Friday chicken

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

It is Friday Saturday and we are here.

I was on the road and wasn’t able to post and felt kind of stressed out about that, and about other things, but hey, we finally made it to camp, so here we go.

Pausing to breath for the week that was.

{a breath for being here when we get here.}

What worked this week?

Happy Fairy Self-Godmothering Day!

A reclaiming was (and is) necessary for this holiday I dislike which seems to take up more and more social bandwidth each year.

I practiced being a good fairy godmother to myself, and I got myself a present.

Blouse button!

Found myself in Portland for a few days, and the dress I wanted to wear to Waltz Brunch was being way more cleavage-ey than it is in my head.

Normally I would say SO WHAT, DEAL WITH IT, because I have very little patience with the notion that clothes suddenly become immodest when worn by me. To quote Jessica Rabbit, as one must, “I can’t help it, I’m drawn that way.”

But my desire in that moment was to cover up.

Miraculously, there was a jet black blouse button (apologies in advance for their problematic tagline — “when modesty matters”) in the bathroom, and it did the trick, and now I am going to keep this with me everywhere instead of letting it sit in a drawer.

Next time I might…

Not choose the eight hour bus ride option.

The physical trauma of being crammed in one position for half a day was not even the horrible part, and it erased the accumulated relaxation of the previous week of doing sweet nothing and communing with the moon.

I knew this option wouldn’t be fun, but I chose it because it was sensible.

And in the end, there is nothing sensible about it. Certainly nothing sensible about having to hide in bed and get physical therapy to recover. Next time I will choose the most peaceful option, and if the monsters say it isn’t sensible, I will point out that peacefulness is very sensible.

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. The eight hour bus ride that felt more like eight days. Featuring a drunk Loud Talker regaling the woman next to him with his life story for the entire, a nine year old who thought banging on the window was a fun way to pass the time, and the Somali teen next to me who gave a fascinating albeit distressing three hour long monologue at top volume into his phone, recounting the street skirmishes he and his friends are regularly involved in. A breath for now knowing that I don’t want to be on a bus for eight hours.
  2. Still in between in so many ways. I mean, okay, when is one not in between. But this sabbatical time is big, powerful stuff, and sometimes that can make everything a big wobbly and woozly, which is a word that should be a word. A breath for the superpower of Transitions Are Doors And I Am Great At Doors.
  3. Four days back in Portland after sixty days away was bizarre and extremely disorienting. Both the city part, and then Portland specifically. A breath for this.
  4. Five, yes five, different unpleasant experiences related to people crossing boundaries. And then watching myself flub this so hard (in the opinions of — and as narrated by — the Monster Chorus). I just went into my patterns, and either removed myself from the situation or gritted teeth and got through. By the time I got around to actually setting a boundary, I was too upset to be able to do it gracefully, and one person got to be the recipient of the total sum of my upset feelings. A breath for the ongoing study of all these fascinating mysteries of life, and for remembering compassion for me. This stuff takes time to unlearn, and that’s okay.
  5. [Silent Retreat]. A breath for meeting myself with love.
  6. Missing my lover. A breath for presence.
  7. Apprehensive about some future ops. A breath for trust.
  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. Not sure how I would have made it through the eight hour bus ride without the lovely kind-hearted people of Twitter. Thanks to everyone who talked feminism and mother’s day and played word games and shared travel stories. A breath for virtual companionship.
  2. A lovely coincidence meant I got to attend Waltz Brunch this week, a unique, eclectic and not-like-anything-else monthly event which happens to be my very favorite thing in Portland. Danced for three and a half hours, and smiled my face off the entire time. A breath for floating, for play, and for joy.
  3. I shared my experience of feeling disoriented with my friend the Vicar, and he said, “Well, we shifted everything two inches to the left while you were gone. That’s a lot of it, I suspect. It was part of the Portland Sinister Slide Street Festival.” This cheered me up immensely, because it’s ludicrous, and also it actually helped. Every time I felt a little off, I reminded myself that nothing is wrong, it’s just that couple inches of shift. Like what they say on planes about your luggage. Your Experience May Have Shifted During The Voyage. A breath for humor, perspective, and things that are deeply reassuring even though they make no sense.
  4. Missing my lover/companion-in-adventuring was easier this week. Maybe because I knew I’d be in his arms again on Thursday? Or maybe because we had more access to means of communication so we could connect more than just checking in. Also, it’s kind of sweet and romantic that someone would travel through snow and ice and hardship for many, many, many hours just to meet me at an airport. A breath for connection, for sweetness, for joy and for Thursday.
  5. I did set a boundary this week. And in retrospect, I dealt with the other situations as well as I could in the moment, it was what it was, and now I have a better game plan for next time. And I am going to practice things that my monsters think are rude. A breath for wearing my crown, for trusting, for trying things, for being brave.
  6. So many good parts to Operation Adventures in Reverberation. I also learned something neat this week: the disgusting gel that dental hygienists use to polish your teeth contains aspartame. Well, that isn’t the neat thing, that’s horrifying. But the neat thing is that you can ask them not to, and they’ll use baking soda instead. This is one of those things I wish someone had told me but I’m glad I know now, and I didn’t get the usual dental headache. A breath for asking, for learning, and for everything about Shmita.
  7. Friends!!!! This is the main thing that is missing from life on the road. I got to spend a day with Jane! And a day with Marisa! And brunch with the Vicar, dinners and movies with Richard and regrounding rituals with Danielle. Plus dances and working out and seeing people I really enjoy. A breath for how important this is.
  8. Thankfulness. So much is good. Thursday night dancing. Back in the beautiful boy’s arms. Trusting my instincts. I am a grand adventuress. Everything is okay. Nothing is wrong. Now is not then. All Timing Is Right Timing. Thankful for this grand adventure. 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.

This was a week of ideas and process, with a lot of research and frantic scribbling of notes and planting seeds for later. Thank you, Mission of Less, and fractal flowers, thank you Shmita, thank you Switch/Swoop. Wham Boom.

Superpowers I had this week…

I had the superpower of Trusting In Less Is More, the superpower of somehow being magically glowing — to the point that I just threw my makeup in a bag in a closet because it seemed so wildly unnecessary, and the superpower of being Well Provisioned, aka Right Tool For The Job, which is the superpower I always, always, always want.

Powers I want.

I want the superpower of Fearless Boundary-Setting As A Matter Of Course, and the related superpower of If Someone I Barely Know Aggressively Tries To Yank Me Towards Them So They Can Kiss My Cheek Because They Want To, I Aggressively Kick Them In The Shins And Maybe Apologize Later But Only If I Feel Like It.

The Salve of Beautiful Boundaries.

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 is directly related to the superpower of Safety First, as well as to the superpower of I Take Care Of Myself First, which is the superpower of the month of May.

When I wear this salve, there is an extra buffer around me. It is palpable and sweet and no one accidentally wanders into me. I don’t even need to establish boundaries or worry about if this is even a situation where that could cause more distress, I just have these strong, beautiful, glowingly powerful boundaries, they just are.

I am visible to everyone who needs to see me, and invisible to everyone who doesn’t.

As it seeps into my skin, I begin to feel very warm towards the world: I wish everyone well, and then, as this happens, I am suddenly able to deeply trust that it is in their best interest — as well as mine and everyone else’s — that I don’t ever put up with things that are not okay for me.

This salve reminds me of roses: sexy, sharp, sweet, loving, protected. Abusers are allergic to it, so they wander off in a fit of coughing.

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 to us by way of autocorrect misunderstanding how co-working works. The band is called Cow Irking. Their latest album is called Oh We Just Irk Together. They play amplified fiddle versions of Bob Dylan songs at very high speeds, and as it turns out, it’s just one guy.

And my upcoming Biopic…

Still Not Considering Becoming An Astronaut. The Havi Brooks Story.

Attenzione! Attention, AGENTS.

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

Come play if you like…

Join me in the comments. You are welcome to take a breath, share something from your week, leave warmth or hearts, whatever works for you. 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 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