So I’m a big fan of that weird form of brain exercise known as “free-writing” (uh, worst name ever?) where you ask questions and then just write down whatever pops into your head.
It almost always turns out that there are these neat little surprises tucked away somewhere in your subconscious.
And these come whooshing out when you combine asking a direct question with putting pen to paper with no rules other than just keeping the pen moving.
But you know what is even more insanely great than this kind of open-ended intuitive journaling stuff?
Doing it right after Shiva Nata.
The part where I apologize, but only very briefly.
So I figure you might be bored to death what with me going on and on about the magical, crazy, sometimes-torturous Dance of Shiva.
I can get oh, kind of obsessive about it.
So let me back up a little:
You don’t have to do it. I’ll still like you if you never, ever become a Shivanaut. Promise.
And you can absolutely use the questions I give here for a round of good old-fashioned journaling, and I’m pretty sure that neat things will happen anyway.
All I’m saying is that if you take these questions …
… and then you do a practice that basically sends you into a mush-like state of chaos and confusion, taking apart your brain and rebuilding it …
Well, it’s the bomb.
One last little bit of explain-ey-ness.
The questions here are ones I asked in one of the Berlin workshops last week.
The answers are the ones that I wrote down during this state of deliciously confused brain scramble.
If the questions seem to be … oddly phrased? That’s because I was asking them in German.
“What does my issue, my problem, my pattern look like?”
Complex.
But the individual parts are just … lines and circles. Lines and circles.
It only looks all knotted, because I don’t understand how it’s all connected yet.
It’s like a language I don’t speak yet.
So it’s gibberish, except that it’s really not.
If I pull out or zoom in I can see its beauty. Whoah. Yes. Yes! There is beauty in this pattern. Which is bizarre.
Even at the same time as I’m trying to take it apart … there is just something so organic about its shapes.
“What does my pattern need from me?”
Patience.
Some new pieces.
To love myself even when I haven’t figured out all my stuff yet.
Space. Space to be taken apart in!
It’s like I’m trying to undo this huge, complicated knot in a tiny, dark closet. It doesn’t make sense.
If we were out in a field or on the ocean or in space, it would be so much easier.
Interesting. That isn’t what I expected. It’s like my pattern wants me to be able to take it apart. It’s asking me to replace some of its parts.
I wouldn’t have thought that it even had an agenda, but that if it did, it would be the agenda of self-preservation. That’s not what is happening here though. It wants to be changed.
“What do I need right now?”
Room, space, time — all for experimenting.
And permission.
I need permission to take these things and have them and want them. Lots and lots of permission.
That’s where I’m stuck right now, with the giving it to myself part.
“What if I had permission, in my actual life just as in Shiva Nata, to do everything wrong …?”
I would have to let my fear go.
I’d have to have a goodbye party for my fear. No, a tea party.
A fear tea party.
With lots of tiny little cups. There would be grape juice and cookies. And we would be sad together and then I would leave and go straight to where I need to go, without hesitation.
“What’s missing?”
That permission, again. The strength, the knowing that this is really the right thing to do.
No, that’s not what it is. What is missing?
Courage? No. A starting point? No. Wait. Crap.
Nothing.
Nothing is missing.
There is nothing that can stop me. So it’s nothing. It’s nothing. I could just do it now if I wanted to. What?!?!
NOTHING.
That kind of scares me, but it also kind of makes me want to run out of my imaginary prison screaming freeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeedom! Nice.
That’s it. Do you want to play too?
You don’t have to do Shiva Nata first.
Though if you feel like it, five minutes of practice is a great way to warm up your internal processing functions so you can throw these questions at them and get Useful Stuff.
But honestly? I have a feeling that if you just sit down and write out an answer to any one of these things, something … interesting will show up.
You’re more than welcome to share it here. Or you can totally not share it here.
Or you can share something else. We’re not picky.
Follow
Freedom! Yay!
I was introduced to stream-of-consciousness writing about 12-13 years ago in Julia Cameron’s book, where she calls them ‘morning pages’. I’ve done them (off and on) ever since. When I do them, I’m amazed at the things that come out.
And yeah. I hit a major ‘freedom moment’ regarding a particular thing just a few days ago and it is unbelievable and amazing and powerful and fabulous. It was just this one thing I kept bumping up against a little bit. And then wham! Freedom! Which is one of the most amazing feelings there is.
Thanks for sharing the process.
Glad you hit the freedom trail.
All the best!
deb
.-= Deb Owen´s last blog ..your container is full, it’s time to empty it =-.
I’m finding the questions are helping with the direction of the free writing, so instead of rambling and maybe avoiding the topic it is right there for me to either deliberately choose to avoid or to face up to.
I am finding some of the movements of the Shiva Nata practice oddly familiar, they feel like movements I have always been making. Others not so much. đ It has been interesting to watch myself struggle to “do it wrong anyway”. (I got my DVD on Monday and have used it Tuesday and today).
What does my pattern look like?
A tunnel. Like one of those cartoons or tv shows where the characters find footprints, and then more footprints and finally they realize they’ve been going in circles. “Hey, I’ve been here before”. And I built the tunnel.
What does my pattern need from me?
To keep going in the circles because if I don’t it will be lonely and afraid, and I will be lonely and afraid. Or at the very least not recognize myself any more. Or maybe not know how to deal with the new stuff if I dug an escape hatch or took the off ramp (the traffic circle metaphor also applied here, with landmarks, etc).
What do I need right now?
To make a concrete choice. Pick one thing and do it (this month I am putting a sticker on the calendar each day I do something physical; it is getting quite full and cheery).
What if I had permission to do everything wrong?
That is *hard*, like watching myself doing the Shiva Nata and seeing my movements not match up and knowing it is ok. I could take any step and know that if it was wrong I could do it over. It wouldn’t be life or death any more.
I realized that I could let go of the belief that I have to do everything right and perfectly the first time because do-overs and mistakes are not allowed.
What’s missing?
Me. Or my allowing and permission. I have everything else that I need.
As ever, wow. Thank you.
.-= Andi´s last blog ..Excellent Opportunity =-.
I’m going to try doing this exercise, because I have been trying to write about my own knot for ages and it’s just not coming. I like the phrase *writing practice* used by Natalie Goldberg.
.-= Darcy´s last blog ..Book: Jacquardâs Web =-.
Hi – I’ve been lurking for a little over a week, and I really appreciate what you share here. These questions are finally inspiring me to say, “Hi – I’ve been lurking for a little over a week, and I really appreciate what you share here.” đ
Thank you.
My answers:
1. What does my pattern look like? Spirals. It looks like spirals, and I keep looking for it to be not my pattern, for it to be something outside of me, apart from me, something not-me.
2. What does my pattern need from me? Love and acceptance. My pattern needs me to look within instead of outside. My pattern, my issues, my problems need me to love me.
3. What do I need right now? I’m not sure I need anything right now. Okay, maybe a good cry. And a new house. And to know whether I want to stay in Eugene or move up to Portland. And for the termites to go away, but for me not to return to being complacent about staying here. I need to remember to trust myself. I need clear answers, which means I need the spaciousness to wait for, to hear, to see what arises. Which means I need patience and the willingness to look. I need more curiosity and gentleness and compassion and less self-judgment. [I guess there was rather a lot that I need after all.]
4. What if I had permission to do everything wrong? I could move to Portland, talk to E. I could indulge my curiosity about living there and not feel so hung up on making the “right” choice. If I had permission to do everything wrong, I could stop worrying about trying to do everything right. I ‘m feeling a huge sense of heart-openness, of freedom, of release, just imagining what that’s like.
5. What’s missing? That permission is missing. Or rather, it comes and goes. Something else is missing (or maybe it’s the same thing)–something that keeps me from breaking through that last barrier and seeing/saying ‘This is what I want.’ I think a piece of what’s missing is courage (which is probably tied in with the permission piece). What’s missing is me just doing it. Trust in myself is another piece of it (another one that comes and goes).
No.
Stillness is missing. Ha! Permanence is also missing, but only because I keep expecting it even though I know it doesn’t exist.
Wow. Yes, like Deb, I’ve also done Julia Cameron’s “morning pages” on and off over the years – but very definitively off since I had kids đ It’s very, very powerful.
OK. Deep breath. I’m going to give these a go. I haven’t done Shiva Nata (yet, yet), but I am in an almost altered state of consciousness from chronic lack of sleep and an osteopathy session earlier today, so that will have to do!
âWhat does my issue, my problem, my pattern look like?â
It looks like a drain: a vortex, around which my energy circles, being drawn nearer and nearer, until it flows through the hole and disappears. I have heaps, vats of energy, which is lucky, because far too much of it is running out this drain.
It’s rather elegant, actually. The surface around the drain is sky-blue and smooth, like moulded ceramic with a matt glaze – a huge, slippy bowl with a taut conical shape. It’s in me, but I’m in it too.
âWhat does my pattern need from me?â
There’s a plug – a stopper. It fits precisely into the hole with that satisfying whisper you get from hand-made pottery. If I find it, everything will get easier.
âWhat do I need right now?â
Sleep. Rest. Leisure. Money. Softness. Permission. Kindness. Love. A hammock.
âWhat if I had permission, in my actual life just as in Shiva Nata, to do everything wrong âŠ?â
I think this may be beyond the limits of my imagination at present. If I concentrate hard, I get a wisp, a fleeting spark of sensation. It’s a loosening, a lightness, a dissolution of chains. The removal of an entire … mycelium of anxiety and obligation that pervades my life. But seriously. Permission to do everything wrong? Inconceivable. (I’m thinking I may need Shiva Nata more than I realised. Damn.)
âWhatâs missing?â
Awareness. Everything I need is here, if I can just turn my attention to it.
Right, that’s it. Coo, and also, gosh. Thank you.
.-= Lean Ni Chuilleanain´s last blog ..Sunday Stash, no. 2 =-.
Ooooh, today’s space is especially yummy. Thanks for the best bomb ever, Havi… a la Shiva Nata. Hey, and thanks for sharing workshop questions with us. I know this stuff is Premium. XO
What does my pattern look like?
It’s a Labyrinth.
What does my pattern need from me?
For me to walk it. Without a chain-saw. ‘Cause my impatient nature wants to mow down all the curvy, winding, loop-da-loo hedges, and just get there, already. But, sigh, Lady Labyrinth insists on her undulating circuitry.
What do I need right now?
A direct, expeditious path. Please. Or the PATIENCE to put up with my Labyrinth.
What’s missing?
A bigger saw? Just kidding. Obviously, the labyrinth is my own neural-maze. My buh-rain. And I really do believe the more I dance, the more I’ll take delight in the turns and curves and bends. Confusion will morph into a rippling mound of magenta silk.
I’ll take that.
.-= Erika Harris´s last blog ..What do you *really* want? =-.
P.S. I gave myself permission to skip the permission question đ XOXO
.-= Erika Harris´s last blog ..What do you *really* want? =-.
Wow. I like this idea – free writing after Shiva Nata. I did the morning pages for a while .. but then they fell off. The problem with them was that I was doing them before even rolling out of bed. Let’s just say that I couldn’t read what I wrote afterwards to remember if there was anything useful buried in them or not.
What does my issue, my problem, my pattern look like?
Itâs hard. Itâs sticky and knotty and all tangled up. Some of it is old and some of it is new â and itâs gotten all tangled up together so now itâs hard to pull individual pieces out and work on them on their own, even if they donât really seem to go together. Itâs really a mess.
What does my pattern need from me.
It needs time and love and patience and attention but less attention than I think because it kind of wants to work itself out on its own and sometimes when I focus on it, it makes it stop what itâs doing and get more knotted up.
What do I need right now.
I need love and a kitten (editor’s note: this totally stopped me – I don’t think I need a kitten. I have a dog. Sort of wondering if I meant to say that I need to take up knitting). I need patience and to be willing to sit with things even when I feel strange or poorly or donât understand whatâs going on.
What if I had permission, in my actual life just as in Shiva Nata, to do everything wrong.
I wouldnât be making such a big deal out of this. I could try doing my thing, and if it didnât work out, Iâd do something else. And if that didnât work out, Iâd do something else. I wouldnât worry so much about this all because I would understand that doing something wrong doesnât mean the world will end.
Whatâs missing.
That permission. I feel like I need someone to give me that permission, when actually I need to give it to myself. And the part of me that wants to give me permission is being held back by the part of me that thinks I need to get it from someone else. I need to let that small part come forward. Itâs being blocked by a rather large gorilla. Maybe if I feed the gorilla a banana, he will be willing to take a break for a while.
.-= Elizabeth´s last blog ..it’s the little things =-.
First, a note for discriminating readers. Did you know that if you type fluent elf (dot) com into your browser, you get an error message? That just seems *so* wrong. There must be elves at Hoppy House. Havi?
Next, âWhat if I had permission, in my actual life just as in Shiva Nata, to do everything wrong âŠ?â Wow. Eye opener time. Because I never guilt myself if I’m not doing it. And when I do it I laugh my way though how hopelessly bad I am at it, and even love myself for my confusion. And, in case you think I am on some advanced level I am still *learning the arm positions* That’s all! My brain injured brain which can’t tell right from left and is afraid I’ll fall out of cars if the sun roof is open is having epiphanies and a rollicking good time just from Double 1, Double 2. How CAN I live my actual life like that?
Finally, I’ve been using eft to work thru layers lately. Layers and layers. Always surprising. Cleansing and freeing. It’s what I wish for you, too.
.-= Mahala Mazerov´s last blog ..The Bowl of Stars â A Guided Meditation =-.
Woah. This is enough to coax me out of my little place in Lurkerville, darling.
*deep breath* I present the Reader’s Digest Version of my answers here.
What does my stuff look like? A box with me in it. No windows or doors. It’s remarkably uncomplicated and I know why it’s there.
What does my stuff need from me? To provide myself with a safer way of being in the world. A psychological window or door would do. An escape hatch? One that actually works and doesn’t jamb.
What do I need right now? Allowing myself to be in the box (without chastising or hating myself) until I can devise some safer methods of being in the world.
What if I had permission to do anything wrong? Oh boy. We’re talkin’ freedom, space, opportunity, fun, unlimited possibilities!
What’s missing? The ability to live without apology, justification and explanation for my eccentric, awkward, beautiful, wacky, smart, daft amazingness.
Self: What?! THAT’S IT?!
Me: Yeah, that’s it.
Self: Then let’s cut a damn door NOW and get “Free” tattooed on our person today!
Me: Sure! But only if I get to have that amazing sugar-free Dutch chocolate cake on the way home :oD
Holy shitabrickamus. And gosh too.
Thanks, honey.
Like a lot of others here, I’ve been doing the morning pages for a while. So this morning, I just moved them to post yoga-and-Shiva-Nata. The stuff that came up kind of amazed me. Surprised me. My answers…they were long. So I threw the whole thing up on my blog (so as not to be so long-winded here).
But the big a-ha! for me? The patterns are waves, like an ocean, and I can’t isolate them. One can’t be removed and looked at without all the others being affected too.
And if I keep flailing around in the water like this? I might drown in these waves. But to cool thing is that I’m buoyant. If I would stop fighting and let myself float, I might start to appreciate the beauty of this ride a bit more…
.-= Emily´s last blog ..Ride Those Waves! =-.
Just wanted to say thank you, because those questions inspired several pages of journal writing and the most delicious epiphany of my life. One which I’d been working on, needing, for a week or two, so many, many thanks.
xxxx
Jessica
Wow. The word permission really hit me hard. Permission to do everything wrong and still be loved for it. That is what I need. Let me screw it up my own special way and let me still love myself. Wow.
P.S. Thanks Havi for sharing how your mind works because I feel normal when I read your work.
I’ve had the experience of creative freedom through letting go of trying, which is, I think, related to “free writing.” The key is to lose the part of the self that *wants* something to happen.
How many times have I sat down to write prose, poetry or a song and sat for hours feeling I had nothing to say, until I had passed the point of expecting anything — at which point it arrived.
Thanks for the inspiration, Havi.
martin