What's in the gallery?
We dissolve stuck and rewrite patterns. We apply radical playfulness to life (when we feel like it!), embarking on internal adventures (credo of Safety First). We have a fake band called Solved By Cake. We build invisible sanctuaries, invent words and worlds, breathe awe and wonder.
We are not impressed by monsters. Except when we are. We explore the connections between internal territories and surrounding environment to learn what marvelously supportive delicious space feels like, and how to take exquisite care of ourselves. We transform things.* We glow wild.**
* For example: Desire, fear, worry, pain-and-trauma, boundaries, that problematic word which rhymes with flaweductivity.
** Fair warning: Self-fluency has been known to lead to extremely subversive behavior, including treasuring yourself unconditionally, unapologetically taking up space, experiencing outrageously improbable levels of self-acceptance, and general rejoicing in aliveness.
What's in the gallery?
We dissolve stuck and rewrite patterns. We apply radical playfulness to life (when we feel like it!), embarking on internal adventures (credo of Safety First). We have a fake band called Solved By Cake. We build invisible sanctuaries, invent words and worlds, breathe awe and wonder.
We are not impressed by monsters. Except when we are. We explore the connections between internal territories and surrounding environment to learn what marvelously supportive delicious space feels like, and how to take exquisite care of ourselves. We transform things.* We glow wild.**
* For example: Desire, fear, worry, pain-and-trauma, boundaries, that problematic word which rhymes with flaweductivity.
** Fair warning: Self-fluency has been known to lead to extremely subversive behavior, including treasuring yourself unconditionally, unapologetically taking up space, experiencing outrageously improbable levels of self-acceptance, and general rejoicing in aliveness.
Friday Chicken #276: not really about lip gloss
It is Friday and we are here.
{a breath for Friday}
What worked?
The word CONVICTION.
Not in a religious sense.
Just the feeling of deeply knowing. And also the word itself was a clue for me.
Letting Incoming Me call the shots.
I let Honey the Bounty Hunter (long story!) be at the front of the V. She chose my clothes. She told me what to do. She figured out what I needed when I was feeling hurt and upset.
And she had me drink a lot of tea. I’m not sure why. Pretty much any time I asked her what needed to happen, she told me to drink my tea.
Drinking tea.
Ginger. Egyptian licorice. Tulsi rose.
It was warming, comforting, replenishing and refreshing. She was right. It helped.
Shabbat with friends.
And singing.
Next time I might…
Take a day off.
And remember that closet-clearing is identity-shifting, and it stirs up all the dust.
Eight breaths for the hard, challenging and mysterious.
- Another infuriating situation with the chocolaterie. So many upset and hurt feelings about this. A breath for big emotion, and for legitimacy.
- The owner of the building promised that [thing X] would never happen, and that [thing Y] would not happen again. Not only did both X and Y happen, but we were not informed or warned about it. A breath for feeling extremely Alabama Crimson.
- I am learning so many things right now, and it is hurting my head. A breath for being at the beginning.
- A straw is such a light thing. That’s why we keep putting them on camels. A breath for everyone I know being overloaded, a breath for recognition and ease.
- Filters of perception that make now look like then when in fact now is not then. A breath for comfort.
- So. Much. To. Do. A breath for trust.
- Change is/can be scary. A breath for being in the middle of it.
- Inhale, exhale. Goodbye, mysteries and hard moments of this week.
Eight breaths of good, reassuring, delight-filled.
- I thoroughly reorganized my closet. A breath for new openings.
- Clues everywhere. A breath for discovery and excitement. I’m on the trail!
- Lovely things in the mail. A postcard from my mother. A letter from TJ. A breath for sweetness.
- Incoming me picked out all my clothes this week, and I allowed myself to really enjoy getting dressed. A breath for being okay with being seen.
- If dance is a language, I am now at the point in west coast swing where I understand when someone gives me directions. I may not be an especially interesting conversationalist yet and I can only talk about a very limited number of topics, but I am having conversations. A breath for the magic of learning.
- My fellow agent and I got an accidental private dance lesson again. A breath for gifts.
- Marisa and I had a writing day together, and I resolved a big stuck and finished the latest book! A breath for companionship.
- I am filled with appreciation for so many things, many of which are absolutely astonishing. A breath for seeing how much good is in my life, even when things are hard.
WHAM BOOM! Operations completed.
This week was all about very large ops and very small ops.
Sometimes the very small ones ended up being not very small at all, or they did not feel small, or they were important in their smallness.
For example, Operation How About You Put Some Clothes On You’ll Feel Much Better was a marked success, but it took three hours to get there. And that’s okay. All timing is right timing.
What else? Oh right, I finished another one of the Y.E.A.R. books! Wham boom.
The ongoing mission of Pause Every 5 Minutes And Sip Your Tea-
Operation Emerge. Operation: Life of a Chocolatier Part XUndercover: It’s In The BathOperation Salve/Salve IIOperation Danceful x2
WHAM! BOOM!
Superpowers!
A superpower I had this week…
The superpower of being brave.
And the superpower of clues showing up exactly when I needed them!
When I was at the Playground, I pulled a stone skipping card that said “take 5 steps backwards”, so I did, literally. And suddenly right in front of me was the biggest clue ever.
Then on Wednesday when I was having the hardest day, bam! Two clues out of the blue.
And a superpower I want next week.
The same one I asked for last week: the twin superpowers of graciously letting go and graciously receiving.
Salve.
The salve of I Have What I need.
I don’t really know how to explain this salve other than in very indirect ways. Which maybe makes sense because this is a particularly indirect salve.
I will tell a story to give an example of the feeling of this salve:
Last week I bought a lip gloss, and as soon as I opened it I realized it was not the color for me. I put it down on the table at Rally, and then an hour later Elizabeth said, “I have to go out and meet someone and I am urgently wishing I had lip gloss.”
And lo, there it was, this brand new lip gloss that I did not want! She was so delighted to have it, and I was so delighted to give it to her, and the whole thing was so simple and easy. But then I thought, petulantly, why does this not happen for me? Where is my magically-appearing lip color?
I walked to the post office to pick up a package I’d ordered, and for some inexplicable reason, the company had included a lipstick from some company they were promoting. Even though the package contained a windbreaker. And this lipstick was the exact-right color for a Havi, and now I have the thing I needed.
This feeling of “oh, hey, I have what I need and it is so simple” is the feeling that you get when you rub this salve into your skin.
Obviously life causes us to deal with bigger and much more urgent needs than what I am describing, but the feeling of “oh, I am okay” and “somehow this worked out in a way I couldn’t have expected” is the same. Suddenly everything is a little easier, a little more hopeful. It is a salve of Comfort, Hope and Possibility.
If you are not a salve person (today or in general), you can have this in tea form or in pill form or as a shower or 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!
This week’s band comes by way of Anna:
Staffed By Elves
It’s like a trance version of Riverdance. Though, somehow, it is actually just one guy.
Hallo Hallo! I am saying Hallo Hallo. ANNOUNCEMENT.
You guys you guys you guys!
I have some things that are on the verge of being announcement-ready, but nothing for today. Soon-soon!
AND. If you know people in Portland and you can help spread the word about our Red Rose Ballroom or help do that on facebook, that would be hugely appreciated!
Come play if you like…
Join me in the comments. Some of us share hard and good, some of us check in with a hi or a ♡, 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.
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.
What is more astonishing?
I keep looking at the unfinished question.
It is half a question. Or a whole question, half-asked. Like a croissant with a bite out of it, just sitting on a plate.
Or maybe it is the finished question. Finished as in: ready. Ready for me. Maybe it’s all I need to ask:
What is more astonishing?
Yes, Havi. What is more astonishing?
I found this question one morning, scribbled on a post-it next to my bed, and laughed for a very long minute.
It’s like a Richard Brautigan poem, from that very specific category of “Things a regret-filled alcoholic writes down, finds later, is intrigued by, recognizes as poetry”.
Of course, the original question I intended to write and didn’t finish might easily have been more along the lines of: “What’s more astonishing, that Chris Pratt has an entirely new body or that the Tile app is a thing that exists, or will?”
But I don’t know. I don’t have an X or a Y to compare. All I have is the question, and I love it.
So I’m going to ask it. I will let it reverberate, like a stone skipping across the water.
What is more astonishing?
That I spent ten years devoting my life to bringing a very particular dance into the world but didn’t think of myself as a dancer. A dance instructor maybe, but not a dancer.
And now I don’t teach that dance anymore. (Well, except secretly at Rally, but that isn’t actually teaching so much as playing).
But you know what? I am more of a dancer than I ever was before. I am at home in dance.
I am at home in dance again. In the sense that I have returned to being a dancer. I have returned to my gazelle roots.
What is more astonishing?
That I am a dancer who suddenly has a ballroom. With the best dance floor in town.
I have a ballroom. I have a BALLROOM. I have a Ballroom.
What is more astonishing?
That oh, maybe six or seven years ago, in Berlin, I was slowly climbing the stairs to an old dusty ballroom. Trembling, because I knew this was the most thrilling and important moment of my life even though I didn’t know why.
I walked in, felt its pull, looked up at the chandeliers entwined in masses of cobwebs, and burst into tears.
It was the strongest emotion I have ever felt in my entire life.
I stood on the low stage, filled with awe, and whispered: I have danced here. I have danced here.
It wasn’t true because I had never been there, but it was true, because I remembered it.
The next day I went back and the ballroom was being renovated. Cleaned up and modernized. No more cobwebs. I had been with it on its last day as what it had been. What it had been when I had danced there in my memories and dreams.
I had arrived just in time for the goodbye. And now I have a ballroom of my own.
What is more astonishing?
That I was not thinking about any of this when I suddenly acquired a ballroom. In fact, I tried to make my ballroom into a [magical bookshop, let’s say] instead of letting it be a ballroom.
That is astonishing too.
What is more astonishing?
That my ballroom is the Red Rose.
I always thought I didn’t like roses, but then I moved to the Rose City almost six years ago, and then one thing happened and then another thing, and now I am mad about roses.
A song just came on in the cafe I am in and it is a song about roses. It was a sweet moment.
What is more astonishing?
That I don’t want to wear black and grey anymore.
What is more astonishing?
That I ended a relationship and doing this was the scariest thing I have ever done, because who am I without this and how can I be happy without this.
And nothing is wrong.
I still have this person, I still have this love, I still have all the things I need. Just in a new configuration. Everything reconfigures. And I am okay.
And if I had lost this person, I would still be okay. That is astonishing.
What is more astonishing?
That I am looking forward to being 37. A smoking hot 37. This number suddenly appeals to me greatly.
What is more astonishing?
That I suddenly have two mathematicians in my life. Me, who barely has fourth grade math skills.
What is more astonishing?
That I am admitting to myself that I care deeply about things that I have always cared about but pretended not to.
Dancing, for one thing. Clothing and costumes. Adoration. Thankfulness. Flowers.
What is more astonishing?
That I am suddenly ready to care less about other things.
Even more astonishing: I think I’m finally ready to let go of the need to care what everyone else might be thinking about the other things. Or about me…
Because caring what they think and worrying about what they are possibly thinking falls under the category of Not My Job.
I’m quitting that job. I keep agreeing to come back, but I’m quitting.
It’s hard when you were raised in a culture that thinks this is a very important job and also that it should be your job.
It is astonishing that we put up with that.
What is more astonishing?
That suddenly I want to be seen.
In all kinds of different ways.
What is more astonishing?
Actually, it is even more astonishing than that, because not only do I have this sudden unlikely desire to be seen, I also want to be more invisible than I have ever wanted before.
It’s almost as if the ways I want to be seen and invisible are not just different than they used to be, but reversed.
I used to want to be seen in my business, seen as a teacher, seen as a leading expert of the [Tree of Life] practice. A being seen that was about authoritative presence.
But to be invisible in my personal life: anonymous, free to slip by without being noticed. An invisibility that was about safety and comfort.
Now I want my Ballroom to be seen by people who need it, and the techniques and concepts that I play with to be seen by people who need them. But I don’t want to be at the front of the room anymore. In fact, I don’t want to even be in a world where there’s anyone at the front of the room.
I want us to play, together, as equals. Not with me as the leader. Without being projected onto, without being cast in the role of the person who knows stuff. We all know stuff.
But in my personal life? I want to wear tight gold pants. I want to shine. I want to dance all night and to carry my beautiful, quiet, steadily humming glow with me everywhere I go.
Yes, this is astonishing.
What is more astonishing?
That I have been silent for nearly a year now, and this has been one of the most creative periods I have ever experienced.
That the quieter I get, the more my heart overflows with sweetness.
That I have an imaginary chocolate shop, which is also filled with sweetness.
That I had to get this quiet to let other things get louder.
What is more astonishing?
That my whole life is full of absolutely astonishing things, and I am apparently oblivious to this, blithely walking through my astonishing life and not even noticing.
What is more astonishing?
That pretty much everything in my life fell apart over the last two years, and I am actually suddenly, much to my surprise, kind of okay with all that. Kind of happy about it, even.
Or let’s say that differently:
I am discovering an astonishingly thankful heart. Along with the me who trusts that all timing is right timing.
I am uncovering appreciation for the way I lost the things I lost, and appreciation for the parts that are not lost at all. I am looking at the broken pots, and loving them, deeply. Roses for the broken pots. Roses for the new containers. Roses for all of it.
Play with me?
You can ask this (astonishing) question yourself if you like, and discover what is more astonishing.
You can share sparks sparked for you. You can leave love and flowers.
Commenting culture: we are on permanent vacation from caretaking and advice-giving. We let people have their own experience, and we are kind, both to ourselves and each other.
Love, as always, to the commenter mice, the Beloved Lurkers and everyone who reads. The fact that you are all here to keep me company counts as another astonishing thing that I appreciate greatly.
postscript.
This post is an (edited) excerpt from one of my Year Books for my Year of Emptying And Replenishing, where I model process/techniques in a more intimate way than on the blog. Currently deciding if these should be made available for purchase on their own, or just with next year’s program, which has not been named yet. Let me know if you have an inclination.
Visions #226: when wanting is hard
Personal ads. They’re … personal! Very.
Each week I write these Visions of Possibility and Anticipation to practice asking for what I want. And to get clarity on what that really is, even when asking feels conflicted.
I always get useful information about my relationship with various aspects of the ask. Join in if you like!
Wanting is such a funny thing, isn’t it.
Such a funny, complex, highly-charged thing.
I have been doing this ritual every week for four and a half years now, and I keep re-discovering just how loaded it is to want something.
Sometimes the wishes that seem incredibly simple can be the most fraught.
Desire is about identity and change. All kinds of Stuff hiding out in there.
Anyway, this week I thought my wish was a straightforward one — it has to do with a gym bag that has particular characteristics.
A gym bag. What’s the big deal, right? An obtainable and relatively inexpensive item that could make a number aspects of my daily life both easier and more congruent.
I made some notes about the bag, and then ran smack into an ambush of what seemed like hundreds of different monsters, including some familiar faces like You Are A Spoiled Brat and Why Can’t You Just Make Do.
And a very quiet one, more like a wall, who believes that Wanting Is Dangerous, and that this one in particular should be kept under wraps.
So I was sitting patiently with the wall, getting to know it, because the wall is not the impediment to the destination, and stuff got a little weird, as it sometimes does.
I kept with it, because I believe hard in the transformative power of rabbit holes. Especially when the monsters start jumping up and down and yelling, “Distraction! Procrastination!”.
Yup. That’s definitely a sign I’m onto something important.
I discovered some deep identity stuff that had to do with PLACE. Or: with being at home in my life, in the context of living in a particular place.
It started with one of my time gremlins saying if I had a car, I wouldn’t need this bag to fill so many functions. And if I had a car, I wouldn’t need to live in Portal Land, because one of the reasons for Portal Land is that it is a great place to be someone who doesn’t want a car.
Not that I’m leaving Portal Land any time in the near future that I know of. I have a ten year lease on the imaginary chocolate shop, and I own a house, and my friends are here, and I love the bridges and the rivers and Rally. Mostly I love Rally. But I was seriously asking myself if living here is what I want, and I got there from the gym bag.
Do you see? Wanting is a big, complex thing. No wonder I avoid peeking at my wishes. They hold so much.
So let’s play. What do I want.
Starting with the qualities.
The reason this wish about the bag is so complicated is that the bag has become an accidental proxy for Big Questions About Identity And Purpose And Belonging.
Which is apparently what I need to be processing right now, and if it weren’t the bag, something else would be bringing this up for me.
So if it’s not about the bag (but it also is very much about the bag), what are the qualities I want in the bag?
Because I think it’s a safe bet that the qualities I want the bag to have will show me what I want in my life in general.
I want:
Ease. Spaciousness. Freedom. Options. Play. Pleasure. Delight. Glowing.
And…since desire is legitimate, what if it is okay for me to want these things, in a variety of different forms?
And then maybe a name for it.
Gym bag is kind of funny, since I don’t actually go to a gym.
I take a lot of dance classes. And I like to get down on the floor to have/be yoga, and I also like to dress like Bond Girl, so I require a couple of different clothing options at all times.
Plus I don’t have any positive associations with gym bags.
If I metaphor mouse this, my associations with [gym bag] include things like +sweaty, +gross, +heavy, +weighed down, +bulky, +inelegant.
The thing I want is not like that. The thing I want is sleek, sexy, easy to use, saves me time and doesn’t hurt my shoulder. It is its own kind of costume. And it is a home for things that need homes.
What does this make me think of? Well, spies need to be prepared. Mission-ready. This bag is about being mission-ready. And feeling comfortable and confident while embarking on whatever adventures are in store.
This bag is an ally for me. It is packed by Barrington. It exists to help me, and I want to meet it.
It might not have a name yet, but it will.
Details about the Bag That Does Not Yet Have A Name.
It does a variety of things.
It has to have a separate compartment to hold my dance shoes. Ideally two separate compartments, one for dance shoes and one for socks and sports bras. Yes, plural.
It needs outside pockets, so I have easy access to pen and paper if I need.
It needs to close, and it needs to be waterproof, because I live in Portal Land.
It needs to be able to hold a water bottle, notebook, change of clothes, and possibly a few other things.
I have bags that do these things, and the one I was using this morning fits this description. But walking with it for twenty minutes to the bus stop hurts my back.
It can’t be a purse or even a cross-body bag, because sometimes I’m carrying a lot of things, and I can feel my shoulders reacting to the weight. It really needs to be a backpack or something super comfortable to wear.
But also be attractive and sexy. Oh hi there, You Are Never Satisfied With Anything monsters.
Anything else I know about this?
I often think that what I want (whatever it happens to be) is impossible, and that I am the only person who has a need for it.
I want to remind myself that someone has already invented this. It exists. It is obtainable. And it probably isn’t a big deal, it only feels like it is because so much is tied up in the wanting.
So there it is. What I am really wanting (the want behind the want) is permission to want seemingly disparate things. I want to believe, always, that many things are possible. I want to remember that there are options and perfect simple solutions. And that it is okay for me to wish for them.
What might help?
Throwing it all into the pot. Wearing a costume. Interviewing the me who has solved this.
Treating it like another element of going on missions.
Asking you guys for recommendations and links to look at.
What I want.
Some of these are secret agent code or silent retreat. Some are qualities and some are dreams. Some are re-asks and some are pre-wishes: tiny seeds for future processing.
- Progress on the ops!
- Miracles everywhere.
- Regular gigs at the ballroom, which is also the Spiegelsaal.
- This doesn’t require my input!
- Ha, it’s so perfect that it turned out like this.
- Past me is a GENIUS.
- I have what I need, and I appreciate it.
- There is money for this.
- I can see why this moment is good.
- Trust and steadiness.
- Hawaii.
This week’s ops?
This week might be about finishing up the dossier of The life of a Chocolatier, and it might be about the Book of Salves. It is definitely still about borders/boundaries, and about dancing.
I’m playing with…
Dance. Nap. Bath. Tea. Compass. Spirals. Taking care of myself.
Requests and announcements!
This year’s 26 Rallies are mostly full, but there are eight Rallies that have openings. Take a look at the new page…
I would also like support for our magical Red Rose Ballroom — likes on Facebook is great, as is spreading the word to anyone you know who might want to have an event, program, party, anything at all in Portland…
Progress report on past Very Personal Ads.
So. Last week, aka I want to write…
I wrote at Rally. Not any of the writing I thought I’d do, but other writing. Different writing. I skipped a lot of stones, and that was amazing.
And I learned some incredibly useful things about Eve Wild, who is Rocker Me, who is the me that Honey the Bounty Hunter was searching for.
Thank you, writing. Thank you, me who asked.
Playing. Shelter for the comments.
What’s welcome: Your own wishes, gwishes, visions and personal ads, small or large. Updates on past ones if you like. Things sparked for your own process.
I’m receptive to warm wishes for the things I’m working on and playing with.
We ask for what we need, and we give each other space and spaciousness for the process.
This is a place of safety for creative play and exploration, with a very non-dogmatic approach. We don’t tell each other how to ask for things and we don’t give unsolicited advice. We play.
That’s it. Let’s throw a bunch of things in the pot!
As always, amnesty applies. Leave a wish here any time you want.
xox
Friday Chicken #275: hello there, November!
It is Friday and we are here.
{a breath for Friday}
What worked?
Flowers.
Flowers make everything better.
I know this, and then I forget it.
Also if you have a bouquet of flowers, you can split it up into a dozen or so tiny jars and vases all around the house, and then you have flowers everywhere, making everything better not just in general but in all the places at once.
This week I got Flowers From Floopers (my favorite thing!) and I-love-you-flowers that did double-duty as apology-flowers.
Flowers were a clew.
Dressing up.
This week was Rally (Rally!), and it was Rally C and I was there as Honey the Bounty Hunter.
I kind of assumed Honey the Bounty Hunter would dress like Rocker Me. But it turns out that she likes to wear fitted dresses and Bond Girl boots. Honey the Bounty Hunter is a grown up — a super sexy one, and ridiculously confident. Costumes are everything, again.
She got to be in charge of my Rally projects, and she knew exactly what to do with them. Laissez les bon temps roulez!
Next time I might…
Pause for eight breaths.
Be the compass.
Eight breaths for the hard, challenging and mysterious.
- Someone who loves me very much said a thing that was so incredibly cruel (or perceived that way by me) that I actually went into shock, and for about twenty minutes nothing in the world made sense. It reminded me of the time my beloved mentor suddenly turned on me. Like the floor had suddenly disappeared. A breath for pain.
- All week I kept filtering experiences through this person’s words, suddenly viewing a variety of my day-to-day choices and delights through the eyes of someone who could (possibly, sometimes) see me that way, and it hurt. A breath for releasing this untruth, and for whatever needs to happen to heal this.
- Sometimes it seems like there are not enough hours in the day to skip all the stones I want to skip. A breath for desiring more time to process and explore.
- In a dance class: answering yes when the answer was no. A breath for the perception of not being able to explain myself.
- My quiet daily yoga ritual disappeared this week due to [factors]. A breath for missing the thing that helps.
- Cultural stuff. A breath for outsider complex. Whoosh! Elevator shaft!
- I uncovered an entire storage closet of shame. A breath for all the things that want to be released.
- Inhale, exhale. Goodbye, mysteries and hard moments of this week.
Eight breaths of good, reassuring, delight-filled.
- The person who loves me and said the very hurtful thing knew the exact right way to apologize. A breath for feeling heard and treasured.
- Five hour Whiskey River Jitterbug workshop!!! A breath for Dancer Me getting to play.
- House full of flowers. A breath for beauty.
- Knowing what I want. A breath for forward movement.
- RALLY RALLY RALLY OHMYGOD RALLY. Rally C! I worked on things that have been stuck for months, and all of a sudden they were easy. A breath for magic.
- Improved communication with someone I love. A breath for gifts.
- My wonderfully supportive housemate packed me a delicious lunch each day for Rally, with a homemade pickle too. A breath for feeling deeply cared for.
- My dance partner is just the right dance partner. A breath for feeling safe, playful, and feeling like a gazelle even when I have no idea what I’m doing.
WHAM BOOM! Operations completed.
Operation Emu-
Operation Dru Yearly Mission: Sneakoween aka Invisiween aka HunkerdownoweenUndercover: Flushing OutOperation Salve/Salve IOperation By The Count
WHAM! BOOM!
Superpowers!
A superpower I had this week…
The superpower of being okay with being seen!
(!!!!!)
Yes.
And I also had the Billy Zoom superpowers I asked for last week. Nice!
And a superpower I want next week.
The twin superpowers of graciously letting go and graciously receiving.
Salve.
The salve of letting go.
This salve dissolves internal rules and restrictions so that suddenly you become aware that you already have let go of all kinds of things you didn’t even realize were weighing you down. Whoosh! There they go.
This salve knows that spaciousness and safety are not mutually exclusive. It gives you both at the same time.
If you are not a salve person (today or in general), you can have this in tea form or in pill form or as a shower or whatever works for you. Not only is there enough salve, there are also enough ways to receive it.
Hello, November!
I was feeling a little sad about exiting October, the month of MUCHNESS, with its cheery calendar image featuring a badonkadonk of buttmonsters, and the superpower of finding comfort unexpectedly.
But I turned the page and guess what, I found even more comfort unexpectedly, because November is all about experimentation, which is exactly what I need. Delight!
This month’s quality: CURIOSITY.
November comes in with the superpower of All Experiments Are Useful And Valid, which is pretty much exactly what I need right now.
Hello, November. I’m glad we’re here. Thank you, October, for being lovely.
Playing live at the meme beach house — the Fake Band of the Week!
This week’s band:
Go Lint Yourself
They seem to have a lot of accordions. Which is weird, because I’m pretty sure it’s just one guy.
Hallo Hallo! I am saying Hallo Hallo. ANNOUNCEMENT.
You guys you guys you guys!
I am going to once again loudly (for me) recommend the Monster Manual & Coloring Book., which helped me empty out the shame closets without having to actually go inside of them.
AND. If you know people in Portland and you can help spread the word about our Red Rose Ballroom or help do that on facebook, that would be hugely appreciated!
Come play if you like…
Join me in the comments. Some of us share hard and good, some of us check in with a hi or a ♡, 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.
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.
That’s good enough for me.
C is for the golden compass.
C is for courage.
C is for crown. C is for costumes.
And it’s good enough for me.
By which I mean:
“C is for cookie, that’s good enough for me.”
And also: that it is good. It is good enough. It is good enough for me. It is good enough and it is for me. It works for me.
These are the things that I see when I see C.
These are the things that I see when I see C.
C is also for the chocolate in my imaginary chocolate shop.
And C is for carousel. With a buttmonster riding a C!
C is for Congruence, and up until last week being a chocolatier felt like the most incongruent thing possible, but maybe it isn’t. Maybe I’m wrong. I hope I’m wrong. I think I might be wrong.
C is for course, of course. And for changing course.
So many gorgeous things that come with C.
Spy-words, for one thing….
Like Code. I have a blog and it is written in code! Cryptograph. Contact. Cooperation. Counter-intelligence! Cipher.
Mmmmm, I love this one so much…are you ready for this? Casting. In all sense of the word.
Casting like roles. Casting like iron. Casting like spells. Casting like throwing away and releasing. Let us cast things. Let us cast things off and cast things away.
Oh, and another thing I love. Conviviality, a marvelous word — and superpower — that I will forever associate with Max!
She brought it to Rally (Rally!) a couple years ago, and I can still picture the way she said it with a gigantic smile, as if the very existence of the word was filling her with delight.
C is colors, all the colors! Including cerulean and crimson. C is for coloring in monsters.
Calling in begins with C.
Let’s call in some of the qualities that start with C.
Creativity. Calling. Counsel. Cadence. Calm. Courage. Clasping. Collaboration. Companionship. Community. Conductivity. Connection. Compassion. Communication. Counter-point. Canopy. Competence. Confidence. Courtship. Court! Containers. Containment. Contentment. Cradling. Comfort. Continuity. Commitment. Closeness. Cohesion. Catalyst.
C is cycles and crossing. Coasts and coasting. Caring and being cared for. Celebrating and being celebrated. Charms and feeling charmed.
C is change. C is Choice. C is Clarity. C is being cheered up. And cheering, in general.
C is the superpower of COMPLETION: every thing gets to the point it needs to get to so that I can move on to the next piece.
And another kind of C.
Right now, for me, C is for option C. The Third Way. The thing that is not A-or-B.
So possibly C is for Compromise? Or maybe the third way is something better than compromise.
For me this not-A-and-not-B is about possibility.
The C is a new and delightful way that I haven’t been able to see. It is a seeing — that I can’t C, or maybe a C I can’t see. But it is there. It is the hidden pathway.
And since there may be infinity-pathways, let C stand for:
Any pathway that is both desirable and available to me, but as yet unseen by me.
I want to believe in C! This is my wish.
And I want my C to seem accessible, not far-away or tooth-fairy-like. Not some distant wished-for miracle. An actual viable possibility. Not a ship that might come in some day. Something that is here.
C means: I can step onto the new pathway once I know it exists. Or, I can at least make a path from where I am towards C.
But the most important thing about C is that it exists.
Just because I haven’t thought of it it yet or found it yet does not mean that it is not there. It is there, waiting for me to remember it.
It is on the tip of my tongue. It is just around the corner. It is incoming. It is the other door opening when one closes. There is a world of C that wants me to open my eyes and my heart to it.
It is my sea. My C and my see and my sea!
It is already happening, I think.
Last week was Rally B, the second of this year’s Alphabet Rallies and the 27th ever Rally, I think.
I spent a lot of time with words that start with B, and I was on a reality show that wasn’t real, and I resolved my existential crisis, which was awesome.
And one of the things I learned was that Forgiveness has a silent B. That is, it has a silent BE.
The week of B turned out to be the week of BE.
I am convinced that everything at this week’s Rally — Rally C — will have a silent SEE. And possibly a silent SEA. It will be the week of seeing things I have not seen before.
I can’t wait to find out what that is like.
May it be so! And come play with me.
We can say words that start with C. We can sing C IS FOR COOKIE.
(That’s good enough for me).
If you want to whisper words or sound effects that appeal to you, go for it. If you want to share in any of qualities, you can. They work like the salves in the Friday Chicken: just take some, there is always more.
If you want to throw some superpowers into the pot for Rally, that is welcome.
Waving from the Playground! Whispering loving spells that begin with C, for myself, and for anyone who wants…