Friday chicken

Where I cover the good and the hard in my week, visiting the non-preachy side of ritual and self-reflection.

It is Friday and we are here.

{a breath for Friday}

What worked this week?

Doing the opposite, still, more, again.

Same as last week, just more of it. Noticing when I’m going into habitual behavior, and playing Choose Away. Or: Do The Opposite Thing.

It is getting easier for me to come up with what the opposite thing might be, so that is reassuring.

Also: asking for superpowers. This helped.

Next time I might…

Take a day in.

It’s like a day off, but for turning inward. I would call it an emotional health day, except I hate the way that sounds, like I’m in crisis.

The day I want isn’t for crisis, it is to avoid the need for crisis by taking care of myself before I think I need to.

A sign that I need one of these: too much people time, too much decision making, not enough sleep. This week all of these happened, and I tried to Push Through and get all the work done, and if I get a do-over (superpower of Endless Do-Overs!), I’m taking a day in.

Eight breaths for the hard, challenging and mysterious.

  1. The strap on my dance shoe broke! On the dance floor. In the middle of a song. With hours of dancing left that night. A breath for disappointment and the perception of [missing out], a big theme for sad, scared Havi-from-then.
  2. A thing I was hoping would be very fun turned out to be monster-triggery. A breath for running into a glitch and readjusting.
  3. Last week I wrote: Sometimes you want a thing and you can’t have it — or at least not right now, and maybe not having it is good for you and you still desire it. A breath of comfort and letting that moment of wanting be what it is. Hahaha, this still applies, but more so.
  4. Missing, missing, missing. Sad heart. A breath for sitting with the void.
  5. Things are taking their own timing, and I am impatient. A breath for comfort, for remembering that Nothing Is Wrong.
  6. In the cab, the song playing was Love Isn’t Always On Time. I know. I mean, it is on time, because All Timing Is Right Timing, but this is hard to remember. Also: on time. Dance pun. Anyway. A breath of trust, and for trust.
  7. Old uncomfortable patterns. A breath for patience and slow healing.
  8. I would like way more sleep than I got this week. A breath for rest.
  9. Inhale, exhale. Goodbye, mysteries and hard moments of this week.

Eight breaths of good, reassuring, delight-filled.

  1. I fixed a thing on the computer! By myself! Normally I look it up, get overwhelmed by the horrible world of forum posts and infighting, give up, ask Richard to figure it out. I did it! A breath for ease.
  2. Dance and movement. Waltz brunch. Swing and foxtrot lesson. Lindy hop. West coast swing. Dance aerobics. Gazelle state. A breath for pleasure.
  3. While I didn’t get the response I thought I wanted, I got the response I needed. A breath for all timing is right timing, and for knowing that Nothing Is Wrong.
  4. Practice and more practice. Distance meditations with the Spy. Yoga nidra at Rally. Taking eight breaths. Taking it to the floor. Even the thing that was hardest about this week was easier than it could have been, and I know this is why. A breath for breath changing everything.
  5. Thursday night. A breath for the most delicious surprise.
  6. Skipping stones at Rally (Rally!), and writing as much as I want. Since I always have the perception that I don’t get to write as much as I want, this was delightful. It was Rally L, and my name was Elle and I was riding the El. A breath for asking the right questions.
  7. Held my first dance practicum at the Ballroom. A breath for play!
  8. So many good things. Found the bracelet I was dreaming about. Postcards. Lunch with Julie. Lunch with Anil. Didn’t re-injure my ankle when my dance shoe broke. Sunshine. Black pepper cashews. Things are good. A breath for deep appreciation in my thank-you heart.

WHAM BOOM! Operations completed.

The phrase Whoosh Ha Mastodon Boom is secret agent code that means: this thing is done! It is often shortened to wham-boom. You may also shout (or whisper) other joyous words if you like.

I set up the Pop Up Practicum at the Ballroom. Operation Bell View is pretty much all set up and in place. Last week I said I had put Operation Houston It Is The Vicar on the back burner, and something about saying that immediately got me to work on it, which I did until I reached the point of Okay A Wall. Wanted to work on the Mission of Xs and Ys, and: huge progress. WHAM BOOM. WHAM BOOM.

This week is for the final touches for Operation Bell View, and for Operation Loose Ends, which needs a new name.

Superpowers!

Powers I had this week…

I had the superpower of Remembering That Nothing Is Wrong and the superpower of Changing the Pattern.

Superpowers I want.

More sexy fearlessness please.

Salve. The Salve of Nothing Is Wrong.

This salve is the most magical, to me, because it rewrites all the internal stuff and the external cultural stuff together.

I think rubbing it in will take effort because it is so thick and rich, but then it vanishes into my skin, and my entire body just breathes differently. Softens and releases.

I remember that I am not late. I am not behind. This is the exact right moment for me to be arriving at dance class, ten minutes into it. Rescheduling my appointment with M was perfect. Not cleaning the bath: well done, me who didn’t have time for it.

This one is a tricky one, because it goes against such deep conditioning. Thinking about this concept kind of breaks my brain — I know for sure that some things are very wrong! Luckily this salve works in such a way that it eases this as well. It breathes permission: I am allowed to think that past things were wrong, that wrongs in the world are wrong, and of course bigotry is always wrong and abuse is always wrong, and I don’t have to say yes to everything, and nothing is wrong with that too.

Nothing Is Wrong is about love, permission and safety. I don’t have to be able to understand how it works or how it might be true. I just put on the salve and remember: I am not late, I am not behind, I am not making bad choices. I put on the salve and return to conscious, peaceful, loving awareness: What do I want? How do I want to feel? What will help?

This salve goes beautifully with last-week’s salve of self-forgiveness, they are related.

These salves can’t be seen, but the production factory delivers enough for distribution by way of the magic of the internet, so help yourself. There is enough.

If salve does not appeal, you can have this in tea form, as a bath, cocktail, whatever works for you. Not only is there enough salve, there are also enough ways to receive it.

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 called Cobblestoned and Blabbergasted, they play children’s music but it’s disco! Also it is just one guy.

Attenzione! Attention, AGENTS.

I am deep in an undercover mission to get better at receiving in all forms, or as I’m calling it: Glowing Receptivity and Being Receptive to Glow. Including the skill of gracefully accepting thanks.

It is related to my mission of Coming Out Of All The Closets and sharing about my personal experiences with not-sharing-how-hard-things-are.

If you would like to take a part in this and support me on my mission by sharing sweetness and appreciation for any aspect of my work, I would love that. You can do it with the magic of words, through the comments, or add something to Barrington’s Discretionary fund. (Explanation!)

And if the way you are glowing appreciation is quietly in your heart, I like that too. ♡

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 on silent retreat. My ritual doesn’t have to be your ritual. Whatever works for you. Almost three hundred weeks of this 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, it’s no big deal. And I am blowing kisses to the Beloved Lurkers. I love that you are here too.

The Fluent Self