Friday chicken

A look at the good and the hard in my week, a ritual of reflecting.

It is Friday and we are here.

{a breath for Friday.}

What worked this week?

Changing passwords.

Partly because I got a hit from Incoming Me that the time for this is now, and after not listening to her on the credit cards, I think-hope I’ve learned my lesson.

And partly because I realized that a password I use often is like a door. And why would I not want my doors (and my passages through them) to be beautiful, congruent, harmonious, and generally reflect how I want to be in the world.

Now whenever I log into things I smile with delight.

Turning off notifications.

Yes!

Next time I might…

Pause, breathe, say thank you.

This week I noticed that I would mysteriously forget the good, even though good things are right there in front of me, waiting for me to smile at them.

So. Thank you.

If you feel drawn to leave comments 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 appreciated. Hearts or pebbles are great if you don’t know what to say, often I don’t know what to say either so we’re in the same boat.

Eight breaths for the hard, challenging and mysterious.

  1. As a friend of mine says, the strategy of “wait it out and hope things get better” is not particularly effective. The sovereign thing to do is to keep checking in, ask for status updates, and not fear being a squeaky wheel. My long-standing pattern of I Don’t Want To Be a PLB (pissy little bitch, long story) gets in the way. A breath for strength, sustenance, and (quietly) making some noise.
  2. Related: it’s been two weeks since I made a very firm request of someone, and they have not responded. A breath for the perfect simple solution.
  3. Packing is fraught. For me. Preparing for a six month road trip more so. No small feat to balance Elegant Minimalism with Be Prepared For Anything, with I Am A Devoted Wild Sensualist, with I Am A Formerly Homeless Person Who Likes Visible Evidence Of Plenty. A breath for trust, and remembering that I am held.
  4. This week did not include much sleep, and now my body is complaining, rightfully so. A breath for taking care of myself, and for making peace with the fact that what I need is what I need.
  5. Second-guessing everything. A breath for standing in my strength.
  6. A year and four months ago, during rally, incoming me acquired a gift for me. To say I liked it is an understatement. I liked it so much that it scared me, and immediately hid it in my closet. This week it was time to bring it into the light. This was important, and not easy. A breath for safe passage.
  7. Frustration with so many things. With institutions, ingrained patterns, outrageous sexism (and all the -isms and -phobics and -shaming) and how this is everywhere, both in the sense that it is built in, and in the sense that it pops up, and is exhausting and stupid, and yet still mysteriously invisible to those who don’t directly experience it, A breath for undoing, and for bridges.
  8. Inhale, exhale. May all misunderstandings and distortions, internal and external, dissolve in love if not in laughter. Goodbye (and thank you), mysteries and hard moments of this week. May I choose to trust-more love-more release-more receive-more.

Eight breaths of good, reassuring, delight-filled.

  1. For the first time ever, the spring time change didn’t mess with me, and was funny instead of traumatic. I have not-fun memories related to Sudden Time Change Sprung (ha, pun) On Me, including the time I was late to an exam at university in Tel Aviv, and the entire lecture hall laughed at me. No one believed me because the time change had happened a week earlier, and I hadn’t known. Being disbelieved is the most painful thing for me. This year, I forgot, as I do every year. Took a nap at 7:30pm only to wake up six hours later. Set a timer to go off X hours later for a breakfast rendezvous. Woke up on my own at the exact right time, completely baffled to see there was another hour left on the timer. Took a while to put the pieces together but I laughed. And for once not feeling jet-lagged, maybe thanks to fourteen hours of sleep? A breath for rewriting.
  2. Speaking of curses being lifted, the beautiful boy made it his mission in life to reverse my birthday curse, and it really was the loveliest day. Offline. Out in the woods on a glorious spring day. Delicious pizza sans gluten (how is that even possible). Kisses and sweetness. Writing notes with Incoming Me. Tea with my favorite uncle. And then, as described, bed at 7:30pm, because being thirty eight is exhausting, apparently. A breath for pure, sweet, unconditional joy.
  3. Brunch with Luke the Noir Gunslinger, getting caught up on all the machinations of Blakely’s henchmen. A breath for friendship.
  4. My knee is steadily doing better. It was able to go on hikes (with a brace), and my balance is better. Sitting is still not fun, and I’m still being pretty careful, but things are moving, in all senses of that. A breath of love for my body.
  5. I expected leaving for six month road trip would provoke the most intense of identity crises, but mainly I feel excited. This seems like a brilliantly reckless and irresponsible thing to be doing at thirty eight years old, while other people are doing adult things like jobs, kids, goals. In the meantime my big plan is: DO LOTS OF NOTHING AND BE OUTDOORS. Turn inward, get quiet and peaceful, follow each tiny yes, see what happens. And I’m weirdly fine with this. A breath for Marvelously Unfazed, the superpower I always want.
  6. Embarking on Operation True Yes aka Rosh Tzalul (clear head) aka six months on the road. It is happening! We took off last night for California. A breath for Shmita and this grand adventure.
  7. I caught myself in a hilarious lie, and realized that I have been telling a story about how I don’t know anything about how to resolve Situation X, when in fact I am practically the world expert on resolving Situation X, and no one is more qualified than I am to do this mission. A breath for remembering, and for listening to the things I tell myself.
  8. Thankfulness. So much is good. Brunch with Marisa. Passing notes with Incoming Me. Sweetness-laced wisdom from my lover when I was falling apart. Richard took me on a hundred errands. Days are longer. The magnolias and forsythia are just obscenely luscious right now. I love the Secret Sword Society so much! Discarding things that are no longer my yes. Everything is okay. Nothing is wrong. Now is not then. All Timing Is Right Timing. A full breath of deep appreciation in my thank-you heart.

Wham booms, wisdom, superpowers, salve and FBOTW!

Operations completed. Wham boom!

Whoosh Ha Mastodon Boom is secret agent code meaning: this thing is done! Shortened to wham-boom.

I am retooling the Provisioning Map (packing list) based on what I learned this week. The errands happened and the packing happened, and I made it! Oh, and an addiction broke (like a fever breaking, not like a limb), and I did not engage in pellet-pushing this week. Thank you fractal flowers. Wham Boom.

Revisiting some wise words from past-me.

Oh, Barrington!

Superpowers I had this week…

I had the superpower of This Moment Is Right, and the related power of Looking Up At The Precise Moment To See The Clues.

Powers I want.

The power of Letting Go Of This Is No Big Deal.

The Salve of No Big Deal.

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 salve features Katy Perry saying, bring the beat back.

It eases headaches, soothes worries, and has a bubbly, fun, pink feel to it. It’s like something you’d run into on Adventure Time.

When I wear this salve, I stop being impressed by my fuzzball monsters, and I remember that actually I am okay, and things are okay, and the story hasn’t unfolded yet, so let’s kick back and watch to see what happens.

It has a clean, clear citrus scent, it is impatient with unnecessary cobwebs (as opposed to the kind in my uncle’s house, which are absolutely necessary), and it makes me think of the word uplifting, and realize that I never properly understood it before.

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.

This week’s band comes from my friend Luke, and it’s called The Technician, their latest album is The Map of Suspicious Weird Things, they play wistful ballads on banjoes and ukuleles, and, as it turns out, they’re actually just one guy.

Attenzione! Attention, AGENTS.

zipper-monsters Two wonderful playground companions, Momo and Shmulik are still available for adoption.

They are fuzzy, friendly, and very helpful. You put a mason jar inside with water for drinking, or snacks for snacking, and your marvelous provisions are in disguise, because everyone just thinks you have a very friendly monster.

They attach to your bag with clips, or hide inside your bag to surprise you. When unzipped, they grin wildly. Each has a hidden pocket inside for post-it notes or treasure.

$12 each + $5.95 shipping/handling or both for $18 + $12.65 shipping/handling.

And, as always, I am recommending the Emergency Get Calm, Quiet And Steady techniques, aka the thing that keeps me from falling apart.

They help, a lot. Not just with calming down in the moment but with building the kind of habits that allow you to change your relationship with whatever is scary or uncomfortable.

Come play if you like…

Join me in the comments. Some of us share hard and good, some of us say hi, or maybe we’re feeling quiet. My ritual doesn’t have to be your ritual. Whatever works for you. We’ve been doing this every week for years now and there still isn’t a right way. Feel free to leave pebbles (or petals!), hearts, warmth, sweetness. Those always work.

Everyone belongs. We let people have their own experience. We’re supportive and welcoming. We don’t give advice.

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

Shabbat shalom.

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

The Fluent Self