Friday chicken

Reflecting on both the hard and the good in the week that was…

Hello, week: we are here.

{a breath for being here when we get here}

This is where we chicken.

Or check-in, if you prefer to enunciate.

Thank you, week! Or maybe not. Or as close as I can get to that.

Some weeks are harder to say thank you to.

Some weeks, I just want to wrap up the week in a shroud and drop it into the middle of the ocean, and cry.

Some weeks I don’t have the thank you in me, but you know what? We have been doing this for four hundred and twenty one weeks in a row now, and either I will find-or-remember the good in this week (of which I am sure there was plenty, I am just not in the mindset for it), or something else will happen.

That is what the space of ritual is for: experiencing what is. And sometimes [what is] is not the most fun. Zeh ma yesh, as we say in hebrew. That’s what we’ve got. Also known as baby that’s how it is right now.

What’s been working?

Many things. Deleting most of the contacts from my phone — everyone who doesn’t make me smile from ear to ear with delight upon seeing their name has to go.

Renaming everyone else so that their name matches how I think of them: Va is a badass. Laura is a sailor. Dar hunts for treasure. Audrey photographs rodeos. Agent Spalding: favorite robot.

I might try…

I don’t know what to try right now. I think that is because I didn’t leave town when I needed to leave town, and then it was too late to solve the mysteries because I was in them. I am going to try leaving town.

Naming the days.

I name each day the night before and I love how names change things and also how they become incantations.

This was the week of new adventures await and these were the days.

Ready to glow clarity. Let there be lightness. Il dolce far niente aka the sweetness of doing nothing. Effortless visible movement. Palace in progress. Star power. The star is here.

Upcoming biopic if it were based on this week…

Time to put my house in order.

If you feel drawn to comment on aspects of my week, I will take love, hearts, breaths, pebbles — I do not need advice or cheering up, though presence and sweetness are always welcome

8 breaths for the hard, challenging and mysterious.

  1. The mystery of 103 degrees fahrenheit (39.5 celsius), which is also the mystery of it is no longer sustainable or even possible to do any of the things that I need to do in order to be moderately functional. A breath.
  2. The mystery of how are we not all marching in the streets about climate change? I mean, obviously because it is way too hot to march. This week my heart ached about all the many things in the world that are not okay, the situations, the injustices, the terror, and how we act as if they are normal, and then they become normal. A breath of hope, please.
  3. Related to the above, the mystery of Portland is full of homeless people and my heart aches for this and for how is anyone going to make it through this heat, or through any of this, and what does it mean for me to be in a place that constantly reminds me of the worst thing that happened to me? I mean, if, god forbid, I had been attacked by a shark, would it make sense to live in a place that required me to swim past shark reefs multiple every day? That is not the right metaphor, because it’s more like I had to be a shark once, but I also had to pass as a dolphin while I was a shark, which was scary and exhausting, and now I am, let’s say, a mermaid with some painful memories, and I want to give back to sharks and to dolphins because I know what it is like, but/and I also do not ever want to swim in the same waters that I swam in before, or even be reminded of what it is like to be in that environment. I am not explaining this well at all. Who is the me who says NO THIS IS NOT GOOD FOR ME, I will make new choices and make sure I can float somewhere safe and beautiful, to heal without these daily reminders of Then. Breathing for light and safe passage.
  4. The mystery of the perfect storm of premenstrual hating-everything, combined with severe sleep deficit because of [loud circumstances beyond my control], combined with the cowboy performing his patented maneuver of pulling the rug out from under my feet and then immediately disappearing into some magical place where there’s no cell service so we can’t talk about what just happened, and somehow this takes me by surprise every single time, even though this has happens so often that I should be able to just put it on the calendar at this point. And then I get lost in the way deep past and my history of rugs and not trusting the ground, and I get mad at myself for falling for this shit, in addition to feeling hurt and sad and pulled into stories and stew-stirring and misunderstanding. A breath for loving myself unconditionally, because here I am in all my pain and fear, and I am the adult now who can give tiny-me all the hugs and reassurance in the world.
  5. The mystery of the three week migraine from hell, which is not actually a mystery at all, since I know exactly what is causing it and what to do about this situation, but it involves cutting ties and pissing some people off, and this requires being brave, and I think that requires more sleep so I can do this from a calm, rested, state of in-my-power-and-grace. A breath for this.
  6. The mystery of how intensely I loathe the basement studio that I have been working on making since January, and how it is not working at all as practice space, or as any kind of space, and I cannot put any more time or money into this mystery. And the mystery of where is my sanctuary if not here, in addition to the ongoing mystery of where will my new home be, well, it’s just too many mysteries, and I am out of things to try, and I thought I had found a beautiful temporary sanctuary for September but now that’s in the category of “who knows, we’ll see”. A breath for whatever is opened for me through saying no to all the no-things now. And, as I said last week, a breath for all the right solutions — speedy, easy, inexpensive solutions, may they reveal themselves soon.
  7. I miss my mom. I miss the beautiful cowboy. I miss the sea. I miss the red hills. I miss sunset in the desert. Intense heartache. A breath for whatever this is.
  8. Inhale, exhale. May all misunderstandings and distortions, internal and external, dissolve in love if not in laughter. May peacefulness prevail. Trust-more love-more release-more receive-more. Goodbye (and thank you), mysteries and hard moments of this week.

8 breaths for the good, reassuring, delight-filled.

  1. I said this last week and it is still true now: many beautiful things happened this week which proved that now is in fact nothing like then, and All Is Well, it just is, even when I forget this. And even if right now I cannot remember the beautiful things because I am in shock from the past twenty four hours, that doesn’t negate their beauty or the fact that they happened. I can remember that they happened even if temporarily unable to conjure their memory. I remember that this week included so much good, and it doesn’t stop being good just because I reflect on the week in a moment of hard. A breath of sweetness and presence.
  2. I am very, very clear on what I don’t want. Also on what I do want. Maybe I have not fully appreciated how much treasure in this, but it is actually a wonderful thing. A breath for this steady knowing and powerful certainty.
  3. While in my anger about [various things], I remembered what Karla says about how anger is a messenger that tells you a boundary has been crossed and needs to be restored. I said THANK YOU, MESSENGER over and over. I restored some boundaries. I stopped trying to fight AT&T and switched to a different phone company. And I exited situations and locations that asked me to exit them. A breath for remembering my crown.
  4. Another repeat from last week but still true and still amazing. The stone skipping not-a-course is full of wise, compassionate people saying wise, compassionate things, and so many sparks of good are sparking everywhere, and we are having the best insights and exploring things we never would have found without everyone else doing the work too. I am feeling so proud and joyful about all the self-fluency happening there. A breath of appreciation.
  5. Float tank is big wild magic for me. It is where I remember what it is like to be a star. A breath of thankfulness.
  6. A weekend of intense posture training — Gokhale! All day!— was very intense and brought up a lot of stuff, but it was so good for me. New and important things integrating in my body and life. I’m doing the work and it is hard (right now, for me), and it is worth it. Good for me. I can appreciate how hard it is, and also how valuable it is. A breath of gratitude for this.
  7. We send out the YEARbook! I read it three times. It is full of treasure. A breath of glad heart.
  8. Thankfulness. Treasure in the form of the most incredible clues, the best salad I’ve eaten in my life, my mother’s favorite song playing, all-night hypnosis, dreaming up yeses with the beautiful far-away cowboy. What else? Oh right, I went dancing after a long time avoiding a dance, and I went in like a queen, and had so much fun! And had two fantastic lessons with my teacher who came to the coast to work with me. See? I knew good things happened. Maybe later I will remember more. In the meantime: Everything is okay and so much is good. Nothing is wrong, even when I want to believe it is. Now is not then. All Timing Is Right Timing. Thank you for this grand adventure. A full breath of deep appreciation in my thank-you heart.

Superpowers I had this week…

Last week I asked for the powers of Let There Be Lightness, and I had this in the form of floating and in the form of posture adjustments that allow me to carry myself with much more ease.

And I had the incredible-to-me power of asking the loud guy using the three-hour-bus-to-the-coast as his office to get off his phone, and he apologized and shut up. Actually, this week was full of people apologizing to me for things that are worthy of apologies, so maybe that was my superpower too.

Powers I want.

I would like more layers of Let There Be Lightness, in the form of energy lightness and emotional lightness and more ease of releasing. And the power of Feet On The Ground.

And I would like a mute button. Which is funny.

The Salve of Practice Secretly Pays Off, As Does Not-Practice.

These invisible salves are distributed here by way of internet magic. Help yourself! Take it in a bath, as tea, a cocktail, whatever works for you. Not only is there enough salve, there are also enough ways to receive it.

This weekend I repeated the foundation course in the posture training I took two months ago, and was astonished to discover that things in the category of [I don’t get how to do this and I have not practiced it because I was practicing other things instead] just worked themselves out so easily. And now I can do all these things that were impossible two months ago.

This is the salve of that. It is filled with permission and sparkle. It opens your eyes and heart to see and appreciate all that is, and all that has changed, and all your hard work, and how your work (and your rest!) in totally different areas is changing everything.

This is a fractal flower salve, and it is big magic.

This salve brings the lightness and also lets things happen through-and-by lightness.

Side effects include not being impressed by anyone’s monsters, including your own.

Playing live at the meme beach house — the Fake Band of the Week!

My brother and I make up bands, which are all just one guy. The Meme Beach House is the venue.

just-one-guy

This week’s band is from Agent Sloan:

No Fake Babies

Their latest album is Ugh The Patriarchy But Also Fireflies, and this band is just one guy.

Photo taken just for us in Lubbock, TX by Jesse — thank you!

Announcement time….

My week may have been not the most fun, but at least I didn’t take anything my monsters said to heart at all, and that’s a useful skill. Highly recommended. You can buy the monster manual which is available here, and it is enormously useful if you would like to practice being Way Less Impressed with the horrible things that internal critical voices say.

Plus it comes with a coloring book.

Plus buying something at the museum gift shop helps offset the cost of running a free museum.

How was your week?

Come play in the comments. Share something from your week, take a breath, or just say hi! No rules, my format doesn’t have to be yours, we’ve been doing this every week for years now and there still isn’t a right way.

Everyone belongs. We let people have their own experience. We’re supportive and welcoming. We lovingly refrain from giving advice.

And of course it’s always okay to comment under a made-up name, whether for play and delight, or in the interest of Safety First.

Wishing you a glorrrrrrrrrrrrious day, a restful weekend and a happy week to come.

Shabbat shalom.

It’s fine if it’s not Friday anymore. There’s complete chicken amnesty — jump in whenever you like. Blowing kisses to the Beloved Lurkers too!

The Fluent Self