Over the past five and a half years of running this business, I’ve read all sorts of books that deal with what I think of as the general theme of space:

That is to say, organizing, decluttering, systems, and the fascinating but depressingly-named field of “time management”.

And just about every book recommends that you spy on yourself. Different biggified experts recommend different ways of doing this, but the idea is the same.

They want you to take time and figure out what your systems are or how you use your time or where you put things.

I never do these exercises.

Not that I don’t get the appeal, because I do.

The essence of the spying practice is all about things I like:

Observation, play, mindfulness, curiosity, wonder, sneaking around the stuck and accessing possibility.

And pattern-finding, which is my greatest love.

But I don’t ever feel like spying on myself.

So last week I went to work on finding out what’s up with that.

Here’s the deal.

After ten minutes of my favorite pattern-detangling method — flailing around disastrously with Shiva Nata to facilitate the unlikely realizations — I started asking questions.

And bing bing there it was.

The reason I’ve been avoiding this tracking exercise for years:

There is a part of me who is seriously afraid of all the mean-yet-accurate things my internal spies will see. With their brutally devastating insight, they’ll nail everything that’s wrong about me.

It won’t just be information about what I can change or do differently. No, it will be perceptive, cogent, well-thought-out insights about how much I suck and how disastrously I run my life.

Ah. Okay.

So we have to turn the spies.

Time to subvert the system. Turn them over to our side. Get them to be a very different kind of spy. Here’s the set-up.

These spies are only looking for information about my me-ness. My essence. They’re looking for the qualities that inform the Land of Havi.

They aren’t trying to figure out how to help me or how to fix me. They don’t have an agenda. They are full of love. Like Hiro or Cairene or Shannon or other friends who get me and appreciate me.

They are only interested in knowing what I appreciate and what I care about.

And I don’t have to receive the information directly. It can be a mediated experience. I can spy on them, if I want.

They’ll say what good things they learned about my space and I will listen in, but they won’t be able to see me because I am hiding.

What shiny things do my pro-me secret agents uncover?

This is what they said about me, based on my office — my much-neglected Pirate Queen Quarters at the Playground.

Havi likes simplicity and spaciousness.

She appreciates color and richness — collections of wonderfully colorful things, and also vast expanses of emptiness and white space to balance it. This is important to her.

Havi lines up her notebooks. She likes bowls of things. She avoids what is conventional.

There is an interesting combination of abundant collections and this very zen spare thing.

She likes to draw and she doesn’t tell anyone about it.

Nothing goes on the wall until she knows for sure. She gives careful consideration to decision-making. She cares a lot about each decision.

Havi loves to write. She likes bold colors in small doses. She is very busy.

She likes order and structure, comfort and simplicity.

She does not care for desks and chairs.

She’s a classy lady.

Hmmm. Interesting.

The only part that seemed really out there was the classy lady part, since I’m pretty sure no one who has ever met me would describe me that way. But it made me smile.

Everything else rang true.

There was a part that the spies wanted to say — about how I put the needs of my students in front of everything — but they knew I’d take that wrong.

So instead they said that they appreciate all the work I’m doing to be respectful of my internal and external space, and that it was an honor to be invited.

And then I came in and thanked them, and then we went out to the cafe down the street and had drinks.

Finding the way that works.

It occurs to me that my fear of learning uncomfortable things about myself through examining my space is probably a parallel to the fear a lot of my people have about doing Shiva Nata — that they’ll see the patterns they don’t want to see.

And even though the shivanautical realizations are often so full of sweetness, I get how that could seem really intimidating.

I’m glad I did the exercise. Also glad that I waited until now. And relieved that I was able to find a way to rewrite it for my own purposes. Because it was really useful.

And it ended up giving me another sneaky idea that actually resolved a ridiculously old piece of stuck.

Playing. And comment zen in the blanket fort.

If you want to subvert this exercise in a variety of ways, go for it. Make it your own.

I would love to know if you also avoid these appealing-yet-intimidating mindfulness exercises in books. My plan is to keep flailing with Shiva Nata to brainstorm more loopholes and alternative experiments

As always, we all have our stuff. We let everyone else have their stuff. We talk about our own experiences, knowing that sharing our personal stories online is vulnerable, which is why we don’t give unsolicited advice.

That is all. Hugs. Super secret spy handshakes. And code words, of course.

The Fluent Self