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}

You guys! You guys! THREE HUNDRED CONSECUTIVE WEEKS OF CHICKEN.

We are having a party. Except since I am an introverted hider and can’t handle parties, it is more like: we are celebrating very quietly and there are balloons and streamers and we are all saying (yay).

If you had told me three hundred chickens ago that I would stick with this for years, and that it would become an amazing safe space for so many of us to process and share, and that I would have real-life friends that I met through Friday-Chickening, I would never have believed it. But here we are, and it is beautiful.

(yay!)

What worked this week?

Two (two!) transition days.

Operation Bell View ended on Sunday night but I built in TWO entire days for recovery.

I hid out at Agent Rosie’s safe house, and it was basically the best thing in the entire world.

There was a bathtub and there were cute dogs and there was a warm, soft bed, which I basically didn’t get out of for two whole days, except to take long baths and then go right back to sleeping.

Thank you, Agent Rosie for offering this, and thank you, past-me, for saying yes. This whole experience was treasure, which is related to the secret mission of Operation Bell View: What Happens When I Treasure Myself?

It turns out that taking time to recover from an intense experience not only is treasure (and treasuring myself, which is more treasure), but it enhances my ability to reveal-and-receive the treasures of the experience itself.

Next time I might…

Ask.

Asking resulted in so many good things for me this week. For example, I asked on the blog for a ride to Bellevue for Operation Bell View and I got one. Also I asked the hotel to call me if they found my sweater in the ballroom, and they did.

Also not asking worked well for me: Agent Rosie offered me a safe house that I didn’t even know I needed.

However, right now I am noticing that I only ask for help once I have Exhausted All The Other Options. I would like to see what happens when I ask for help and support as a practice.

Asking sooner. Not attached to the result. Just finding out what my options are instead of trying to do it all myself and only asking when I am completely sure I can’t manage on my own.

Also: noticing all the beautiful unasked for things, saying thank you for them, replicating them. For example, Agent Rosie left a gallon jug of water on my bedside table: what a gift. The dance convention provided fans (of the kind you wave), another gift.

Eight breaths for the hard, challenging and mysterious.

  1. Hahaha, recovery is hard work. I mean, on the surface what I’m doing doesn’t look like hard work: napping and taking baths. But all the stuff happening below and inside. Big movement. Big thoughts. Big decisions surfacing. A breath for process, and for trusting the process.
  2. Triggered. A breath for remembering that Now Is Not Then.
  3. The Spy is going away on a very long secret op (very long, as in: years) that will involve zero contact with the outside world. Not for a while, but there is a date, and it is happening. I feel so joyful for him, I am thrilled about this incredible opportunity, and I support his mission wholeheartedly. And I am going to miss the hell out of him. A breath for letting go.
  4. I want a thing, and do not currently see how it is possible for me to pursue it. A breath for honoring desire, giving it space, trust, patience.
  5. On the way back from Operation Bell View I ordered a salad (spinach, goat cheese, walnuts, strawberries). The menu didn’t say candied walnuts, but they were! I haven’t eaten sugar in fourteen years and two months, and half a walnut launched me into a heart-pumpingly high hyper ride that made the three hour journey back to Portland very….interesting. And jittery. A breath for an unexpected, unpleasant, scary moment.
  6. I have more intel about what I want, but it involves More Work, and I do not want More Work, and I do not know how to make this happen any other way. A breath for waiting for more intel.
  7. Unexamined sexism showing up all over the place at the dance convention, and went completely unchallenged. It drove me crazy, and even more crazy when you mention it to people and they have no idea what you’re talking about, aren’t bothered by it, and their suggestions for how to handle it are just absurd. A breath for frustration, and for a whole world that needs to change, and needs all of us to be a part of that change.
  8. Inhale, exhale. Goodbye, mysteries and hard moments of this week.

Eight breaths of good, reassuring, delight-filled.

  1. Operation Bell View! It was even more amazing than I allowed myself to wish for. I had lots of conflicted thoughts about going. Now I have zero conflicted thoughts: it was 100% the best thing ever, and I am so glad I did it. A breath for gratitude, pleasure, over-the-top bliss.
  2. BUBBLINESS! The superpower of Effervescence from the Calendar of Salves has kicked in for me big time. I have basically been feeling bubbly all week. Bubbly and calm, a beautiful combination. A breath for appreciation.
  3. I was able to go to a four day dance convention, an insanely intense experience, and really and truly take care of myself the entire time. I gave myself permission to skip everything that wasn’t good for my force field (competitions, performances, hanging out, elevators). I took naps and gave myself yoga and put myself in the bath at every possible opportunity. A breath for having finally learned to treasure this body that is my home.
  4. Going to bed at 8 so I could get up at 2:30am and dance. Dancing until 6:30 in the morning. A breath for pleasure.
  5. A champion dancer asked me to dance. Twice. And then we did. Which is kind of like saying, a unicorn asked me to dance and then we danced. It was fun. Haha, fun. Fun is a tiny, stupid, useless word that doesn’t even begin to describe it. It was incredible. Now I know what people mean when they describe a dance as transcendent, taking you to another place. I can’t really describe it, but it was kind of like being suspended in time? If time = delight? Or cocaine? Magic cocaine delight time suspension? Words are not the equal of this experience. It was like floating, but also like moving through a rich liquid, and as everything my body did was perfect because the signals were so clear that I was feeling what was happening instead of doing what I was being told. A breath for remembering forever what that felt like.
  6. A long recovery bath that was nothing short of life-changing. A breath for letting go and letting go and letting go.
  7. My purple sweater! It is my favorite sweater, and I left it in the ballroom at the hotel last Thursday night. Went to the hotel Lost and Found every day, nothing. Sunday morning I filled out an inquiry form at the desk in case they found it. By Tuesday afternoon when I hadn’t heard anything, I let it go and had my sad and wished that whoever has it receive much joy from it. An hour later there was a message from the hotel: they found it! The superpower of All That Is Mine Returns To Me. Thank you. A breath for this sweet miracle.
  8. So much appreciation and thankfulness. Solomon, who gave me a ride while his dog napped on my lap and we listened to the rain. Everyone who danced with me at Seattle Easter Swing. A late night conversation with a friend in the desert. Agent Rosie’s beautiful dogs. Long Slow Deep in the hotel room. The red bracelet. The back-up shoes. Having packed the exact right amount of snacks. Getting lots of writing done on the bus. The Spy getting his good news during Operation Bell View: our missions were connected. The best welcoming-home. 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 completed Operation Bell View. It was amazing. Still working on Operation KLM and Sea Sky Dance Play. Big progress on the Mission of Xs and Ys. WHAM BOOM.

Superpowers!

Powers I had this week…

I had the superpower of taking exquisite care of myself (I have wanted this one forever, see previous chickens!), and the superpower of Knowing When.

Superpowers I want.

Welcome confidence. Both in the sense that I welcome confidence, and that I feel welcome and confident, and that these are related.

And the superpower of Extreme Sexy Fearlessness is working for me, so I will re-seed that one as well.

Salve. The Salve of Everything is a Salve.

A very special salve for our three hundredth Chicken, and this salve is a little meta, yes.

When you rub this salve into your skin, you suddenly remember that everything contains qualities, and everything holds the possibility for healing.

So then you go through your day and you are surrounded by salves. A breath of fresh air fills you with Possibility. Touching the wall grounds you with Steadiness. Rubbing your hands releases a chain reaction of Sweetness. Washing your hands activates Release.

Suddenly you are surrounded by all the right salves. That sign on the storefront that says OPEN is secretly a salve of Opening. That red stoplight is a salve of Rest.

This salve is a key, because it unlocks secret translations. The truth is, everything already was a salve. But once you dip your fingers into the Salve of Everything Is A Salve, you can feel all the other salves….

Enjoy.

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 also from Lucky Lola (like last week), and also from Maryann and the Vicar, and it is called Bunny Fufu and the Candy Corvettes.

They play rockabilly striptease music (think slow jive), and actually they are 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