What's in the gallery?
We dissolve stuck and rewrite patterns. We apply radical playfulness to life (when we feel like it!), embarking on internal adventures (credo of Safety First). We have a fake band called Solved By Cake. We build invisible sanctuaries, invent words and worlds, breathe awe and wonder.
We are not impressed by monsters. Except when we are. We explore the connections between internal territories and surrounding environment to learn what marvelously supportive delicious space feels like, and how to take exquisite care of ourselves. We transform things.* We glow wild.**
* For example: Desire, fear, worry, pain-and-trauma, boundaries, that problematic word which rhymes with flaweductivity.
** Fair warning: Self-fluency has been known to lead to extremely subversive behavior, including treasuring yourself unconditionally, unapologetically taking up space, experiencing outrageously improbable levels of self-acceptance, and general rejoicing in aliveness.
What's in the gallery?
We dissolve stuck and rewrite patterns. We apply radical playfulness to life (when we feel like it!), embarking on internal adventures (credo of Safety First). We have a fake band called Solved By Cake. We build invisible sanctuaries, invent words and worlds, breathe awe and wonder.
We are not impressed by monsters. Except when we are. We explore the connections between internal territories and surrounding environment to learn what marvelously supportive delicious space feels like, and how to take exquisite care of ourselves. We transform things.* We glow wild.**
* For example: Desire, fear, worry, pain-and-trauma, boundaries, that problematic word which rhymes with flaweductivity.
** Fair warning: Self-fluency has been known to lead to extremely subversive behavior, including treasuring yourself unconditionally, unapologetically taking up space, experiencing outrageously improbable levels of self-acceptance, and general rejoicing in aliveness.
Solstice-ing
Announcement / get your copy of Emergency Calming Down Techniques
I’ve been reeling hard lately in some cursed combination of heartache, numbness, political anxiety, winter stuff and some wild panic episodes.
Have been holding on (for dear life) to my Emergency Calm The Hell Down Techniques from a long time ago, and it’s been helping.
I am giving away a copy of these (ebook + audio recordings) to anyone who gives any sum of money to the appreciation funds / discretionary fund in the hopes that we can all keep practicing together, for each other and for the collective, and also for ourselves in these scary times. ❤️
Solstice-ing
Sheila, maybe, and the paper-colored sky
I was listening to an old, old episode of the Reply All podcast (RIP), and the hosts were catching up with people they’d talked to over the past year, and they called a woman who, in my mind at least, is named Sheila, but I can’t remember if that’s because it was in fact her name or because she reminds me of someone.
Sheila, maybe, was recently divorced and living in a cold trailer somewhere in Indiana, and she’d had a rough year.
I over-identify with [Maybe: Sheila] because I too live in a cold trailer, and am also experiencing a kind of heartbroken loneliness that I would describe as unbearable, untenable, unsustainable, overwhelming…
She described the Indiana winter as “the sky is the color of a blank piece of paper”, and the way she was coping with that vast nothing-ness of papery sky was by venturing out on walks to look for owls, to listen to owls and observe the owls.
Something about
Something about stark contrast, the beauty revealed within the starkness. Something about what is or can be made visible within the vast nothing. Something about persevering.
This also reminds me of something else, what does it remind me of?
Starkness
Ah yes, a beautiful audio piece that Arash sent me, saying it made him think of me, and that I should listen, so I did.
It’s from Terry Tempest Williams, a writer and conservationist, and it’s an evocative description of the awful (and awe-ful) terrifying experience of witnessing a flood, up close and present.
Many images and feelings reverberated within me while listening. Maybe because I have also been through flooding events while on my own, though not at that proximity.
But especially this, in her words about the desert but true of so many things:
“What appears at first to be nothing becomes everything.”
Maybe, maybe
To be clear, I am not as brave as Sheila, not nearly.
It’s been many years (more than thirty) since I had to make it through a midwestern American winter, and I don’t think I could do another one. Let’s be honest, I am only barely coping here in the southwest, a place where my friend the sun can fortunately be counted on to visit me fairly regularly.
The big sky of southern New Mexico is quite often blue in winter, and even on the most grim days there are nearly always blue streaks peeking through, but I simply will not venture outside unless the sun is shining.
And even then it requires elaborate trickery to coax myself into a fifteen minute walk around the property, walking in circles, saying hi to the trees. I’m glad to have done it when it’s done, but I never want to start.
I wish I were someone who could find the beauty in good-weather-for-owl-watching season, but I am not. I admire the approach though.
The everything in the nothing
The thing about the [pits of despair] experiences in life is that they do genuinely feel like FOREVER, even when you know that they are of right-now and not-forever.
They are able to project a vastness they do not possess, and part of steadfastly dissolving the lies of depression is remembering that.
This is momentary, it is temporary, it is uncomfortable and very unpleasant and I do not have to like it or find anything good in it.
And, it will pass, it will ease, something better is on the horizon even when I am fully unable to believe this is true.
Love, Strength, Courage, Miracles
I do the things that help.
I try to do even more of the things that help, and less of the things that do not help.
There is a lot of trust in this, and trust is scary, hard and not fun. The vulnerability of trust is an enormous act of bravery, and this is easy to forget too.
I might not be Sheila levels of brave, and will not take to the fields in pursuit of owls, but I do know that every single one-step-at-a-time of getting through a hard winter is its own form of fractal magic.
And so I ask for Love, Strength, Courage, Miracles, on repeat. Or something even better.
Solstice stones
The stones I like to skip (journaling questions) around Solstice are:
What wants to be eliminated? What wants to be illuminated?
Eliminating:
Releasing, undoing, disentangling, eliminating:
Doubt. Despair. Shame. Regret.
Judging myself for how hurt and broken I feel, wishing I could just hurry up and heal when that’s not how grief or healing work.
The habit-pattern of trying to solve the same impossible Rubix cube in my head when it brings me no joy. The devotion to the boring mysteries, made even more boring by how utterly unsolvable they are.
Assuming the worst about everything. Panicking first, strategizing later.
Either rushing or frozen, no in between. Forgetting to give myself grace, forgetting that I can’t push myself into feeling better. Sometimes the sky is blank like a page, and sometimes I am too. Listen for an owl.
Illuminating:
Devotion to beauty, noticing it in the natural world, in my space, in a breath of love into my courage-heart.
Candles. Lighting a candle for something better, without having to know what the better something is or looks like, just knowing that there is better, and I am allowed to want it for me and for the world.
Patterns. The easier they are to see, the easier they are to interrupt. Lovingly interrupting the pattern and shifting the pattern. Doesn’t matter where you interrupt it, even doing it after the fact has still altered the pattern.
My ongoing wish for Loving-Clarity, a revelatory clarity that reveals itself with love and compassion, a clarity that is kind.
Courage. A ten minute meandering for courage. Heating up soup for courage. Existing as an act of courage. Hope sparks as a demonstration of courage. Desire as a form of courage.
What’s working?
Practicing Now Is Not Then, and naming all the ways that now is in fact different from then.
Keeping a list of courageous things, and doing something brave each day. Often this is a very small step, but any step counts.
Making sure that each day I do something for mental health (wash my hair in the sink, or massage hands and feet with clove oil that I made on the new moon).
The dishes get washed, the rug gets vacuumed. The chop wood carry water of doing the basics.
I say thank you to my tree friends. I name what is helping, what got done, whatever small wins. And I celebrate these small wins with anyone willing to celebrate with me.
Solstice wishes, generally
Sometimes thinking about the promise of longer days and earlier light makes me feel hopeful in a dark winter, and sometimes all I can think about is how there’s still at least ten more weeks of winter.
So I guess my primary wishes are as ever about hope and trust, hoping towards, trusting towards, turning towards the light, but also about getting better at existing in the places that feel constricted or scary.
I am wishing for surprise ease, surprise miracles, good things on the horizon revealing themselves, already here.
And I am wishing for the steadying, grounding practices to do their steadying, grounding work of sustaining me through the hard times.
I am wishing to be surprised, in a good way by good news, things working out, the cauldron of It Solves Itself doing its beautiful work.
Solstice wishes, slightly more specific
More people to go on walks with, more people to hug, more companionship generally.
Simple solutions to seemingly complex situations. It is all working itself out. Upgrades are on their way.
May motivation reappear, with some sweetness and oomph to it. May I trust the process.
An easier time emerging from the pits of despair. A rededication to the practices that help and support staying out of said traps. Or what if they aren’t traps but more like reminders? That’s an idea.
Each step counts
Each step counts, whether I believe this or not, but what if I could remember and believe? What if I could infuse each step with intention. This moment matters.
Breathing courage into my loving heart, breathing love into my courage heart. Keeping on keeping on, but then something even better than that.
There is a pair of owls that nest near me. I am going to have to trust that knowing they are there is enough, because I am not going to go look for them.
Consulting with a tough, scrappy, motivated self
Took my own advice, and stopped writing and went outside. There is a spot in the field that feels like the center of a someday labyrinth, and I walked circles around it for twenty minutes.
It didn’t have advice for me because it is not a labyrinth yet, but it did suggest that I consult with the part of me who is tough, scrappy and motivated. The self I knew when I lived in Berlin.
Fine, let’s talk
Tough scrappy motivated self: It’s good that you braved the outdoors, it’s good to get perspective.
Me: I don’t feel better though.
Tough scrappy motivated self: Compared to what? Brave > not able to be that brave is a win. It’s all wins.
Me: I don’t want a pep talk. I want to feel more hopeful and less [the current feelings].
Tough scrappy motivated self: I wouldn’t pep-talk you anyway. You will feel better when you feel better. Right now you are experiencing the healing powers of feet on the earth, striding, being alive and in nature, beneath a beautiful sky. It will land, the land will land, you will land, it will make sense later. I’m just glad you walked it out.
Me: I miss having someone who was excited for my plans and excited to help me plan.
Tough scrappy motivated self: I am excited for your plans, you will remember how to feel excited again, the two of us are enough for right now. You don’t have to believe me, it’s just true.
Me: Okay, let’s walk more together and see how it goes.
Let’s walk more together
Solstice is nearly here. Let’s cultivate hope sparks and tend to what needs tending.
Wishes into the earth, into the cauldron of It Solves Itself. Doing what helps, and a little more of that. And then a little more!
Channeling steadiness. Making a list.
Looking to the stars. Wrapping up in blankets. Sending my wish of COURAGE into the earth, drawing courage up from the earth. We made it this far, good job, let’s keep going.
Come play in the comments, I appreciate the company
Leave a pebble (o) to say you were here, so I know I’m not doing this alone.
Also it feels good to pick up a pebble and place it somewhere, I have noticed.
And of course you are welcome to share anything that sparked for you while reading, anything that helped, clues received, or anything on your mind, wish some wishes, process what’s percolating…
I am lighting a candle for us and our beautiful heart-wishes. What a brave thing it is to allow ourselves to want something better for us and for the world.
Or if there’s anything you’d like to explore further or toss into the wishing pot, the healing power of the collective is no small thing, companionship helps.
Whatever comes to mind or heart. Let’s support each other’s hope-sparks…
Housekeeping note: You can subscribe to posts by email again!
If you aren’t seeing these updates in your in your email and want to, you can can solve that here.
This will pop up a new page on Follow.It that lets you subscribe via email, newsletter, or RSS reader. They say “expect 50 stories a week”, and that’s a very imaginary number, once a week is the dream.
I am emailing copies of the Emergency Calming Techniques package!
Anyone who gives to the Discretionary this week (more info below) will get my Emergency Calming Techniques package by email as a pdf. I am only checking email twice a week because I no longer have wifi at my place, long story, so be patient with me but if it doesn’t show up within the week then let me know!
I have some ideas for the next ebook too but if you do too, shoot me an email or share in the comments.
A request!
If you received clues or perspective or want to send appreciation for the writing and work/play we do here, I appreciate it tremendously.
I am accepting support (with joy & gratitude) in the form of Appreciation Money to the Discretionary Fund. Asking is not where my strength resides but Brave & Stalwart is the theme these days, and pattern-rewriting is the work, it all helps with fixing the many broken things.
And if those aren’t options, I get it, you can light a candle for support (or light one in your mind!), share this with someone who loves words, tell people about these techniques, approaches and themes, send them here, it all helps, it’s all welcome, and I appreciate it and you so much. ❤️
On Hope, and Seasonal Protocols
Announcement / if you want a copy of Emergency Calm Down Techniques
I have been reeling hard lately in some cursed combination of heartache, numbness, political anxiety, winter stuff and some wild panic episodes.
Have been holding on (for dear life) to my Emergency Calm The Hell Down Techniques from a long time ago, and that’s been helping me.
I am giving away a copy of these (ebook + audio recordings) to anyone who gives any sum of money at all to the appreciation funds / discretionary fund in the hopes that we can all keep practicing together, for each other and for the collective, and also for ourselves in these scary times. ❤️
On Hope, and Seasonal Protocols
Dark, dark, dark, dark
It is dark, dark, dark here right now, and by here I mean everything from generally, in the northern hemisphere, careening as we are towards winter solstice, to specifically in the place where I live where it is physically very dark.
There are no lights out in the countryside on the edge of national forest. I can’t see my neighbors. I can see stars through my kitchen window if the sky is clear of clouds.
I jog slow figure eights in my kitchen twice each day, in the dark of morning and the dark of evening.
A ritual that is equal parts staying warm and maintaining some sense of sanity; to give a rhythm to my days. Each day bookended by these slow perambulations.
Reorienting towards light sparks
A month ago my morning jog was a way to enjoy sunrise, the light returning as promised, here it comes. Come on, blue sky, hello fields, hello light on the treetops.
And a month ago my evening jog was for slow sweet sunset time.
And now while I am jogging, because evening and darkness arrive so very early now and the light stays away until later in the morning, there is no light at all — unless there is moonlight, other than the tea light lit in my bedroom, or the light of the space heater glowing beneath the desk.
An occasional flash of lights car on the winding country road, sometimes I can see a bright planet from my window.
And yet, still, etc
I always forget that December is like this, so very dark, so impossibly dark, as if this great darkness of sky is a force I need to re-learn to interact with. It’s so intense, it’s so big. It asks more trust of me than I am willing to offer.
And yet, the candle gets lit. I jog alone with my thoughts around the kitchen until it’s either bed time or day time. Bookends.
But also, if we go even more granular, if we gaze into the depths, there is a sensation of overwhelming darkness in my heart space where I am trying to re-locate my courage heart and my loving heart and my hopeful heart. That is to say, everything feels like it’s gone dark.
Gone dark, not necessarily bad
If everything has gone dark, or my impression is that it has…
Is that a bad thing? It doesn’t have to be.
What if navigating this terrain is in its own way seasonal or transient too. Here we are, in the time that calls for more candles, more ritual, more hope practices…
Now is not then
Last year I said I was in and out of the pits of despair, clawing my way out and then toppling back in, then trying again. Bravely, courageously.
Good job to last year me, who went through some hard things, including nine weeks without seeing a single person or having even one conversation, which was exquisitely miserable, and let’s not do that again.
This feels both similar but very different.
The act of describing something that can’t be described
Heartbreak and grief remain the same: brutal to experience, and also extremely boring if I attempt to describe them in words.
If we are going by physical sensation, hmmmmmmm maybe about half the time I feel like I’m about to vomit, and the other half of the time I’m on the verge of tears but simultaneously convinced that if I let myself cry as much as I need to, I will simply never stop, and also it will be the kind of hyperventilating-sobbing where it feels like you can’t access your breath, so I don’t want it, but also it is definitely waiting for me…
If I try to convey the emotional weight of it, there is also a 50-50 element to it, a teeter-totter effect. Not hovering between two places, but wobbling.
Teetering, not as thrilling as it sounds
Teetering, tottering, in the in-between.
I walk this very narrow path and everything is too dark, impossibly dark, and on one side of me is the Abyss of Anxiety, and on the other side is the Chasm of Depression & Despair, and also I am super fucking bored of both of them? But also of the sensation of being lost in between them.
And something about this sense that balancing is too much work but falling is so tiresome, even if has become less scary as it is more familiar. Like, sure, we fell, it happens. We know how this works. At least there’s that.
Let’s find a path. Let’s conjure a bridge to somewhere else. There has to be more to this internal territory of heart healing than these two pits I’ve been visiting.
Partially true (what’s also true?)
Took a clue walk the other day in the form of a sunny weekend drive to run errands, and felt overwhelmingly sad the entire time.
I thought about this Big Sadness and said: Maybe this will pass. Maybe I just have to get through it. Maybe there isn’t anything else to do right now other than be this sad.
That felt partially true and partially not (what’s also true???), but I didn’t get much time to think about it because of what happened next…
Miracles, miracles
On the drive back, I suddenly began crying so hard I couldn’t see the road and there was nowhere to pull over, so I kept asking for miracles and guidance.
Miracles, miracles. Guidance, guidance.
And what I received, almost immediately was this:
BREATHE INTO YOUR COURAGE HEART, BREATHE LOVE INTO YOUR COURAGE HEART.
Repetition
I made it through the winding country drive home by repeating this:
Miracles miracles / breathe into my courage heart / I am breathing love into my courage heart
And that helped somewhat.
Somewhat is nonzero, more than nothing, I will take it.
Also it helps that I can picture my courage heart because during morning movement practice, I finger-write the word courage on my heart and practice breathing into it.
Maybe
So maybe if I can breathe love into my courage heart, I can also breathe courage into my love heart.
Still heartbroken though. Multiple things can be true at once. Still hurting, still moving, still breathing, still striding, still here.
Still here. Still breathing into my courage heart.
On Hope
A friend who has also been going through some hard life challenges said:
“I want to believe it’s possible to find some hope.
And also it kind of seems like hope is something you do? Like it’s a practice, putting on socks, standing up, putting one foot in front of the other. Or even just sitting up, right? Continuing to live. Maybe thinking through what would need to happen [with all the challenges] is a form of practicing hope? To think it’s even possible that things could change?”
Hope as a practice
I do agree with my wise friend that hope is sometimes like putting on socks — but harder, though some days socks are also a journey of perceived obstacles to be sure.
And also yes, hope is just something that needs a lot of repetition.
And I do wish to acknowledge that hope in and of itself can sometimes feel so hard and so scary; it can feel utterly fragile, or hard to access.
It is such a loving thing to do too, a brave and loving thing, to hope for other people and for yourself.
A candle in the window. A statement in the form of an action. It is morning and so I will jog in my little circles until the light returns.
A critical component
The part of Hope Practices that’s about releasing attachment to outcome is also so hard, and yet to me that seems like a critical component to hope.
I hope for better, I want things to improve, for me and for people I love and for people in the world and for everyone reading here. And also I have no way of knowing what the best possible outcome is; I don’t even necessarily know what a good outcome is.
And so I have to trust that solutions are being seeded, that mysteries are solving themselves, that help is on the way, that guidance is there is for me.
Part of hope as a practice includes the hope that practicing the practice and doing the things that helps holds its own value and meaning, even on the days when I cannot feel into the truth of that.
(If that makes sense)
I hope to be loved again in the way that I thought [person] loved me, but I also have to hope for the kind of contentment that will let me be okay with not finding a love like that even though I want it. If that makes sense.
I will or I won’t, but either way I don’t have to stay here between the two chasms. I can wander my way, or powerfully stride my way, into new territories. If that makes sense too.
Inside of my own tiny universe of chaos, I continue to hope my way towards remembering my strength, towards a re-invigorated sense of resilience.
I hope my way towards myself. I am hoping my way towards myself.
Actively, purposefully, sometimes terrified, sometimes teetering a little.
On Resilience
A lovely person who reads what I write here wrote:
You’ve inspired a lot of resilience in me, and I could never properly thank you for that. Still. Thank you. The future looks bleak, but I light a candle and I hope.
That’s very beautiful to me.
Resilience is a hope-based practice, and Hope is a resilience-based practice. Neither feels intuitive to me, and yet, what else is there.
Lighting a candle matters. Naming the painful things and naming the beautiful things. Breathing love into my courage heart. Breathing courage into my loving hurting heart.
Breathing hope into my resilience heart, resilience into a hopeful heart. We can do this. Or at least: we can try and keep trying, and trust in the trying. The trying matters.
On Ballast
Another lovely reader of what I post here wrote:
Thank you for all the ballast your writing has given over these now fairly many years. Your latest – on reeling and No Fucksgiving – were so welcome. In this time of feeling often disconnected, they melted into me and I’m moving through the days with them.
I love the image of ballast, something that balances and stabilizes. A word from the world of ships and sailing, which are movement-based and not chasms at all.
Even better, they take place at sea, and while it’s true that the sea can also seem dark and vast like the big winter sky here, the sea can also take you somewhere new on the trade winds.
Stabilizing practices for destabilizing times
We are in destabilizing times but we have stabilizing practices available to us: breath, movement, ritual, hope, candles, dancing, balancing, singing, humming, talking to the stars.
We can re-stabilize. We can do anchoring things.
Grounding practices
The thing I notice the most about my various movement practices is that they help even when they don’t. They help more than I think they will even when they help less than I want to.
Sometimes it’s enough to do them on the basis of believing that it’s good for me even when I’m fighting it.
The practice of hope is practicing hope.
Whatever reminds me to breathe more deeply, to drop my shoulders, to remember that my courage heart is there waiting for me to breathe into it…all of that is good and useful, whether I feel like it or not, whether I do a little or more than a little.
Tending to myself is valuable in and of itself. Remembering is valuable.
More guidance
I went to the pool to ask for wisdom, and it said to keep focusing on contentment (in my courage heart, in general) and naming the good and doing what helps, and assume it’s all for the best as a starting point.
As a starting point.
I like that.
Any starting point is good.
Cold spell
It’s been going down to 18 degrees Fahrenheit (-7 degrees Celsius!) which is very cold, and I do not have central heating in my little trailer.
In the late afternoon, I fill jugs and vessels with water, then turn off the water at the pump before it gets dark and send up a little prayer for the pipes not bursting.
In the morning I cook soup to help warm the kitchen while I do my workout, and around noon, I turn the water back on for washing dishes. It’s an inconvenient system, going into camping mode, but it works, or so far it has.
I’m just doing this for a spell, I say. Just for right now. Hoping my way into something easier and better, but also getting better at this, the right here right now of this experience.
Seasonal Protocols
Okay, I actually have a lot to say on this topic, and probably need to save it for next time, so I will just say that right now RITUAL and HOPE are my seasonal protocols, or my general categories. Not just for heartache, but for long COVID, for TBI, for seasonal gloom, for all of it.
Within that, there’s a lot of detail. But I think it’s an interesting question. What are the protocols and support mechanisms for a very cold day, a very dark day, a very high grief levels day, a bad brain day, a day when nothing is working?
Or if you are in the southern hemisphere, maybe you are figuring out protocols for heat and low energy and siesta o’clock!
Where do these protocols live, and what helps us remember what works? This is what I am thinking about these days. Some elements come back easily from past winters; others I rediscover the hard way all over again.
Seasons gleamings, longer days
In a week and a half, we slowly begin to orient towards more sun here; the days will gradually get longer where I am, and, if the gods are willing, I will get to observe this on my morning and evening jog.
Maybe in six weeks time is when I will notice more light, but noticing, like hope, is a practice of perseverence. You show up for the noticing.
I am thinking, as I always do this time of year, how utterly ridiculous it is that this is the time our culture wants us to start thinking about resolutions and new habits, and making big changes, when this is so clearly a time for hibernating, percolating, letting things shift in their own right timing.
And yet, if there is one thing I know a lot about, it’s rewriting patterns and habits, and so I am wondering if that is a thread to follow and write more about. Like maybe part of the practice of hope is returning to the places that make sense to me.
A practice of practicing
One step and then another step.
Doing the thing that helped last time, or doing the opposite of the thing that helped last time.
Guidance guidance. Miracles miracles.
May the next steps reveal themselves, even when the path feels shrouded in darkness. Maybe this is the time for moving slowly and even more slowly than that. Maybe this is the time for striding exuberantly. Maybe this is the time for trying both and feeling into which one is right for the moment.
Maybe it’s the time for imagining our way into a movement, a next step. Letting my breath move me. Trusting the fractal magic. Breathing into my courage heart.
Come play in the comments, I appreciate the company
You are welcome to share anything that sparked for you while reading, anything that helped or clues received, or anything on your mind, wish some wishes, process what’s percolating…
I am lighting a candle for us and our beautiful heart-wishes. What a brave thing it is to allow ourselves to want something better for us and for the world.
Or if there’s anything you’d like to explore further or toss into the wishing pot, the healing power of the collective is no small thing, companionship helps.
Whatever comes to mind or heart. Let’s support each other’s hope-sparks…
Housekeeping note: You can subscribe to posts by email again!
If you aren’t seeing these updates in your in your email and want to, you can can solve that here.
This will pop up a new page on Follow.It that lets you subscribe via email, newsletter, or RSS reader. They say “expect 50 stories a week”, and that’s a very imaginary number, once a week is the dream.
I am emailing copies of the Emergency Calming Techniques package!
Anyone who gives to the Discretionary this week (more info below) will get my Emergency Calming Techniques package by email as a pdf. I am only checking email twice a week because I no longer have wifi at my place, long story, so be patient with me but if it doesn’t show up within the week then let me know!
I have some ideas for the next ebook too but if you do too, shoot me an email or share in the comments.
A request!
If you received clues or perspective or want to send appreciation for the writing and work/play we do here, I appreciate it tremendously.
I am accepting support (with joy & gratitude) in the form of Appreciation Money to the Discretionary Fund. Asking is not where my strength resides but Brave & Stalwart is the theme these days, and pattern-rewriting is the work, it all helps with fixing the many broken things.
And if those aren’t options, I get it, you can light a candle for support (or light one in your mind!), share this with someone who loves words, tell people about these techniques, approaches and themes, send them here, it all helps, it’s all welcome, and I appreciate it and you so much. ❤️
Talk pie-based freedom celebrations to me
Announcement / if you want a copy of Emergency Calm Down Techniques
I have been reeling hard lately in some cursed combination of heartache, numbness, political anxiety, winter stuff and some wild panic episodes.
Have been holding on (for dear life) to my Emergency Calm The Hell Down Techniques from a long time ago, and that’s been helping me.
I am giving away a copy of these (ebook + audio recordings) to anyone who gives any sum of money at all to the appreciation funds / discretionary fund in the hopes that we can all keep practicing together, for each other and for the collective, and also for ourselves in these scary times. ❤️
Talk pie-based freedom celebrations to me, and other wishes
Where we are at this week
Last time I talked about my complex feelings, and unclear or at least conflicting desires that come up around the time of American Thanksgiving, and holidays in general. (I want to be alone! I hate feeling lonely!)
Anyway, I did some processing and free-form journaling about how I can get all tangled up in my stuff about that this time of year, and tried to get a little more clarity on what I do want, and how to remain strong and clear and vibrant within the solitude that just is right now.
So this time, I wanted to do a little review (or a revue, if you prefer) of how last week went, what worked and what didn’t, what I’m learning from these ongoing experiments and maybe wish some new wishes.
What surprised me?
I did not fall apart on either American Thanksgiving or the Eve Of, the two known times when I can get just really messed up.
Instead, just to mix things up this year, I had my big falling apart Tuesday afternoon, and then basically all of Friday when I felt just bereft and overwhelmed with grief and loneliness, so that was unexpected and I guess interesting. Like, okay, it’s not a particularly fun mystery, but it’s a data point!
What worked!
Wednesday I did food prep and cleaning, and a friend who was also doing the holiday alone kept me company by phone, and that was really lovely.
I also downloaded a bunch of podcast episodes while I was at the library, and that was a very good call.
Thursday I did a four hour morning workout, then made green chile stew and roasted grapes in cinnamon, brown sugar, pomegranate vinegar and flaky salt (highly recommend), and had more phone time with my friend who was also in solo holiday mode.
In the afternoon, my friend Cate came to visit, and we went for a lovely hike on forest service land, so I got conversation and hugs and time with trees, all of which are very good for me, a person who lives alone in the middle of nowhere and doesn’t actually need more alone time.
What helped!
I was really astoundingly honest with people in my life about how I was doing on the hard days, which is just so scary and vulnerable, and, also, good to remember: people are kind and understanding about this stuff, because they also know what it’s like to struggle with losses of their own.
On Friday, when I was really struggling, a friend instructed me to go spend fifteen minutes outside wandering and to take photos of something beautiful for him, so I did and yes, it helped.
Other friends sent photos of their adorable dogs, blessings upon the cute dogs and their cute bellies.
People also confirmed for me that all the black Friday energy is really and truly overwhelming. And even though I don’t participate and wasn’t online, there is just a lot of ambient frantic energy in the world around this time, and if you like me are a sensitive flower who gets easily undone by stuff like that, that’s a factor too. Good to remember. Whoosh, goodbye, to that energy that is not mine.
Pie-Based Freedom Celebrations / Freedom-Based Pie Celebrations
I had an interesting conversation with Kristi about last week’s essay; she said she noticed that contemplating anything regarding freedom made her feel wistful, but also, as a pie-lover specifically, she found herself perking up at the idea of multiple slices of pie.
This is a good reminder to me. Often I take all my freedom for granted and forget to celebrate it. The fact that I have no one to celebrate holidays with and no external expectations of what food to make or when to eat it are all in fact forms of freedom regardless of how lonely I feel or do not. That is in fact worthy of celebrating.
Also I just love the idea of a pie-based freedom celebration, or a freedom-based pie celebration, or an anything-based dessert celebration. A feast of liberations.
Wouldn’t it be fun to just hide out and focus on pie. I love the PBFC. It needs a logo and a motto and a tiny personal pie fridge with a magnet on it:
FREEDOM in the PBFC!
What else is known? What else could be known
I am definitely going to need to do more journaling on freedom and finding my way into appreciation for the ways in which I am not bound by convention or by anything, by virtue of my solitude.
What else is known or could be known or discovered/revealed about this festival of freedom? Will this quality become easier to celebrate over time?
Let’s keep investigating the questions. Let’s skip some stones.
What is meaningful?
This week I reflected a lot on my connection with Michael, my wise, creative, loving, warm-hearted chef friend who died this past year, and how much I wanted his wisdom and guidance as I experimented with food this week and felt sad missing him.
Next year I’d like to make something specifically for him, use one of his recipes in my menu, maybe his salsa macha, maybe his green chile lemonade muffins.
Playfulness and Innovation
For me, Playfulness & Innovation are qualities that go together. It’s not just that they complement and enhance each other, although they do. It’s that I think they require each other if that makes sense.
Innovation is most fun and exciting and spark-filled when it feels playful. The playfulness brings a lightheartedness to the work of innovating.
And play on its own can sometimes get a bit lost. In the way that we can tend to stick to or repeat familiar things. But when you add innovation, play really soars.
I don’t know exactly how these qualities, on their own and in combination, are going to connect for me and spark new ideas, but they feel important right now so that’s why I’m bringing them up. Maybe it’s a clue for you too.
Something about: A sign that is not a sign
On my hike with Cate on forest service land, we kept seeing signs that had nothing on them, just blank pieces of wood. The high desert sun had wiped them clean.
I sent a picture of one to my friend Will, the wildlife biologist who works at a wildlife refuge in Washington State, and he laughed. He says that doesn’t happen in the Pacific Northwest; the signs rot before they can be worn blank.
The signs make me laugh. It’s a signpost but it has no instruction. “Hey, you”, it might be saying. “I am a sign.” Or maybe, “You might be going in the right direction, who can say?”
Will it?
I had leftovers this week so I practiced a lot of Will It Waffle and Will It Taco, two fun games to play in the kitchen, if you wish to channel the qualities of playful and/or innovative too…
First I added some homemade chile oil to instant mashed potatoes. I used to be skeptical of instant mashed potatoes, but since my experiences with TBI and Long Covid, I now welcome the availability of a good shortcut.
Do they waffle? They waffle like a charm. Spicy potato waffles make a fantastic breakfast, no notes.
I also waffled the chocolate cinnamon banana bread, and yes, it waffles!
Then I noticed that the green chile stew leftovers had solidified into a mass, so I fried them up, added more instant mashed potato mix and homemade vegan cheese, and turned it into a taco filling. Totally worked.
God I want to tell Michael about this. He would be so happy. But maybe you will be happy with me too.
AWTLAB
Every morning and evening I jog slow figure-eights in my kitchen, and I do this Alone With (my) Thoughts Like A Barbarian (AWTLAB), because I don’t have wifi or a way to distract myself.
But this week a friend pointed out that it’s not just AWTLAB, but: alone with thoughts LIKE A COURAGEOUS BARBARIAN.
I thought about this, about the courage of just letting thoughts move while I move, over this holiday.
Especially given that, as far as I can tell from my friends, everyone I know has been stuck scrolling for like three days straight because the vibes are so bad.
While I don’t have wifi, so am just AWTLAB at all times, but maybe that’s good actually? Not being around the bad vibes and just jogging it out twice a day could be a surprise benefit to being in the deep solitude in the woods.
Reconfiguring
I actually had holiday plans this year, with the person who angrily and suddenly disappeared from my life, and I think I might be glad that didn’t work out, even though it was scary to have no plan.
The holiday got reconfigured, my heart got reconfigured, I am reconfiguring my sense of time and space as I go through this excruciating heart-healing process, and it happened how it happened.
Spending time outdoors was good. Cooking was good. Call A Friend as a lifeline was good. Jogging in the dark with just the light of the space heater was good.
Some of it was deeply intensely miserable. A parade of sparklepoints to me for sticking it out.
The superpowers remain, the superpowers abide
I am calling on/in/up the superpowers that help:
Love, Courage, Strength, Miracles
Asking for Guidance
IT SOLVES ITSELF
A better version / Do-Overs Forever
Luckily, X
Come on in, simple elegant solutions
What if this can be easier than i think
Clear the decks / clear the path to clear the path
Most Courageous Self To The Front / What would my most courageous self do?
How can I make strategizing PLAYFUL & INNOVATIVE?
There is wisdom in the side quests! What if I trust the wisdom in the side quests?!*
*Thanks to Holly for reminding me that side quests hold wisdom!
Bon Courage! Allez! We can do it!
Let’s consult with my Most Courageous Self / more courageous me about what can be done, what can help, how to break down the list of scary steps….
What if 97% of this anxiety turns out to be unnecessary? What if we just let it float away?
Most Courageous Self:
You are tough and scrappy, you have been through way harder situations than this. You know what helps.
You are brave and you try things. You are brave and you let yourself want things. You want better for yourself and the world. This matters. Your bravery matters. Each time it gets easier.
The more you clear space, the more clarity you will have.
The more you use what you have, the more joy you will feel.
The more you get rid of things in your space that are done or [from then], the more harmonious you will feel.
One small step and then the next step. Keep it moving. Rename the steps. You know how to be playful and innovative, so do that.
Have a one minute dance party. Ask for guidance. Quiet your heart and listen. It sounds cheesy, and also: it works. When in doubt, add a splash of lemon juice.
Time for some Very Personal Ads
I have two very big iguanas (that is to say, stuck situations, or things I am scared to look at or deal with) that need to be liberated this month, and I am calling on all possible help, support and miracles for that process, because it is asking me to be braver than I like to be.
I am asking for FORWARD MOVEMENT on both of those, but also surprise support, bravery, focus, loving clarity, compassion for past-me, and for it to somehow solve itself more easily than I could have imagined.
Additionally still asking for simple elegant solutions, miracles, surprise ease, beautiful clarity on the following:
- A working shower, some way somehow, or access to someone else’s
- A simple, easy, creative and affordable solution to the ventilation mysteries in the tiny trailer
- Help installing heat tape on the kitchen pipes before the cold spell hits so I don’t have to go outside and fill water from a pump.
- A good solution to doing laundry so that it doesn’t take up such a disproportionate amount of my limited time and energy
- Can I find my enthusiasm and motivation again? Where did they go? Does that matter? Is there a way to be playful and innovative here too? Or is the answer to remain patient and trust the seeds and the fractal magic? Some combination of all of the above?
- Last week about five different super stuck things just wonderfully solved themselves, I would like more of this please.
What beautiful wishes / what supports these wishes
And: how can I best support these wishes?
I can keep moving, I can keep asking for help and support in the world, I can keep supporting the collective through positive effort and warm thoughts and sharing what I know, I can remember that I am creative, playful and innovative, and try to channel these qualities for my own well-being and for the benefit of the collective.
A solo dance party helps. Going outside helps. Playing WILL IT TACO with leftovers helps. Trust in the process is hard and not fun, and also: One foot in front of the next. One step at a time, one breath at a time. Keeping on.
Some mysteries just take time and faith. Others take small steps, and just keep it moving.
I am going to try to stay attuned to what is needed, and not make any assumptions.
Seeding the seeds with love, patience, intention, care, curiosity and [WILD CARD]
Sometimes with wishes, the important part is naming the wish.
And then just doing a lot of compassionate noticing. It is (or can be) vulnerable and scary to name a wish, to let ourselves want, to have a need and express it.
I am seeding the seed, and adding Love, Patience, Intention, Care, Curiosity and all the WILD CARD qualities, whatever will help. Releasing attachment to outcome, to the best of my ability.
Let’s tend to the seeds and tend to our own hearts, and see how things go. Maybe the next indicated step will be revealed, or maybe these need to percolate for a while. We’ll know when we know.
In the meantime, let’s do whatever helps, one fractal, powerful, symbolic step at a time.
What do I need?
Heart breaths. To tend to my own tenderness. To look outside and appreciate the sunlight dancing on the high desert grasses. To keep jogging in my kitchen ALONE WITH MY THOUGHTS LIKE A BARBARIAN, to get me through this next month of Ever-Darker Ever-Earlier, and trust that the shift the other way is coming, as it always does.
Nothing is wrong. Lighting a candle for whatever helps, and so that we can remember that we are not alone. Love and appreciation to everyone who reads.
Come play in the comments, I appreciate the company
You are welcome to share anything that sparked for you while reading, anything that helped or clues received, or anything on your mind, wish some wishes, process what’s percolating…
I am lighting a candle for us and our beautiful heart-wishes. What a brave thing it is to allow ourselves to want something better for us and for the world.
Or if there’s anything you’d like to explore further or toss into the wishing pot, the healing power of the collective is no small thing, companionship helps.
Whatever comes to mind or heart. Let’s support each other’s hope-sparks…
Housekeeping note: You can subscribe to posts by email again!
If you aren’t seeing these updates in your in your email and want to, you can can solve that here.
This will pop up a new page on Follow.It that lets you subscribe via email, newsletter, or RSS reader. They say “expect 50 stories a week”, and that’s a very imaginary number, once a week is the dream.
I am emailing copies of the Emergency Calming Techniques package!
Anyone who gives to the Discretionary this week (more info below) will get my Emergency Calming Techniques package by email as a pdf. I am only checking email twice a week because I no longer have wifi at my place, long story, so be patient with me but if it doesn’t show up within the week then let me know!
I have some ideas for the next ebook too but if you do too, shoot me an email or share in the comments.
A request!
If you received clues or perspective or want to send appreciation for the writing and work/play we do here, I appreciate it tremendously.
I am accepting support (with joy & gratitude) in the form of Appreciation Money to the Discretionary Fund. Asking is not where my strength resides but Brave & Stalwart is the theme these days, and pattern-rewriting is the work, it all helps with fixing the many broken things.
And if those aren’t options, I get it, you can light a candle for support (or light one in your mind!), share this with someone who loves words, tell people about these techniques, approaches and themes, send them here, it all helps, it’s all welcome, and I appreciate it and you so much. ❤️
Meanwhile back at the Test Kitchen / a renewed understanding
Announcement / if you want a copy of Emergency Calm Down Techniques
I have been reeling hard lately in some cursed combination of heartache, numbness, political anxiety, winter stuff and some wild panic episodes.
Have been holding on (for dear life) to my Emergency Calm The Hell Down Techniques from a long time ago, and that’s been helping me.
I am giving away a copy of these (ebook + audio recordings) to anyone who gives any sum of money at all to the appreciation funds / discretionary fund in the hopes that we can all keep practicing together, for each other and for the collective, and also for ourselves in these scary times. ❤️
A renewed understanding
Something about dread
As always this time of year, I am working through my dread around American Thanksgiving, a holiday I don’t participate in but, for reasons that are not entirely clear to me, I also experience agonizing levels of loneliness and melancholy around the day, and really the entire week.
I guess the part that is mysterious to me is that even though on the one hand, this day is associated with despair and loneliness and isolation for me, reality remains that I don’t actually wish to be invited anywhere.
And, let’s be honest, even if I didn’t have to protect my fragile immune system, I still wouldn’t go anywhere.
So what do I want? And what’s missing?
A related inquiry: What am I upset about and how come it hurts so much…? Let’s investigate…
I know the kind of day I want and I am the only one who can make that happen for me
The truth is, I like eating exactly what appeals to me, at exactly the time I feel ready for it.
I appreciate not having to make small talk, I like not dreading arguments or intrusive questions.
Most of all, I enjoy knowing I don’t have to participate in any of the adjacent stress and nonsense around American Thanksgiving. And here I’m referring both to the history and backstory of the holiday, as well as the high tension levels present at most family gatherings.
And yet, there it is. The week of the holiday arrives and I am in a big mood, one that is composed of 90% loneliness and 10% if someone doesn’t hug me right now I will perish.
Which I guess is also loneliness, just a more specific flavor.
Last year
Last year my wonderful friend Michael kept me good company by text throughout the fall, as a sounding board for talking through menu plans for the ZFTK – the Zero Fucksgiving Test Kitchen.
Yes, I made up my own holiday, and yes, it has a test kitchen, because the joy of a feast day is trying new things.
Sometimes. At other times the joy of a feast day is having the exact usual thing.
Anyway, Michael died this year, and I miss him so fucking much. I want to talk to him about green chile stew, I want to talk to him about everything.
Last year, again
Last year, despite my six weeks or so of dreaming and strategizing recipes, which was a very fun process and kept my mind occupied, I ended up just having tater tots (because I was too depressed to cook), and that was okay actually.
More than okay. It was perfect.
Not the depression part, but the tater tots. It was the just-right answer to the day.
Michael was happy for me too, because I found something that worked, and sometimes that’s the thing that matters most.
Ah yes, the true meaning of the holiday
I realized that of course I had yet again forgotten the true meaning of No Fucksgiving, which is giving myself permission to not care too much.
That is to say, it is not actually about having the fanciest feast or the most feast-worthy feast, or the cleanest kitchen etc.
Even though yes, for sure, I do crave those things at some level, not only because of cultural stuff, but because I want the day to feel festive so that I feel less sad(?).
But none of that stuff matters. It is a holiday about DO LESS and PILE ON COMFORTS and get through it some way somehow. Find the small joys and do what is possible and attainable.
Use what is known / Start from what is known
This is a known day (for me) when I feel irritable, lonely, grumpy, isolated, sad, anxious and miserable, and having to make a feast day of it honestly just adds more shoulds.
And it turned out to be a good day for tater tots with spicy tahini sauce, and a fried egg.
That’s what worked last year, and now I need to find out what will work this year, given what is in my pantry and how much energy I have, and the many factors.
I said it and I meant it
As I wrote in my notes last year: “Fuck baking, fuck everything, this is a good day for eating vegan marshmallows out of the bag like god intended.”
It was also a good day for doing some cathartic screaming, and luckily I live alone in the middle of nowhere and can do that.
I like baking, so obviously I didn’t really mean what I said. And I love trying new recipes. But also, point taken. A hard day is a hard day, and you do what you can.
This is a known hard time, and sometimes the best way to tend to a known hard time is with known comfort rituals. Do less to get more. Add ease.
Or: add ease where you can.
Dancing in your underwear, if you want, for example
This is from the excellent Alexis Reliford, from last year:
”The best part of spending Thanksgiving alone is the freedom it gives me. There’s no need to meet others’ expectations or follow traditional norms. Or eat food prepared by others with questionable (or non-existent) cooking skills. I get to do exactly what I want. Even if that is eating multiple slices of pie while dancing around in my underwear.”
I agree with Alexis.
Your own version of that will look how it looks
There will be no eating pie in my underwear at my place if only because it’s way too cold here in late November to be wearing fewer than three to five layers at any given time, and also there won’t be pie.
But maybe chocolate banana bread for breakfast while wearing fleece-lined leggings? That sounds both reasonable and likely.
Trying times (both meanings)
I’ve been in the reeling times of heartbreak and despair, and have no appetite. It has been really hard to get myself to eat, but I’m trying, and I have an ongoing list of things that seem to work, so have mostly been sticking to those.
These are trying times, in the sense that they feel like one big test that I am at best muddling my way through, and also trying times in the sense of JUST TRY THINGS, and WHATEVER WORKS, and ANY PORT IN A STORM.
A time for trying. And trying can also mean experimenting.
Though it can also mean try the thing that worked last time, or do a little of the thing that helps, even if it only helps a little.
Not FOMO but something else
I was trying to explain to a friend who does not have any of these issues the way I tend to go into crisis mode around this holiday, and how my mood tanks and anxiety spikes, and I don’t want to be alone, but I don’t want to go spend the holiday with someone.
It’s like, I want to be on my own, in the sense of out on my own, doing my own thing, on the margins of the holiday, but also I want someone to come and visit and hug me and tell me that everything will be okay, and I don’t have anyone in that category.
He asked if it’s like FOMO, and I don’t think it is.
I don’t mind missing out on the celebrations and festivities, it’s just like a very time-specific enhanced sense of isolation and despair. I guess I want company out on the margins. Not sure if I can explain it better than that.
The monster chorus, again
The chorus of monsters in my head, who are very good at spinning theories of self-criticism, make what seem on the surface to be a very valid argument: this entire thing is childish and silly.
Their argument, to which I have no counter-argument, is that it is silly and embarrassing to not want to join in something and then feel lonely about that, and even sillier and more embarrassing to whine about it in public, which is what I’m doing here, according to them.
I guess my only counter is that what we practice here is Acknowledgment & Legitimacy, as well as paying attention to our relationship with time, and with the calendar, and if this is a hard time for me, then that’s my current reality.
And what can I do other than meet that current experience with compassion.
Meeting the current experience with compassion
It’s okay if I don’t know the reasons or don’t remember them or can’t name them, or can’t make sense of the mystery.
Here we are, in the week/month/season of The Big Loneliness, and we are trying things.
It’s a courageous heart that keeps trying.
SOS day, also multiple meanings
My phone, which was only barely functioning anyway, gave up on the way back from Michigan, and I got a miracle new phone, which I am very grateful for.
Lately there are days when it goes into SOS only mode. People say it must be trouble with the cell towers, but I have been on the same towers for nearly four years and never had even an hour of my phone being in SOS only mode, never mind entire days. And since I got the new phone, for about two days a week, I can’t use it for most of the day or at all.
I would research this if my phone was working. And if you have ideas please let me know — unless the idea is turning the phone off and turning it on again because I already tried that one for good luck. 😉
SOS days feel extra lonely, because I can’t text friends, and so these days do feel like a crying out for help that no one can hear.
Always good to have a list
I keep a list for these SOS times which is just anything I can do that helps me get through a day when I don’t have any connection with the outside world. It helps more often than it doesn’t.
There is a list of things that help on laundry day and a list of things that help when I go to the library.
And an SOS list for SOS days.
And a list of past rituals and recipes and experiments for Zero Fucksgiving, formerly known as Hermitsgiving.
Reviewing my notes from last year
One of my notes is just a reminder that it varies, some years I get through it okay and some years it is very This Too Shall Pass and kind of just passing time.
According to my notes from last year, the day of the holiday itself wasn’t too bad at all, but Wednesday night was agonizing and I had a huge breakdown.
Here’s what I know helps for me: jogging in my kitchen, writing about my feelings or skipping stones, remembering that there is always some treasure in a breakdown even though it never feels like it at the time.
Naming what is potentially good, useful, or reassuring about existing outside of the broader culture. Naming practices that I find supportive, and doing any of them.
Never a bad idea to have a solo dance party.
What wisdom is available from Slightly Wiser Me?
I consulted with the Cowboy of the Bunkhouse, the version of me who likes living alone and doing chores.
They like to clean the countertops and re-organize a drawer. They like a quiet day of puttering. They don’t even mind the wild winds or not knowing the temperature. They like to do a hair rinse with warm tea.
Me: Please advise, Cowboy of the Bunkhouse, I’m super anxious about this combination of loneliness, heartache, the worst time of the year, obviously all the political everything, give me some counsel.
Cowboy of the Bunkhouse: A nice thing about making a stew is it takes a few hours. It will heat up the trailer nicely, and it will smell delicious.
Remember that recipe for oven-roasted grapes that made you laugh out loud because it was written in such a fun tone? Roast some grapes. Just a handful. Take a picture of your festive table. Use the good placemats.
Your day, on your terms. It’s special, because you make things special. Shift the atmosphere. Hum a favorite song. Sing a sea shantey.
Yes, it is a bit like being alone on an island. Alone doesn’t mean stranded though even if it feels like it right now. List what you like about the island. Write a wish for next year.
Wishing the wishes
Feels like it’s time to bring back Very Personal Ads, and also the list of Things That Don’t Completely Suck, aka a very tentative gratitude practice that is not-forced, not a should, not an expectation, just a naming.
There are so many people I miss, and pain in my heart. And I know it is a wonder to have known so many special people who meant and mean so much to me.
Thank you, beautiful view. Thank you, time and space to write words and share them. Thank you, everyone who reads.
We can keep each other company too
If you also feel [feelings] this time of year, we can have a little long distance club of Hermitsgiving friends, making space for the feelings, holding community symbolically. We can write wishes for a better world, and a better culture, and light candles, whether real or imaginary.
We can focus on our own internal culture that holds the qualities we want to glow into the world. Will that help? I don’t know.
Like I said, it’s trying times out here, and are also a time for trying something, anything.
Love to you!
Let me add that if you love this holiday then I wish you a joyful festive celebration of only good things.
And if you are celebrating with difficult people or in difficult circumstances then I wish you strength and courage and good self-protection mechanisms.
And if you live outside of the United States and are sick of us talking about this holiday, that’s very relatable too. Waving from here.
Feeling lots of love and appreciation to everyone who reads. Thank you. A breath in my thank-you heart for you.
Come play in the comments, I appreciate the company
You are welcome to share anything that sparked for you while reading, anything that helped or clues received, or anything on your mind, wish some wishes, process what’s percolating…
I am lighting a candle for us and our beautiful heart-wishes. What a brave thing it is to allow ourselves to want something better for us and for the world.
Or if there’s anything you’d like to explore further or toss into the wishing pot, the healing power of the collective is no small thing, companionship helps.
Whatever comes to mind or heart. Let’s support each other’s hope-sparks…
Housekeeping note: You can subscribe to posts by email again!
If you aren’t seeing these updates in your in your email and want to, you can can solve that here.
This will pop up a new page on Follow.It that lets you subscribe via email, newsletter, or RSS reader. They say “expect 50 stories a week”, and that’s a very imaginary number, once a week is the dream.
I am emailing copies of the Emergency Calming Techniques package!
Anyone who gives to the Discretionary this week (more info below) will get my Emergency Calming Techniques package by email as a pdf. I am only checking email twice a week because I no longer have wifi at my place, long story, so be patient with me but if it doesn’t show up within the week then let me know!
I have some ideas for the next ebook too but if you do too, shoot me an email or share in the comments.
A request!
If you received clues or perspective or want to send appreciation for the writing and work/play we do here, I appreciate it tremendously. Between Long Covid and traumatic brain injury recovery, things are slow going.
I am accepting support (with joy & gratitude) in the form of Appreciation Money to the Discretionary Fund. Asking is not where my strength resides but Brave & Stalwart is the theme these days, and pattern-rewriting is the work, it all helps with fixing the many broken things.
And if those aren’t options, I get it, you can light a candle for support (or light one in your mind!), share this with someone who loves words, tell people about these techniques, approaches and themes, send them here, it all helps, it’s all welcome, and I appreciate it and you so much. ❤️
Words for the reeling times
Preface
I have been reeling hard, deep in the reeling places, and wrote this piece to explores some of that, in between many panic episodes.
Something I have been holding on to for dear life, in addition to the concepts mentioned here today, are my Emergency Calming Techniques from, good lord, all the way back in 2008? 2009?, a long time ago, and that’s been helping me through.
So, I will be giving away a copy of these (ebook + audio recordings) to anyone who gives any sum of money at all to the appreciation funds / discretionary fund.
If you already have a copy then you can give it to someone else, or give it another listen. The more we practice, the better. For each other and for the collective, and also for ourselves in these scary times.
Okay, onward, let’s breathe and figure out what we do in the reeling times when we are reeling or it feels like everything around us is reeling.
Words for the reeling times / words for these reeling times
The pre-reeling, if that’s a thing (it is now I guess)
To be honest, I was already reeling pretty impressively, shaken and stirred if you will, but not in a good way. Not having fun. Unmoored.
I was reeling initially from the U.S. presidential election, not so much from the results themselves which did not surprise me particularly, but from having to interact with the brutal reality of knowing for sure.
Knowing and seeing the devastating effects that are to come.
From knowing all the ways that I and people I love can be harmed. An overdose of cruel clarity.
Friday
The text was what shattered me. It’s another unsolvable mystery of the many unsolvable mysteries but here is the core of it:
Someone I cherish and care for tremendously and think about lovingly every single day wrote to say that they no longer cherish or care for me in that way or at all really.
And that something had happened to cause this change but they weren’t going to say what it was. They are just done, for reasons.
The unknown unknown
It was less elegant and more baffling and hurtful than that, but that was the gist of it.
I don’t have more information or a way to shed light on any of it because there is no more information they want to share, and any guess I could try to make only leaves me more confused and distraught.
Whatever I did or said or something-ed, I am incredibly sorry about it, and also I wonder if the whole thing surely must be some kind of terrible misunderstanding that could be resolved lovingly through talking about it? Like people who treasure each other do?
Except it can’t, because there isn’t any information and there is no mechanism for talking it out.
The void of not knowing, the void of nothing to be known
I will also say that, in retrospect, my initial attempts to confusingly but whole-heartedly make amends for any possible possibilities were just a very apt live demonstration of the [denial and bargaining] phases of grief in action.
Anyway, my heart hurts.
This is an understatement. I feel completely wrecked. Shattered and adrift. Reeling in the mystery.
Double and multiple multiplied meanings, bless them
The more I thought about how I am reeling, in the sense of spinning, in the sense of gravitational force has no meaning, I have lost contact with the earth, just bouncing around aimlessly in grief space…
It also occurred to me that [reeling in] is what you do with a fishing line.
I am reeling in the mystery = [I AM REELING] and this experience of ungrounded reeling is taking place within the great mystery of what cannot be known or understood.
And, also, I am reeling in the mystery = Here I am with my fishing pole, pulling the mystery towards me, even as it remains unknowable. I keep reeling it in, I keep reeling in the mystery.
The Reel Reel
A reel is also a filmstrip.
A reel is also a dance?
Reeling through an alternate reality, now I don’t know what is real anymore. (That’s why I’m reeling.)
It is unreal. An unreal reeling. Like a Sufi dance but in the chaos of collapsing, not the powerful whirling. In between falling and falling, there must be some kind of rhythm, but I haven’t found it.
Heart pain, again
Picture a whole heart, Cate suggested, when I said that I feel broken and shattered.
I thought about a whole heart, and my smaller shard-filled heart swimming inside the whole heart space.
Still reeling, still feeling, alive. Fucking miserable, but alive.
It didn’t help, but that is often the way of things that help, they don’t help until they do.
What is a fountain? What is a faucet?
I thought the sweetness and adoration this person and I had for each other were foundational, like a deep fountain, or a powerful waterfall that flows in all seasons.
And it turned out that for this person, these qualities could be simply turned off like a faucet, with a small movement of the wrist. Click.
My heart does not click on and off. My heart loves big and loves hard, and then sometimes it reels.
Wise words, wise self, wisdom from someone smarter (future me)
This is not exactly a mantra, I don’t think that’s right, but this is what Slightly Wiser Me, my personal internal crisis center, keeps repeating, every time I ask for wise counsel and support:
It’s gonna keep hurting until it stops hurting (or hurts less), but get this…
It’s gonna keep hurting until it stops hurting (or hurts less), but it’s not going to hurt the way it does right now.
You take one step and then another step.
You take one step and then another step
The pain will ebb. And then it will return but not as strong. And then it will ebb again. Sometimes it will blindside you. But mostly it will lessen and ease up. It is not going to keep hurting like this.
Sure, right now it is. You will reel until you are done reeling. Make it a dance.
Not funny yet, but also, not not-funny
One day this will be another boring mystery in the tales of boring mysteries, or even a funny story — bittersweet but still somehow funny.
Even now it’s a little bit funny, even as it is a devastation. Do I appreciate the humor? Oh, not at all. But I can’t pretend it’s not in there somewhere.
Even as I can’t sleep because I am having all night panic episodes, I can’t disagree with Slightly Wiser Me that there is also something oddly comical in how it happened, even given how terrible and destabilizing it all is.
The museum (imaginary, but also, imagine it!)
If you can imagine a museum solely devoted to the worst breakup texts of all time…
I am picturing long corridors filled with assorted horrors, a collection of devastation. These can be romantic breakups or friendship breakups or work breakups, pretty sure they all hurt in similar ways.
People gasp as they move from exhibit to exhibit. There are boxes of tissues available if you anything is too relatable.
That’s fine, it’s not a bad museum, however I’m going to need them to build a special wing devoted entirely to this particular text that began with “love a four day work week lol”.
Visitors to the museum will employ the skills of talmudic scholars trying to parse that one, but also they will laugh.
Shot from a cannon
When I am shattered, I read Etgar Keret, and also when I am not shattered.
This week he fortuitously wrote about being shot from a cannon, as a much better and more accurate metaphor for the writing process than giving birth.
It is also an apt metaphor for so many forms of heartbreak:
I am not ready for this, I am fully unprepared, I don’t enjoy the process of being smashed and shattered, god the pain it is so agonizing.
And also, I will, realistically, let’s be honest here, I will absolutely get back in the cannon.
Because
I don’t know.
Because I love to love people, and I love to be a person who loves, and because I am curious about what will happen.
And because flying is very intense. And because I’m not going to be able to resist.
Not just bravery in the face of awful things but sure let’s go another round
I mean, I hate being brave.
And right now, just functioning at a basic level while reeling is requiring a lot of courage that I do not have.
And yet, I would do it again.
Clearing the decks
Each day I get rid of a few things.
It’s a fractal practice. Emptying to empty. Clearing the path to clear the path.
Making room for something, whatever it might be. Not this.
Any port of focus in a storm.
The on-ramp and the off-ramp (RAMP!)
A friend likes to talk about Radical Acceptance of this Moment Present, as the on-ramp and the off-ramp.
The moment that is happening is the moment that is. It sucks, I don’t have to like it, and also I do have to turn the page and be here, because this is the current reality.
Radical acceptance of the present moment, even a very shitty present moment, is not about giving up or giving in, it’s about consciously and intentionally not fighting with what-is.
And then sometimes you can also see little glimpses of beauty in the what-is. Or you can see yourself raging against the what-is, and radically accept that
My heart hurts terribly, I am radically accepting this moment present, I am exhausted from not sleeping, radically accepting this moment present, wishing things were different and radically accepting that they are not, here we are, this moment present. Take the ramp.
The peregrination of the heart
I can’t sleep because all I can think about is how everything is other than how I thought it was, and so I jog in my kitchen from 5-6am and wait for the sun to come up.
Little peripatetic figure-eights, a journey that is both large and small.
For the final ten minutes I jog backwards. Jostling and moving.
Movement is the way I process pain, but also the way I process everything.
Clear-eyed
If you don’t already read Sarah Weinman’s excellent newsletter The Crime Lady, I recommend it.
She said something great last week, it was in the context of the election but it could be about anything:
I’d rather be clear-eyed than in denial.
I’d rather be clear-eyed, ideally with some Loving Clarity, but either way let me stay clear, than retreat into denial.
Denial is where I am fighting with the moment present instead of accepting it, denial is where I want to burn down the special wing in the imaginary museum, where I want to right things that cannot be righted, or at least not now and not by me.
Building from ruins
This was another great quote I’d saved last week, before the great unraveling that sent me into reeling mode.
It’s about chronic illness and very relatable to me, as someone who has better and worse days with Long Covid, but people around me are seemingly always somehow still surprised by the rough days, maybe because I can sometimes hide them…
Recovery stories will very often claim that a shift in mindset, or an increase in activity levels, was critical. But the silent story for most of us is that we “decided to get better” but couldn’t; started doing a little more each day but had a relapse; tried yet another treatment and found it wanting; and then, having lost everything, built the best life we could from the ruins.”
You can read the rest here, the piece is called The Trouble With Recovery Stories.
Reeling my way through what was ruined
Obviously heart-healing is a different animal (animal? that feels wrong, a different continent!) than chronic illness in many if not most ways.
And also it is still an experience of slow rebuilding, and, this is critical: you are not rebuilding what was, because what was is gone.
Radically accepting that is really not fun, though it is useful in the moments that it feels possible.
You are building something new from the rubble, and maybe you are the only one who can find the beauty there right now, and maybe sometimes you can’t find it either, and you still keep going.
Brave and stalwart, reeling our way through this new territory, learning its outlines.
When crushed, break glass
I have been making lists of what helps.
Some of it is wise words from wise friends or wise people I admire, or Slightly Wiser Me.
Some of it is things that help, small challenges, making tea, rolling on the floor, getting out into the sunshine for a minute.
Checking tiny things off the list. Renaming items on the list to be funny or ridiculous, and also keeping the items very, very small helps me the most! Mainly: progress towards anything.
Learning a word or phrase in another language and enjoying it.
It’s all brave and it all counts.
Listen to the Cowboy of Chore Hour
The Cowboy of Chore Hour is another wise self, an aspect of me, and this is what they had to say:
Something better will come when it comes, either way you are tough, powerful, a force to be reckoned with. I admire you.
I admire that you are someone who shows up to meet a hard situation with love, and you thought this other person was too, and it turns out they are someone who walks, and maybe that’s for the best and maybe it isn’t, but it doesn’t matter because now you know.
Now you have that information and it matters that you got it now instead of down the road. An unlikely blessing.
This is a temporary reel, says the Cowboy of Chore Hour
Right now is the worst it’s gonna hurt.
It will come in waves and do its thing like heartache does, but this is the worst part, when you are in the reeling part, you will reel, and then it will pass.
THIS IS A TEMPORARY REEL, this is the reeling time. It sucks, it is hard and painful and it will pass.
You deserve big wonderful love in all your relationships and friendships, a love that shows up for you and holds you and doesn’t drop you; I am so sorry that this wasn’t it, and also I’m glad you are getting this information fast rather than slowly over time.
Please trust the path and stay in your strength. Treasure the good parts of your life in the wilds, and keep doing the things that work, the things that help, doing your writing and cooking and training, building and rebuilding your world.
What is the wish?
Wishing for heart-healing, wishing for merciful compassion to accompany the loving-clarity, wishing for common good and for any solutions revealing themselves beautifully and swiftly.
Wishing for a sense of humor to hold me through the reeling. Wishing for kind perspective. Wishing for patience. Wishing for new good surprises. Wishing for the [it’s all for the best] to reveal itself, wishing for help and good companionship for the rebuilding.
Wishing for the courage to exist and keep existing while feeling so adjacent to the void; to remember that I can be both the one who is reeling and the one who holds a field of love in which the reeling can reel itself out.
What would that be like?
Reeling in the mystery as a superpower rather than a devastation. What would that be like?
What would that be like? I can’t wait to find out.
Come play in the comments, I appreciate the company
You are welcome to share anything that sparked for you while reading, anything that helped or anything on your mind, wish some wishes, process what’s percolating…
I am lighting a candle for us and our beautiful heart-wishes. What a brave thing it is to allow ourselves to want something better for us and for the world.
Or if there’s anything you’d like to toss into the wishing pot, the healing power of the collective is no small thing, companionship helps.
Whatever comes to mind or heart. Let’s support each other’s hope-sparks…
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I am emailing copies of the Emergency Calming Techniques package!
Anyone who gives to the Discretionary this week (more info below) will get my Emergency Calming Techniques package by email as a pdf. I am only checking email twice a week because I no longer have wifi at my place, long story, so be patient with me but if it doesn’t show up within the week then let me know!
I have some ideas for the next ebook too but if you do too, shoot me an email or share in the comments.
A request!
If you received clues or perspective or want to send appreciation for the writing and work/play we do here, I appreciate it tremendously. Between Long Covid and traumatic brain injury recovery, things are slow going.
I am accepting support (with joy & gratitude) in the form of Appreciation Money to the Discretionary Fund. Asking is not where my strength resides but Brave & Stalwart is the theme these days, and pattern-rewriting is the work, it all helps with fixing the many broken things.
And if those aren’t options, I get it, you can light a candle for support (or light one in your mind!), share this with someone who loves words, tell people about these techniques, approaches and themes, send them here, it all helps, it’s all welcome, and I appreciate it and you so much. ❤️