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, for this space, and for being here when we get here.}

What worked this week?

Asking friends to keep me company.

Both virtual and IRL.

Companionship was a big deal this week.

Next time I might…

Run away.

Okay, two years ago I made a promise to myself to get out of town in July, and avoid the explosions and trauma of fireworks on and around [that holiday].

Last year I was somewhere quiet and peaceful and beautiful, and it was heaven.

This year I don’t know what I was thinking. It’s awful. Fireworks every day, all week, and we’re not even at the Fourth yet.

Let’s keep planning ahead, my love. And remember that it’s not just the one day, it’s more like ten days.

And the title of my upcoming Biopic if it were based on this week…

That Seems Like Way Too Much Work, Never Mind. The Havi Brooks Story.

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. This was a challenging week, and really, that’s kind of all I want to say about that, so let this be a placeholder for [Silent Retreat] on things being difficult for me. A breath for remembering that I am allowed to find challenging things challenging, and all the superpowers of that.
  2. This heat wave is ridiculous and seemingly never-ending, and it’s nearly a hundred degrees (if not more) every day, and it is reminding me of the worst summer of my life and I am having a rough time of it. A breath for me.
  3. Body is unhappy. Not sleeping well, or, for that matter, doing anything well, because of the heat and sunburn and early fireworks going off and the neighbor is doing something that involves 8am jackhammers, and also I am dealing with [situations]. A breath for acknowledgment, legitimacy, permission, meeting myself with love.
  4. I am spending my days in the basement where the air is cooler, going through boxes upon boxes, and letting things go, and it hurts so much, and I am uncovering things (in the boxes and in me) that I did not want to see or remember or encounter, and all this letting go is the worst. A breath for easing and releasing.
  5. There is a version of me, I call her Volatile Me. She’s in her early twenties, I think, and she lives to make trouble, and she is so hurt and so angry, and she is hellbent on destroying everything in sight and doesn’t care who else gets taken down in the process (hint, it’s always her), and she is really angling for us to go on a Stupid Streak, so she can watch everything burn. I love her, I recognize that she wants to protect me, I want her to feel heard and acknowledged, and I am not okay with her going to the front of the V and taking command. A breath for these old, old patterns and all the fun-sounding but ultimately self-destructive things I want to do when she’s in lashing out mode, a breath for making new choices.
  6. Ohmygod this country. Black churches are burning every day and the news is like, lalalalala this doesn’t exist. The cognitive dissonance of that, how extreme it is. People are being terrorized, and it’s essentially invisible except there it is, happening. A breath of grace, please, for seeing, for naming things, for everything that needs to change.
  7. Two weeks without my lover, who is too busy and/or out of cell range to talk to me, and has basically really just gone AWOL, and and half the time I crave his company because I miss him so much and also just because I want someone to talk to, and the other half of the time I want to shut him out and hurt him for not being there for me (see: Volatile Me), but I can’t shut him out anyway even if I were going to, since he’s nowhere to be found. A breath for every single part of this, and for remembering that the story I’m telling is not truth. Truth is that I am safe and loved and held in grace, all the time, whether he’s in my life or not. And truth is also that he is crazy about me, and none of my monster-stories are even remotely-accurate. So let’s stay in truth, babe. Let’s come back to truth.
  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. Had another miracle week of not being in chronic pain most of the time. A breath for everything that is working.
  2. BEACH DAY! Julie and I went to the coast, where it was 73 degrees as opposed to 97 in Portland. I thought I might have some feelings, since we went to a place I used to go with The Spy, but it was easy. Oh, the Pacific Ocean. Oh, cool breezes and wearing a scarf, and writing. I need to spend way more time at the coast. A breath for happiness.
  3. Before the sunburn and other body stuff, I was MOVING MY BODY and it felt so good. I mean, I was mainly doing that because my dance studio has delicious amounts of air conditioning, but movement was wonderful. And I went blues dancing, which is incredible, because I haven’t felt motivation or desire to dance in a long time. I left my house! I went out dancing! Had some beautifully creative dances. A breath for joyful movement, for connection, for creativity and play.
  4. All this releasing is good for me. Processing all this emotion is good for me, even when it’s not fun. I can feel the truth of this. I have the tools to do this. Thank you, patterns, for revealing yourselves to me so clearly that it’s obvious what’s going on, and I can find ways to interrupt them. Thank you, wisest me, for reminding me that this is a useful experience. Thank you, internal scientists, for showing me evidence that yes, I have a tendency to get kind of pugilistic in high temperatures, yes, heat puts me back into Tel Aviv flashbacks, and I get really reactive, and that this isn’t the wholeness of me, it’s just a reaction to externals. Thank you. Thank you. A breath for taking care of myself.
  5. Agent Origami and I are doing a secret Rally right now, and it is THE BEST thing in the entire world. I am writing. This is good. Everything is part of Shmita. I have superpowers and a container for processing. Oh, and I went to see a psychic, accidentally on purpose, who was wrong about this one thing that all psychics are wrong about but man was she on target about some other things: she saw right through Volatile Me, and named the situation I had just spent two hours describing in my journal. A breath for trusting the process.
  6. Naps = magic. A breath of love for the healing power of napping.
  7. A few years ago I would have either repressed Volatile Me or let her take over completely and then regretted it so hard. Now I’m able to sit down and hash things out with her, take her dancing, listen, learn. And then I was able to take that intel and talk to my lover about [feelings], and this went really well instead of the way it would have gone back in the day. So. This is big. A breath for conscious interaction, for being present with the hard stuff, and for remembering how to play.
  8. Thankfulness. So much is good. Cold washcloths. Spray bottles. Frozen dates. Frozen bananas. Netflix. I found some things in the basement I’d thought were lost forever. A thing at my ballroom that could have gone horribly, tragically wrong ended up being fine. Still happy about Operation True Yes. My lover is on his way to me in four days, and I can feel him glowing sweetness towards me and smiling that smile I like so much. I dreamed a healing. Everything is okay. Nothing is wrong, even when I think it is. 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.

I sorted through ELEVEN GIGANTIC BOXES full of papers. I found scribbled post-it notes from my mother. I cried my eyes out. I recycled things that I was scared to let go of. We can call that a successful mission, and I now award myself a billion sparklepoints. Wham Boom.

Superpowers I had this week…

I had the superpowers of Realizing What I’m Actually Upset About, and Giving Myself Permission To Do Less.

Which is kind of perfect, since last week I asked for the superpower of trusting in the powers of doing nothing.

Powers I want.

I want all the superpowers of Self-Care Is My Extreme Sport.

The Salve of Self-Care Is My Extreme Sport.

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.

When I put on this salve, I treat Taking Exquisite Care of Myself the same way that an athlete in an extreme sport approaches shredding it.

I rest like it’s going to be videotaped for posterity, and an entire generation of kids will stare open-mouthed at my balls-out fearless mastery of things like giving myself a glass of water and going back to bed.

This salve combines Strength and Courage with Sweetness and Play. It goes well with the new calendar page for July (LOVE MORE) with its superpower of This Is A Badass Way To Live.

This, yes this, is a badass way to live.

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 is from a drawing I found in the basement. It was a page from the Monster Coloring Book and the monster was upset because I forgot to be a giraffe. That’s this band: You Forgot To Be A Giraffe. Their latest album is called Don’t You Even Care, they play funk elevator music and are actually just one guy.

Attenzione! Attention, AGENTS.

I am recommending the Emergency Get Calm, Quiet And Steady techniques, aka the thing that keeps me from falling apart. This got me through the 2am panicking again this week!

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 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 — jump in whenever you like. Blowing kisses to the Beloved Lurkers too!

The Fluent Self