I keep looking at the unfinished question.
It is half a question. Or a whole question, half-asked. Like a croissant with a bite out of it, just sitting on a plate.
Or maybe it is the finished question. Finished as in: ready. Ready for me. Maybe it’s all I need to ask:
What is more astonishing?
Yes, Havi. What is more astonishing?
I found this question one morning, scribbled on a post-it next to my bed, and laughed for a very long minute.
It’s like a Richard Brautigan poem, from that very specific category of “Things a regret-filled alcoholic writes down, finds later, is intrigued by, recognizes as poetry”.
Of course, the original question I intended to write and didn’t finish might easily have been more along the lines of: “What’s more astonishing, that Chris Pratt has an entirely new body or that the Tile app is a thing that exists, or will?”
But I don’t know. I don’t have an X or a Y to compare. All I have is the question, and I love it.
So I’m going to ask it. I will let it reverberate, like a stone skipping across the water.
What is more astonishing?
That I spent ten years devoting my life to bringing a very particular dance into the world but didn’t think of myself as a dancer. A dance instructor maybe, but not a dancer.
And now I don’t teach that dance anymore. (Well, except secretly at Rally, but that isn’t actually teaching so much as playing).
But you know what? I am more of a dancer than I ever was before. I am at home in dance.
I am at home in dance again. In the sense that I have returned to being a dancer. I have returned to my gazelle roots.
What is more astonishing?
That I am a dancer who suddenly has a ballroom. With the best dance floor in town.
I have a ballroom. I have a BALLROOM. I have a Ballroom.
What is more astonishing?
That oh, maybe six or seven years ago, in Berlin, I was slowly climbing the stairs to an old dusty ballroom. Trembling, because I knew this was the most thrilling and important moment of my life even though I didn’t know why.
I walked in, felt its pull, looked up at the chandeliers entwined in masses of cobwebs, and burst into tears.
It was the strongest emotion I have ever felt in my entire life.
I stood on the low stage, filled with awe, and whispered: I have danced here. I have danced here.
It wasn’t true because I had never been there, but it was true, because I remembered it.
The next day I went back and the ballroom was being renovated. Cleaned up and modernized. No more cobwebs. I had been with it on its last day as what it had been. What it had been when I had danced there in my memories and dreams.
I had arrived just in time for the goodbye. And now I have a ballroom of my own.
What is more astonishing?
That I was not thinking about any of this when I suddenly acquired a ballroom. In fact, I tried to make my ballroom into a [magical bookshop, let’s say] instead of letting it be a ballroom.
That is astonishing too.
What is more astonishing?
That my ballroom is the Red Rose.
I always thought I didn’t like roses, but then I moved to the Rose City almost six years ago, and then one thing happened and then another thing, and now I am mad about roses.
A song just came on in the cafe I am in and it is a song about roses. It was a sweet moment.
What is more astonishing?
That I don’t want to wear black and grey anymore.
What is more astonishing?
That I ended a relationship and doing this was the scariest thing I have ever done, because who am I without this and how can I be happy without this.
And nothing is wrong.
I still have this person, I still have this love, I still have all the things I need. Just in a new configuration. Everything reconfigures. And I am okay.
And if I had lost this person, I would still be okay. That is astonishing.
What is more astonishing?
That I am looking forward to being 37. A smoking hot 37. This number suddenly appeals to me greatly.
What is more astonishing?
That I suddenly have two mathematicians in my life. Me, who barely has fourth grade math skills.
What is more astonishing?
That I am admitting to myself that I care deeply about things that I have always cared about but pretended not to.
Dancing, for one thing. Clothing and costumes. Adoration. Thankfulness. Flowers.
What is more astonishing?
That I am suddenly ready to care less about other things.
Even more astonishing: I think I’m finally ready to let go of the need to care what everyone else might be thinking about the other things. Or about me…
Because caring what they think and worrying about what they are possibly thinking falls under the category of Not My Job.
I’m quitting that job. I keep agreeing to come back, but I’m quitting.
It’s hard when you were raised in a culture that thinks this is a very important job and also that it should be your job.
It is astonishing that we put up with that.
What is more astonishing?
That suddenly I want to be seen.
In all kinds of different ways.
What is more astonishing?
Actually, it is even more astonishing than that, because not only do I have this sudden unlikely desire to be seen, I also want to be more invisible than I have ever wanted before.
It’s almost as if the ways I want to be seen and invisible are not just different than they used to be, but reversed.
I used to want to be seen in my business, seen as a teacher, seen as a leading expert of the [Tree of Life] practice. A being seen that was about authoritative presence.
But to be invisible in my personal life: anonymous, free to slip by without being noticed. An invisibility that was about safety and comfort.
Now I want my Ballroom to be seen by people who need it, and the techniques and concepts that I play with to be seen by people who need them. But I don’t want to be at the front of the room anymore. In fact, I don’t want to even be in a world where there’s anyone at the front of the room.
I want us to play, together, as equals. Not with me as the leader. Without being projected onto, without being cast in the role of the person who knows stuff. We all know stuff.
But in my personal life? I want to wear tight gold pants. I want to shine. I want to dance all night and to carry my beautiful, quiet, steadily humming glow with me everywhere I go.
Yes, this is astonishing.
What is more astonishing?
That I have been silent for nearly a year now, and this has been one of the most creative periods I have ever experienced.
That the quieter I get, the more my heart overflows with sweetness.
That I have an imaginary chocolate shop, which is also filled with sweetness.
That I had to get this quiet to let other things get louder.
What is more astonishing?
That my whole life is full of absolutely astonishing things, and I am apparently oblivious to this, blithely walking through my astonishing life and not even noticing.
What is more astonishing?
That pretty much everything in my life fell apart over the last two years, and I am actually suddenly, much to my surprise, kind of okay with all that. Kind of happy about it, even.
Or let’s say that differently:
I am discovering an astonishingly thankful heart. Along with the me who trusts that all timing is right timing.
I am uncovering appreciation for the way I lost the things I lost, and appreciation for the parts that are not lost at all. I am looking at the broken pots, and loving them, deeply. Roses for the broken pots. Roses for the new containers. Roses for all of it.
Play with me?
You can ask this (astonishing) question yourself if you like, and discover what is more astonishing.
You can share sparks sparked for you. You can leave love and flowers.
Commenting culture: we are on permanent vacation from caretaking and advice-giving. We let people have their own experience, and we are kind, both to ourselves and each other.
Love, as always, to the commenter mice, the Beloved Lurkers and everyone who reads. The fact that you are all here to keep me company counts as another astonishing thing that I appreciate greatly.
postscript.
This post is an (edited) excerpt from one of my Year Books for my Year of Emptying And Replenishing, where I model process/techniques in a more intimate way than on the blog. Currently deciding if these should be made available for purchase on their own, or just with next year’s program, which has not been named yet. Let me know if you have an inclination.
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THIS: “But I don’t want to be at the front of the room anymore. In fact, I don’t want to even be in a world where there’s anyone at the front of the room.”
I had this experience recently. I put on a t-shirt from a restaurant in New Haven called “Claire’s” that I got when I was looking at Yale with my Dad a LONG time ago.
It felt all wrong because it was huge. I had to change. I’m reasonably sure that I got the XL because it was the only size they had at the time, but I would’ve gotten a large in any case in those days.
My body hasn’t changed all that much in 2 decades but now I wear men’s small t-shirts and they feel right. Men’s fitted even! And that is astonishing to me.
The title alone is magical – thank you for making the entire post a lovely poem too.
Even though I’m not a Pagan anymore, I still think of Ereshkigal as “my patron” because Upheaval and Endings-of-Things-I-Wasn’t-Quite-Ready-to-Let-Go of are ongoing motifs.
In the past year, I’ve had to relinquish (iirc) ~ 12 labels that I thought were integral to my identity. Not only am I doing okay, I’m thriving.
I love old ballrooms. I really really wish I could see yours. I’ve never been to Portal Land, or the Pacific Northwest.
37 was a rockin’ year for me too. I think it may have been my pinnacle of vibrant & sexy, in fact. I hope it’s an amazing year for you too!
Oh, and I forgot, because there is so much amazing in this post, but … I *hate* “leadership”, and how focused our culture is on insisting everyone should want to be, and try to be, a leader. I don’t lead; I don’t follow. I do my own thing. I infinitely prefer people who do things similarly.
So much more interesting when things organize from the bottom up, you know, like in Nature.
What is more astonishing? That the YEARbooks, an answered prayer, exist. I do have an opinion on this – I hope you make them available. <3
*I have a very strong inclination to join next year’s programme*
Other than that, yes to making *All the writing* available for purchase.
Me! Hello! I have an inclination!
🙂
Sending love and flowers and a fluttering of sparkly ribbons.
I am grateful for old possessions meeting new needs: a wine crate that became a plant stand and is now a sick-sofa shelf. My neck pillow from my business travel days turning out to be perfect as both a lap rest for electronics and sleep support for someone who can’t lie down completely. Old, worn books offering the right sizes and surfaces for plates of food.
I am surprised that my allergies have eased up this year. It seems to be connected to the yoga. I am delighted that my big brother has been finding solace in bikram.
I am astonished that I am willing to forgo Charleston and Cincinnati and other jaunts I had been looking forward to in order to build the nest egg for improving my nest.
What is more astonishing — that I find myself not missing things I had saved for so long, or that I find myself drawn to studying [a] even when the learning curve keeps stretching away from me like an infinitely elastic band?
I also have an opinion about Year Books’ availability, outside of Programs. Please release them! I bought 1 of your e-books earlier this year, and it was really wonderful.
I probably won’t ever be able to get out to PNW, but I can buy an e-book.
This… “Because caring what they think and worrying about what they are possibly thinking falls under the category of Not My Job.”
I need this… thanks for articulating it so well… because it makes it easier for me to inch closer to the freedom that is packed up in that statement and waiting to burst out and cover me with flower petals.
I am astonished that I am so calm after just finding out a few hours ago that my contractor hours are going from 40 hours/week to 5/hours a week starting today.
What’s is more astonishing?
That it’s happening just in time for a giant program I wanted to attend the week of Thanksgiving and now I’m going to be able to attend all of it instead of just 2.5 days. So happy about this!
What is more astonishing?
That I am trusting and feel hopeful!
What is more astonishing?
That I have been healthy enough to work 40 hours per week for the last 4.5 months. SUCH a big deal.
What is more astonishing?
That I don’t have bad feelings toward the people in the office and I am actually writing my friends a sweet note letting them know that I’ll see them Friday when I come in to pick up my paycheck.
What is more astonishing?
How resilient I can be.
What is more astonishing?
That I figured out my food budget just in time (a few days ago) so we didn’t blow a bunch of money on vegan ice cream and cookies and fresh sourdough bread! (So much better than the cookies and ice cream.)
What is more astonishing?
How incredibly love and cared for I am. How I am always being held and supported by something greater than myself.
What is more astonishing?
How GREAT making this list of astonishing things has made me feel! Love it!!
Thank you, dear Havi. (Oh, and I’m turning 38 later this month; 37 is definitely the year for tight gold pants.)
Oh! And I am so in favor of you releasing helpful things out into the world! <3
I also have an inclination haha. I would love the yearbooks to be available on its own.
I loved this post. A lot. I love the way you write.
The quote Barbara quoted is full of sparks for me, as is the next paragraph: “I want us to play, together, as equals. Not with me as the leader. Without being projected onto, without being cast in the role of the person who knows stuff. We all know stuff.” So thank you, thank you for that & the other astonishments of this post.
If the Year books were to be available, I’d definitely be inclined to check them out. (Although I’m also keeping a curious eye out for next year’s program.)
Ah, so beautiful! Thank you, Havi. So many sparks here… Astonishment and wonder abound. Being seen and staying invisible. Some of our biggest changes happen without even knowing it. On namah shivaya.
WOW. All those things ARE astonishing. WOW. One million sparklepoints for you!
For me, I need to reflect on what is astonishing…what comes to mind is that I have had many many gut-punching, heart-ripping setbacks this year, and while I am not grateful for them, I am still moving forward every day. Getting up and taking steps for my dream. Not giving up.
Lately I think I am and always have been a ballroom. And I arrived just in time for the goodbye.
And now — having said my goodbyes — I think I finally have a ballroom of my own.
This is astonishing to me. And wonderful.
You say goodbye. I say hello.
Every exit is an entrance somewhere else.
Etc. Etc. This is me smiling. Happy. A ballroom of my own.
PS: yes. Book.
Not. My. Job. That is exactly the support that I needed today. Thank you, universe; thank you Havi.
And yes, I would be inclined to buy if sold as an ebook. I will also look into next year’s program, but ebook would be easier for me.
Hugs and sparkles to all!
I tend to think of my forties (and I’m more than halfway through them now) as the Decade of Astonishment. So many developments that I never, ever would have predicted.
What is more astonishing?
I am almost afraid to ask.
What is more astonishing?
That joy is not nearly so closely linked to external circumstances as I had previously thought. Very often, joy really *can* be a conscious choice. There was a time when I would have had a lot more trouble believing that.
<3
what is more astonishing?
tonight, i am at least STARTING the night, with a child free bed. such luxury! (a child containing bed, also luxury. but i’m glad to be having the first luxury tonight). yay. just me and my feelings and my sweet, sweet doona, which has always felt so safe. even that time i was tripping on acid and real life got too intense to stay at the club talking with the Extremely Polite Fully Tattooed (like, FULLY) Man and I made my friends take me home and then I lay there with my doona up to my nostrils listening in detail to the washing machine churning and rinsing and refilling and draining and it was a fucking SYMPHONY.
life feels a bit like that tonight and i’m not even on acid. Like, LIFE!!! Oh my god! Have you NOTICED????
Oh Claire I miss your absolutely delicious-crazy self.
what is more astonishing…?
that I have been a singer for 20+ years, sung in more concerts than I can account, or that I forget EVERY SINGLE DAY that a singer is what I am? Or that singing figures into exactly ZERO of my destuckfication tools?
What does a singer do?
She sings! She expresses herself with music. Opera singers– they feel! Dialogues are just prelude, the recitativo, to the aria that follows. Conversations are duets. Everything is harmony. Everything is music.
What is astonishing?
That I came to the edge of the diving board, and fell off with a certain, unusual grace into the pool below.
What is more astonishing?
That it took me this long to get to the diving board, and to figure out that this pool is where I have belonged all along. *splish splash*
And yes to all the ebooks!
Ah, these are all so beautiful. Astonishments! Astonishments for everyone. I love you guys.
This post is beautiful, and just what I need right now. I would love to buy your ebooks!