps you going, and learning?

I keep learning. If something isn’t working in my business, I tweak it or try something new. But I don’t forget the basics. We all have to stay afloat.

Ignore the crowd: Gulls and crows constantly harass the eagles, ganging up on them, chasing and diving at them. I’ve never seen the eagles fight back: they ignore their tormenters, even as they’re often driven off. But they always go where they want to, and they keep coming back. Recently I saw two crows harassing an eagle sitting in a fir tree across the street. Even when one crow raked its butt and knocked it off balance, the eagle simple re-balanced and adjusted its feathers, never once acknowledging the crows.

What’s chasing you? Do you know where you’re going, and why? Do you shrug off disappointments or take them out on others? What keeps you coming back? What makes you the boss, or a team player?

Excel at what you do: I noticed an osprey making off with a fish so heavy the osprey fought to hang on to it and still fly. An eagle swooped in, chasing and snatching at the osprey, trying to get it to drop the fish. The osprey dodged and kept going, until the eagle hit it hard enough it dropped the fish. The eagle snatched it mid-air and flew off.

What keeps you persevering? What makes you give up? What do you excel at? Why? What’s working for you? What’s challenging you to greatness?

Who are your role models, and why?

The Alchemy West Committee at Work

March 5, 2012 by Robyn Leave a Comment

There is a thing called the Alchemy West Committee. It is a real group, a business and life group, and not what you’d generally expect in either—because it includes me (a human), my animal family, two volcanoes, a beach, our condo, our car, my crystal partner Fallon, all my crystal friends, guides, and, well, all the beings who have something to say about the business we call Alchemy West.

I’m the only human here on a regular basis.

I didn’t set out to start a revolution. I just meant to start a business, and to let it grow at its own pace. That turned out to be slow enough to worry about profits, and big enough to go out in the world with my crystal partner, Fallon, to launch an intuitive consulting business that defies stereotypes. Really.

Big enough to embrace the world as a business that has nonhuman partners, to begin to model a new way of thinking and living in the world: all life together.

All the beings who are part of the Alchemy West Committee have something to say about the business. They also join in: if it weren’t for them, the classes I teach on how to develop your intuition would be like everyone else’s, instead of real opportunities for anyone with an open mind to learn how to tap their intuition and their connection with all life by speaking with dragons, a rock-and-roll goddess, cars, buildings, trees, crystals, wind, all the beings who show up to explore life in harmony with, well, all life.

They join in to help us all create community in the world.

Yes, serious topic. Fun, too.

And, some days, it’s just me, working in my office, accompanied by my hardworking animal family.

Yes, hardworking. Even sound asleep.

The good thing about the Alchemy West Committee? We take ourselves seriously. No matter what.

The question is: how many businesses take themselves seriously? It’s not just about money (that helps), or great employees (also helps).

It’s about mindset.

We’re comfortable with ours.

How about you?

How A Simple Thanks Will Pop Your Business

December 7, 2011 by Robyn Leave a Comment

I just bought dishes from Crate & Barrel. It’s not the first time I’ve purchased from them. It sure has heck won’t be the last.

I like the value of their products. You can buy inexpensive home products or go nuts for their higher end stuff. I love their Classic Century Dinnerware, designed by a woman in 1952 (hey, it was a great year and still looks great). I regretfully settled for a cheaper design that fit my budget and my clumsiness factor.

I like their service. In the store, they are as attentive to an $8 purchase (listening to what I needed, and offering suggestions) as they were to my online order.

But there’s nothing like a really pleasant surprise to seal the deal.

They delivered the dishes to my door. Essential when you’re handicapped and can’t lift and carry. Sure, everyone will do that, and some of them for free (this was).

It was what was inside the box that surprised me. You couldn’t miss it. Sitting right in the middle of the box, so it was the first thing you spotted: a thank you card.

A thank you card. “Big thanks” it said.

As I stared at it, I felt a big grin take over my face.

I opened the card. It included a thanks for buying and simple directions on what to do if I needed anything else. And, of course, my shipping bill.

Wow, think of that. A few quick lines. A follow-up thank you email.

A customer for life.

I thank my clients, too. Not as elegantly, I discovered. But I will.

After all, when a huge company can personalize a transaction with a mass-produced thank you card, then one person in business can do it, too. This company has it down: distinctive graphics, good products, a personal touch.

I thank people in person who come to see me and my crystal partner, Fallon. I thank everyone for everything. But this little touch reminded me that we happily do business with people who pay attention to us. It’s the little things that build community.

Like thanking customers for their business with a simple yet elegant thank you card clearly tied to the brand.

Thanks for the lesson, Crate & Barrel.

I will be definitely be back.

So, when was the last time a business thanked you for shopping with them? And when did you last thank someone for shopping with you? Did it matter?

How We’ll Make the Economy Work Again

September 9, 2011 by Robyn Leave a Comment

We’ll get the economy rolling again when we start taking it—and ourselves—seriously.

That means we start saying ‘NO’ because we should have said that way back at some crazy point when buying things became convenient, and price and ethics didn’t matter.

What is a fair price? What is a fair profit? How do we exchange goods and services so everyone is comfortable?

Granted, this is a big discussion, but it all comes down to one thing: how we create a worldview that includes an economy that makes sense for all of us.

Like this:

The big retailers are now into ‘rollbacks.’ Yay, they’re reducing prices so goods are cheaper. Score one for … can’t say.

Because what were they doing before? ‘Rollforwards?’ Scoring bigger profits than they needed? So they needed to ‘rollback’ to keep us buying?

And you still do business with them why?

Give a good, sound, win-win answer to that for all of us and our economy will work again.

For all of us.

Alchemy West: Our Interview at Working Dog Wednesday

January 13, 2011 by Robyn Leave a Comment

Robyn: One of the best things at Alchemy West in 2010 was working with Bella the Boxer and her staff, Ellen Galvin and Patrick Galvin, on Bella’s book.

Yes, Bella is a dogpreneur and wrote Secrets of a Working Dog: Unleash Your Potential and Create Success. Bella has upped the ante on the self-help genre, showing humans how they can create successful lives with the vigor, wisdom, and wit that only a working dog like a boxer can provide.

I loved helping Bella shape her book. And we also helped her publish it, teaming up with Robert Lanphear, the artistic director who is the creative and technical expert at Lanphear Design in Seattle.

Bella writes a blog, too, http://blog.bellatheboxer.com/, and has a regular column, Working Dog Wednesday, where she ‘interviews cool working dogs.’ In our case she graciously agreed to include me and Grace the Cat in her interview with Alchemy West’s Cavalier King Charles Spaniels, Murphy and Alki.

Bella is Director of Goodwill (D.O.G.) at Galvin Communications in Portland, Oregon. Ellen Galvin is the company’s chief wordsmith. Patrick Galvin is a professional speaker who galvanizes audiences to achieve greater levels of success in work and life.

Match Bella’s spunkiness with a couple of Cavaliers and a cat and you end up laughing a lot as you chat about working and living in the 21st century. Here’s the complete interview, before editing (not even an intuitive communicator like me can keep three dogs and a cat from goofing off on the job and just gabbing). It also had to be edited for things that might not meet FCC standards, like a cat saying the word ‘naked.’ It would come from a cat, wouldn’t it?

You can also find us at Bella’s blog, Bella the Boxer!

Here’s the complete interview.

Bella: Well, this is a first … I’m interviewing a whole team! Murphy, Alki and Grace the Cat make up the powerful board of directors at Alchemy West Inc., a Seattle-based company led by Robyn M Fritz. Robyn also happens to be the editor of my book, which is one reason that I’m so proud of it! Welcome!

Robyn: Hi, Bella! I’m glad you liked my help with your book. You have wonderful things to tell all of us about leading balanced lives, with the emphasis on fun! And you were fabulous to work with! I can’t wait to see what you write next!

Grace the Cat: What, a dog writing a book? How does that happen?

Murphy and Alki: Bella’s talented. And we helped by keeping the office in order while Robyn worked with her.

Grace the Cat: Well, there was a lot of laughing.

Murphy and Alki: Bella’s funny!

Bella: And smart.

Murphy and Alki: And wise! We have to admit, boxers are cool, especially Bella. But we’re Cavaliers, known for exceptional clarity of thought and devotion to duty, well, okay, cookies and fun times. We could write a book.

Robyn and Grace the Cat: What?

Murphy and Alki (giggling): Well, there is that thing about Bella being a working dog!

Bella: Wait, why are you guys laughing?

Murphy and Alki: We’re toy dogs! We get paid to play and look cute!

Grace the Cat: Sheesh, dogs. You don’t say that kind of thing around humans!

Robyn: Really. I see a lock on the cookie jar coming.

Murphy, Alki, and Bella: Oh, no!

Grace the Cat: Like I said …

Bella: Tell us a bit about yourselves and Alchemy West, Inc.

Robyn: It’s all about storytelling. I believe that telling stories creates good will, good humor, and great communities, so I tell my stories and help visionary writers tell theirs. I go out and talk with groups about storytelling, especially telling stories about their animals. And because I’m also an intuitive communicator, I help people speak with the beings in their life. It’s all connected because a healthy, balanced world starts with an intuitive, heart-based connection between humans and the beings they most treasure, from their writing projects to their animal companions, homes, businesses, and the land around them.

I love working with writers who are eager to jump into an intuitive, gut-level approach to find and shape their books, whether it’s through individual book development services or group writing seminars.

And it’s inspiring and deeply fulfilling to see how intuitive communication enriches people’s family and business lives by simply helping them talk with the beings who are waiting to talk with them.

Bella: I understand that Robyn wrote a book about you, Bridging Species: Thoughts and Tales About Our Lives with Dogs. The Dog Writers Association of America has nominated it as 2010 Best Book – Humor. It was also nominated for the 2010 Merial Human-Animal Bond Award, given to the work that best highlights the unique relationship between a dog and its owner and best brings to life the concept of the human-animal bond. Very big deal for you guys. So, what does it feel like to be famous?!

Grace the Cat: We’re famous?

Murphy and Alki: Well, we are! We get all the attention at book signings and public events because we’re the cover dogs. People actually stop when they drive by and see us on the street (even when Robyn is outside in her pajamas).

Grace the Cat: I’m the only one here with fashion sense. Those are NOT pajamas. And the dogs—they wear raincoats outside! I’m for the natural look: naked!

Murphy and Alki and Robyn: We noticed.

Robyn: Grace, you just said …

Bella: Robyn, why do you write about the human-animal bond?

I worked in Cavalier rescue for a few years, helping dogs find new homes. I realized that I could help a few dogs that way or help a lot more by writing about how and why we create families with animals, and what that means from a mystical, cultural, practical, and even comic aspect.

Murphy: I’m very funny. And Alki, you can’t help but laugh with him!

Grace: You’re dogs, goes without saying.

Robyn: It’s like that all day around here. The cat and dog wisecracking! I sometimes wonder how we get any work done.

Bella: What other projects do you have in store for Robyn in 2011?

Murphy and Alki and Grace: Robyn is busy writing Murphy’s Tales. It tells how Murphy’s chronic illness as a young dog inspired our family’s journey to wellness and sparked Robyn’s intuitive abilities. And how Murphy taught Robyn street smarts—

Robyn: Sad, but true, and she was only six months old.

Alki and Grace: And saved them both from an earthquake—before it happened!

Robyn: Yes, all things that made me wonder what was going on in animal minds, and how I could find out. This year I’m also doing a lot of writing coaching and teaching events, to help people focus and tell their stories efficiently and well and get them out into the world. And speaking about how we deepen relationships with all life, from animals to the world around us.

Murphy and Alki and Grace: We’re also writing an online magazine, Bridging the Paradigms, full of stories about creating community with all life. And Robyn is doing all kinds of intuitive work with our newest family member: the crystal, Fallon. It’s intense, but we’re never too busy to play, eat, and power nap!

Bella: So, Robyn, are Murphy and Alki and Grace the Cat your creative muses?

Robyn: In many ways, yes. They help me explore a new normal for a family: that multi-species families are families first, and species second, and what matters is that we’ve chosen to live our lives together. When I look at my family I see thinking, intelligent, resourceful, loving, intriguing souls who just happen to be in animal bodies. Their lives are worthwhile, and ours are together. They accept my limitations with far more diplomacy and patience than I do theirs.

Grace: Yes, dogs can be a trial. That’s why I trained mine well.

Murphy and Alki: What?

Robyn: Grace, that’s a secret of a working cat.… Seriously, my family makes me think about what the world can be like if we accept the diversity of all life. If we can create loving relationships within a multi-species family, how hard can it really be for humans to get along?

Murphy and Alki and Grace: We’re the inspiration—and the comic relief! We’re not just pets, we’re family. We help Robyn see what families look like when we don’t take each other for granted, when we don’t set limits on how they should look but explore what they can and do look like when everybody’s equal.

Robyn: That’s right. I pay attention to what bores, entertains, intrigues, annoys, or puzzles them, and I write about how we try to mesh that into a multi-species family, where we all have attitudes.

Grace: What’s an attitude?

Bella and Murphy and Alki: A cat.

Murphy and Alki and Grace: We joke around, but we’re creatives, just like Robyn. We helped her realize that families come in all shapes and sizes and manner of beings, and learning how to adapt to each other is how we come together to make the world a better place.

Bella: What are your roles? How do you avoid stepping on each other’s fuzzy little toes?

Grace: Alki snoozes all day on his dog bed and Murphy holds down the recliner, so I clearly have to supervise them and watch for intruders from my windowsill perch. When I decide the work day is done, I sit by the keyboard, push all the pens off the desk, and, if that doesn’t work, I climb on Robyn’s shoulder and put my tail in her face.

Murphy and Alki: We taught Grace how to shut the laptop.

Robyn: That trick I could do without.

Murphy and Alki: Plus we take Robyn for walks, fetch sticks, lobby for cookie breaks, make people laugh at our cute grins, run errands, greet visiting writers, take Grace for car rides, and feed Robyn one-liners. We’re on duty all day unless a sunspot shows up or we need to snoop on the neighborhood.

Bella: Any advice for other working dogs (er, cats, too!)?

Murphy and Alki and Grace: We like being part of the new families people are creating with us. Teach your humans how to laugh, take breaks, and play and exercise with us, and keep imagining new ways for all of us to be together in one big community. Take your jobs as family members and office mates seriously. The pay is great.

Robyn: The pay? Well… thanks, Bella, for chatting with us. And keep writing!

The Gift of Grace: An Unexpected Lesson

Saying Goodbye to a Neighborhood Institution

When It All Makes Sense: Stepping Up to Do Your Work

Are You Stuck? Or Living a Bald Eagle Life?

Getting Unstuck with Bald Eagles

Living the Bald Eagle Life: Our Challenge for Greatness

What Challenges You to Greatness?

The Alchemy West Committee at Work

How A Simple Thanks Will Pop Your Business

How We’ll Make the Economy Work Again

Alchemy West: Our Interview at Working Dog Wednesday

Bridging the Paradigms

Alchemy West Inc.

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Email Robyn

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