Apologies for joy and safety

As summer winds down in Portugal, smoky skies are finally making way for foggy mornings. The clack-clack-clack-clack-clack of rolling suitcases on cobblestones has quieted down to a low rumble, punctuated by the chatter of seagulls. And the faint aroma of grilled sardines has retired until next June.

We live in the center of an intense tourist area so fall is my favorite time here. It feels like home again in the fall. Everyone returns to the sidewalks (instead of wandering in the middle of the streets like they're on Main Street at Disneyland), and getting hip-checked by very sturdy old ladies trudging up and down 1200-year-old hills for heir daily groceries in shoes that look like they were made in cement factory once-again becomes part of the routine.

It's like time (and global reality) has stopped here.

No one seems to be tuned into school shootings and civil rights atrocities and Trump's daily fresh hells.

The only things most people seem to yell about here are a. how immigration has destroyed housing prices (they're not wrong), b. football, or c.....

Actually nope, just those two things.

And then I spend all day in my online ecosystem - full of trans, brown, queer, and neurodiverse people who are currently and daily traumatized by the the very air they are breathing.

Every day, I try to help - to serve - to do what I do. And every day the divide gets a little wider. Being an American who is not IN America - but who is, instead, living in a place tourists mistake for Disneyland - is equal parts the most healing thing I could do for myself and my family and really really strange. I have never been on the outside of my peer community quite like this before. And even writing this feels off somehow. Like how am I allowed to even voice my experience when a few days ago, the 8-year-old neighbor of one of my clients was killed in a church.

And here I am talking about how strange it is to feel safe and healthy when no one I know feels safe or healthy.

When I'm sick, I can go to the doctor without any anxiety.

When I'm hungry, my healthy food options are abundant.

When I leave the house, I never worry about being harassed or hurt (or worse).

It is truly astounding that I feel guilty - guilty - writing that. Sharing that. I want to apologize to so many of you. Like, "I'm so sorry I'm not with you in this crisis." "I'm so sorry I was able to leave before things got as completely insane as they are now."

I'm sorry for my privilege. And my financial stability. And my safety.

I'm so so sorry.

But I'm also acutely aware that privilege has its, well, privileges. One of those is an external perspective and the physiological grounding that affords me a vantage point that is at least slightly less saturated in dread (and the collateral paralysis) than many of my people.

I'm only just finding my way to how I can use this.

It's imperfect. Challenging. Confronting.

And I feel honored to be in a position to at least attempt to be a port in the storm.

This week, I have three invitations for you:

1. I invite you to read what I wrote about Alex Hormozi's recent launch in which I compare/contrast the marketing methods deployed by him, stood against another successful marketer who took a vastly different approach. If huge launches feel icky for you, you will likely enjoy this quite a lot.

2. My signature group, Bread & Butter, will be opening it's doors for a few new members in a couple of weeks. The group is a really special space. It's small, intimate, queer and neurodiverse-friendly, and deeply supportive. Here's what one of our members had to say:

"This group has changed how I think of groups and support. I have the gift of being able to support people of radically different backgrounds and purpose, and am supported by them. My mind is challenged and opened by their ideas, fears, joys. all while being held by illana in a grip of love, loose enough to guide me individually while holding the promise of the group." - Jen C.

I'll be opening it to the wait list first, and only intend to take a few new members for the next six months. You can sign up for the wait list here. And if you have questions, please feel welcome to reach out: illana@illanaburk.com.

3. I also have a couple of spots open for 1:1 coaching with me. Learn more.