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 #171: not really a marathon
In which I cover the good stuff and the hard stuff in my week, trying for the non-preachy, non-annoying side of ritual and self-reflection.
And you get to join in if you feel like it.
Chicken!
And I’m in Denver. For roller derby Championships! As wished for in the OOD.
Let’s do this.
The hard stuff
Change.
The experience of Crossing the Line was so completely amazing and transformative.
And everything is different now. EVERYTHING.
I knew that would happen, but I didn’t realize how much.
Having changed in such a substantive way means that stuff that used to work doesn’t work anymore.
I warned my people abut this but forgot that it has the same effect on me too.
So. Lots of system changes. Lots of bringing things into congruence. Things I used to love are now completely unappealing, because they involve less-than-sovereign situations.
Right now being around unsovereign situations is untenable.
Heightened awareness of gaps.
And seeing more clearly what isn’t working, and why.
Expectations.
Blech.
Deadlines.
Rushing to finish the Shiva Nata pages that our ad links to.
Head bump.
Ow.
Travel.
It’s not really my thing.
It’s disorienting. And being squoonched up in an airline seat is distressing. I can actually feel the harm I’m doing to my body just by being there.
And I miss my life and my routines and the Playground.
Though yes, after a year off from going places by plane, it was useful to discover that the whole thing is somewhat less awful than I’d remembered.
The foods..
It seems the Denver suburbs where we are staying for roller derby are not all that familiar with the concept of vegetarianism.
One place was baffled. The other place just gave me the chicken.
And not in the Friday Chicken sense.
Next time I’m packing a suitcase of groceries. Or staying in Boulder.
The good stuff
The Crossing was so amazing, and so are the side effects!
Like being full of love and joy.
Like knowing exactly what I want.
Like having brilliant idea after brilliant idea, and knowing what to do with them too.
You’re coming next year, right? You should. I can’t wait.
A quadzillion epiphanies.
All the shivanauttery from last week is still setting off brilliant, sparkling, humming moments of realization.
I’m remembering things. Seeing all the connections. Reconnecting to the forgotten bits.
Shiva Nata, you guys. Hard core.
Tea!
Yael brought this yummy Tulsi Sweet Rose tea to the Playground, and then Briana mixed it with Egyptian Licorice, and the combination is the most magical thing.
Hooray for tea.
Back to dance class, tentatively.
And the first class back after fourteen days off was not anywhere near the painful nightmare I’d been anticipating.
Bounce!
Planning marvelous things with the first of my partners in crime.
Secret Agent #1.
And doing lots of top-secret marathon-training sessions. (That’s a proxy, of course.)
The Shiva Nata workshop!.
We had two hours together yesterday, and they flew by.
So I will say this:
What lovely, fun, creative people! What joy to flail and sing and hum and twinkle together.
It was a beautiful studio and a beautiful time.
Plus there were sound effects, secret missions, a butt-monster and surprising hidden things about flags.
Thank you, Liz, for the stage and the ride. Thank you, Adrian for giving up your Thursday-off! Thank you, Lucy, for letting us use your studio and taking care of us. Thank you, past Rallions who added to the Playground-ey feel. Thank you, everyone who came. I love you all!
Also, thank you to Leni for saying this:
“You’re here! It’s like a Grateful Dead show and Christmas morning at the same time!”
I’m totally dropping my HAT page and just using that instead.
Comfort.
The hotel room has crazy high ceilings, a lovely view and a large bathtub. Happiness.
Plus Barrington scheduled me a massage, and it was absolutely brilliant. Oh, that Barrington.
Ohmygod Championships! You guys!
This is the most exciting thing imaginable — so thrilling I can hardly stand it.
WE’RE HERE!!!!
Let’s do it, Rose City!
Playing live at the meme beach house — it’s the Fake Band of the Week!
Background? Ez and I make up bands. Stu (retired Bolshevik-fearing voice-to-text software) once translated “people will hate me and be jealous” to “they’ll hang out at my Meme Beach House“. It’s just one guy.
This week’s band also does all their own dancing.
Prairie Dogs in Bowler Hats.
Though, of course, it’s really just one guy.
Hallo Hallo! I am saying Hallo Hallo. Announcement time.
Picture me wearing that crazy hat…
- Reminder: Rally prices are out of date. They’re going up. Also we have TWO spots left for the January Rally. Come play. It will be incredible.
- I highly recommend the Art of Embarking, which is the thing I am most excited about right now. Expect this to be the prerequisite for everything next year.
- Oooh, and registration for the Floating Playground will be opening this month. If you’re not on my HAT list (Havi’s Announcing a Thing), you can sign up on the events page.
I think that’s everything? If not, I’ll add stuff to the Very Personal Ads over the weekend.
That’s it for me …
And of course you can join in my Friday ritual right here in the comments if you feel like it.
Yes? Anything hard and/or good happen in your week?
And, as always, have a glorrrrrrrrrrrrious day, a restful weekend and a happy week to come. Shabbat shalom.
p.s. It’s okay if it’s not Friday anymore. There’s complete chicken amnesty — join in whenever (or not) and it’s no big deal.
I highly recommend doing this.
The reason I was walking around two different airports yesterday wearing a giant fuzzy rainbow snake and carrying a very soft cow with a giant head is actually very simple.
They don’t fit into my luggage.
And Flopsy Cowpers doesn’t like the dark, so the inside of a suitcase would be no place for Flopsy anyway.
Also I was wearing a large purple rose in my hair because I couldn’t find a way to pack it without it getting smooshed.
So I may have been a little odd-looking. Ahahahaaaaaa. A little more odd-looking than usual.
This turned out to be a good thing. An exceptionally good thing.
Wearing a giant snake (with a loopy-but-happy expression and a very pink tongue) actually serves many, equally useful purposes. I need to remember this.
- A giant fuzzy rainbow snake keeps you so warm that you don’t need your coat on the plane! Very cozy.
- Everyone who encounters you smiles a giant smile. They cannot help themselves. Wham. Their day is now slightly better.
- The TSA guy asked if I was studying to be a veterinarian and then couldn’t stop laughing. But happy-laughing. This is the best question I have ever been asked. Also I didn’t have to go through the loathsome machines. Probably unrelated, but I’m going to just go ahead and give the snake credit here.
- The flight attendant also burst into giggles and then asked if she could touch its head. This is also a first. It’s sort of hard to explain how this makes flying more fun but it just does.
- It’s a really great scarf. Better than a scarf, really.
- Also it functions as a neck rest. I did not know that.
- Wearing a giant fuzzy rainbow snake is kind of a sign that announces that you are a total kookypants. It gives you a certain degree of spaciousness.
- There is room for you. Literally because oh, look, a giant fuzzy rainbow snake. People make room for you. But also emotionally and mentally. It’s a buffer. I adore buffers!
- But you also get to meet all the fun people. Because you have secretly winked at them with your snake. So they talk to you. And you can talk to them too. Or not. Either way is okay because no one expects you to be predictable when you’re carrying a cow and wearing a colorful boa. Constrictor.
Weirdly, no one made any “snakes on a plane” jokes. So that was okay.
And here’s the best part.
You know how I completely dread being asked what I do?
And how I turn into a stuttering mess whenever this happens?
Which is why I have to pretend I’m five years old or suddenly announce that I’m on silent retreat, or tell people that I’m an interior-interior designer and/or anInternational Woman of Mystery…
Well, yesterday the woman seated next to me asked what I did, and I just said it:
“I run this center where people go to play! It’s like preschool but for grown-ups! There’s napping and snacks and costumes and toys, and people come there from all over the world to work on secret projects while eating pretzel sticks and finger-painting and singing pirate songs!”
And she said, Oh, of course that’s what you do.
Because it totally made sense. There’s really nothing else I could do. I mean, come on. I’m wearing a giant fuzzy rainbow boa. Constrictor.
And I have a cow. Named Flopsy Cowpers.
I already knew this, of course.
I always say that costumes solve everything. But I hadn’t thought to take myself so literally, you know?
Worth doing, as Nick would say.
This is the only way to travel.
For me, at least. I can’t wait for my next trip!
Yesterday my big plan was to get a suitcase big enough to hold my giant rainbow snake.
Now my plan is to be the person who has the best snake-scarf. And the best cow. And all doors open for her. Because that’s what happened yesterday.
Play with me. In the spacious commenting blanket fort
So. I’m in Denver right now. Hello, Denver.
With Selma. And the Schmoppet. And Flopsy Cowpers. And the snake.
Anyway… this afternoon we’ll be in Boulder!
Teaching a shivanautical workshop and giggling. With twenty seven lovely, lovely people who read this blog.
In the meantime, let’s play!
You can invent airport costumes and traveling costumes and secret missions. Costumes can also be invisible, you know. Some of the best costumes are invisible.
As always, we’re all working on our stuff. We make this a safe space for playing by letting people have their own experience, and not telling each other what to do or how to feel.
Love to you, from me and the Fluent Self menagerie. All the way from Colorado to wherever you are at the moment.
Community.
Today I’m off to Denver!
By imaginary ocean liner. Though I will actually arrive in Denver. That part: not imaginary.
The Denver-ing itself is the result of all sorts of support. Unexpected helper mice being marvelously helpful in a variety of ways.
Like Audrey, who spent hours tracking people down, making calls and getting things sorted so we could run our gorgeous full-page Shiva Nata ad in the program at roller derby Championships.
Or Liz, who offered to drive me and the First Mate from Denver to Boulder, where I’m teaching tomorrow, and then back to our hotel.
Then Taylor offered a house to stay in, which I will totally take her up on the next time I’m in town.
And Leni, who sent a magical postcard offering help and support back when this trip was just a tiny baby wish.
Audrey, Taylor and Liz have all been to Rally (Rally!), and I know Leni from here!
And on short notice.
A couple days ago I realized that we would need some sort of stage after all at my Shiva Nata workshop, and so I asked if anyone had ideas.
Turns out lots of people did. And many of them sent in suggestions to the First Mate.
Liz was able to locate risers at her son’s school.
And Beth has the perfect sized table that you can stand on to teach (and she teaches, so this table has had practice!), and offered to bring it in her car.
Nicole had cinderblocks she could bring if someone else had a board.
It was like having perfect, simple solutions land in front of my feet.
Not just for me, though.
There’s a facebook group for the graduates of Crossing the Line, who spent eight days together at the Playground with me last month. They’re constantly helping each other in the most amazing, silly and unexpected ways.
Last week, three members of my 2009 Kitchen Table program got to hang out together in Montreal.
Two years ago I taught a one-day workshop in Sacramento. Two women who met there have spoken for an hour by phone every week since then to work through business and personal stuff, offer encouragement, brainstorm. Every week for two years.
I see people who have been to Rally (Rally!) with me doing things for each other. Graduates of my Shiva Nata trainings encourage new teachers online.
And commenter mice here have bought each others’ stuff, become friends, visited each other in person. It’s beautiful.
It’s an extraordinary thing.
There isn’t really a word that is good for what I’m trying to describe.
Community is so over-used and it doesn’t seem to hold all the sparkliness.
This is the thing that I have always wanted and didn’t even know I wanted:
A world where there is support, shelter, companionship, warmth, creativity, hilarity, experimentation, amnesty, strength, permission and play for everyone who wants to be there. In a completely sovereign and non-forceful way.
As in: These qualities are available to you in whatever amount and form you desire, but you do not need to partake of them unless you happen to want them.
Not an us-versus-them. Just an optional togetherness where there’s company when you want and need it. With people who are just the kind of people I want to hang out with. Like all of you.
Here’s something I’ve been thinking about lately.
It often happens that biggified bloggers will shut down comments on their blogs. For a variety of perfectly legitimate reasons.
And when this happens, comparisons get made out there in the world-of-blog to my decision three years ago to go on email sabbatical.
I find this fascinating, because — to me — there is no parallel.
Email sabbatical was a way to bring in more spaciousness into my life so that I could spend more time with my people and my world, and be more present with you guys. Together, as a community.
It was a way to open things up so that I can create and write things for us, and spend more time at the local twitter pub and the Frolicsome Bar (our facebook hangout).
It was a move towards connection. Towards a strong, loving, supportive community of people who are all working on their stuff, each in his or her own way, but with the warmth and appreciation of the collective.
There is no one right way.
I’m not trying to say that no-comments is a terrible move. It’s clearly the right solution for some people in some situations.
(And of course any decision related to how you work or write or live is valid. You know what you need.)
There isn’t one way to create a world, forge a vocabulary, go on adventures or build a loving network of support and connection.
There are endless ways.
But I am overjoyed that the way that we have found has turned out like this.
This is the kindest, friendliest and most supportive place on the internet.
One of my favorite things in the world is reading the comments on the Friday Chicken when you guys review your week.
I read every single Very Personal Ad that you guys leave, and make a secret wish for you getting what you want and need. And also for all the people who are silently joining in on their own.
Support is something I have a hard time with. I crave it and resist it. Having this blog and running the Playground has been a gigantic healing for past-me.
You guys have helped me in so many ways, just by being here.
And knowing that I can call on you guys for ideas, reassurance and playtime is the best thing that has ever happened to me.
Tomorrow I will see twenty-seven of you lovely people in Boulder. And then I’ll see more of you at Championships, where Rose City is going to be taking the world of derby apart.
Speaking of awesome communities: derby! You guys! Go to a bout and get involved with your local team!
And the rest of you — someday it will happen. We will get to drink tea together and play at the Playground, and it will be grand.
Until then, please know that you are appreciated and adored by me. Even if you’ve never commented. Even if you don’t ever plan to buy anything.
Even if you have no idea what I’m talking about half the time.
The fact that you read stuff here has added to this world of mine being special and sparkly. So thank you for helping me realize that support is a thing. It’s real.
Okay, enough of that.
Don’t let me start crying.
I just did my fabulous plane-flying make-up.
Do you want to see the ad we’re running at Championships?
It’s gorgeous.
Right? That’s another wish you guys have helped me with. Spreading hot, buttered epiphanies throughout the world with the help of Shiva Nata.
You can click on the image to see it in its glorrrrrrrious full-size!
Play with me. And the extra-supportive commenting blanket fort.
If you want to mention a way that you have received or experienced support in some form because of this space, that would be beautiful.
Or you can leave a tiny pebble.
Declaring silent retreat is always welcome.
We’re all working on our stuff. We take responsibility for our experience and let other people have their experience. We make this a safe space by agreeing to not give each other advice (unless people ask, of course!).
Love, as always, to the commenter mice, the Beloved Lurkers and everyone who reads.
Barrington.
Barrington is my travelling companion, of course.
She’s absolutely smashing at it. Just frightfully efficient. One doesn’t know what one did before she was here to take care of it all.
Today she is doing up my valise and hat boxes and such, in preparation for our ocean liner voyage tomorrow.
To Denver. Yes. My, the places one can travel to by ocean liner these days. This truly is an era of Progress, wouldn’t you say?
Barrington is so good at these things. So very competent.
Dashedly competent!
Anyway.
The world in which Barrington and I live is kind of a mash-up between the world of say, a Marx Brothers film, an Agatha Christie novel, and socialites aboard the Titanic*.
* Except not the Titanic, of course, because our travels are always highly amusing but without any unpleasantness to speak of.
With some Gilbert & Sullivan thrown in for good measure, because often as not it turns out that Barrington and I are actually twins separated at birth and reunited.
Or possibly we were switched at birth, and actually I am meant to be her travelling companion. Which sometimes I am. Do you see? Never mind. It doesn’t matter.
The times change. Sometimes it’s more 1910-ish, and other times it’s already the early forties. When it’s earlier, we get to be secret suffragettes and wear bloomers in our staterooms! As the century progresses, we sometimes get to be spies. Or disguised anarchist rabble-rousers.
We get to be British, of course.
Mainly so I can say Rawther. And Quite.
I refer to things as being smashing, and amuse myself with my terrible attempt at a posh accent.
I will also throw in other British pronunciations of words which amuse me, no matter how irrelevant to whatever I happen to be speaking about at the time.
Zebra! Goulash! The cha cha!
Barrington and I get on ever so well.
You’d think that might be odd given that I’m her employer.
But of course we are secret cousins or best friends or lovers or who knows, so all that is just an act.
She calls me Brooks. Not in public, of course. Then I am Her Ladyship. But privately. Or sometimes under her breath, and we try not to collapse in giggles.
And sometimes we both call each other Rosie! I can’t tell you why. Or Old Thing. We have fun.
Brooks and Barrington, Barrington and Brooks! Partners in crime.
Sometimes Barrington is Barrington, and sometimes I am Barrington. Either way, it’s very useful.
Today, for example.
Barrington is in charge of packing. Which is perfect because I quite loathe packing, and of course she does a ripping good job.
So today I am Barrington, and this is the best and sneakiest plan in the entire history of sneaky plans, because Barrington does not have any of my monsters.
Barrington has decided what I am going to wear each day.
If I were to try something like that without her, my monsters would have a field day.
“Really? Could you be any more boring? What happened to the fun, crazy, up-for-anything girl who moved to Berlin based on a hunch? Packing?! Lists?! Next thing you know, you’ll be driving a mini-van. To soccer practice! Mom-jeans. Inspirational quotes on sweatshirts. We need to stop this self-care bullshit now before you lose your freedom and forget how to be fabulous. Code Red! Shut all systems down! No planning ever or it will be the end of you!”
But Barrington lives in a world where mini-vans do not exist, so this is not an immediate danger. Also she is delightfully immune to monsters. Mine and in general.
This means she can do all sorts of things to take care of me and make my life easier, without anyone objecting.
It’s another form of embarking.
Instead of leaving presents for slightly future me, Barrington leaves them for me.
And when I am Barrington, I am leaving them for Brooks. Which is part of my job description and also something I enjoy.
I can plant all sorts of delightful surprises for this person I love, without any of the guilt, the objections, or the usual accusations of Shameful Extravagance coming from the Collective.
What is Barrington up to today?
All sorts of things that I would never do for myself. Either because I wouldn’t remember or I’d deem it unimportant.
She’s already printed out the brackets for Championships as well as a list of everyone who is coming to my workshop in Boulder on Thursday.
She’s downloaded the exact-right books to my phone for reading on the plane.
Itineraries, clothing, special bags, snacks. Barrington does it all!
And she knows why it’s important, whereas I tend to forget to take care of myself-from-now and me-of-next-week.
Sometimes I make lists of things I secretly wish Barrington might do (and then she does!).
Sometimes I make lists of things that I, as Barrington, feel moved to do for Brooks.
Sometimes we put fascinators in our hair and frolic around the room.
Play! And how things work in the spacious commenting blanket fort.
If you had your own travelling companion or personal secretary, what would he or she be up to today?
Or what would you do for your person if you got to be the companion? What would you like to have ready for you for the next voyage? Internal voyages count too.
If you like, you can whisper-share here. Or declare silent retreat, which is always okay.
What I would love:
Entertaining phrases that Barrington and I can use. Or things we might say. Like: “sharp as a tack!”
(Not invited: critique of the world that Barrington and I inhabit. I don’t especially care about plot holes, anachronisms, or if anyone is worried about my many personalities, as sometimes happens. Barrington can confirm that I’m delightfully eccentric, and she is always right!)
This is a place of support, play, shelter, exploration, and conscious interaction with our stuff. We don’t give each other advice, and we try to have as much fun as we are capable of.
Oh, and would you care for flowers in your stateroom? I believe that can be arranged…
Very Personal Ads #122: if you know what I mean…
Personal ads. They’re … personal! Very.
Each week I write these VPAs 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!
Hey there! Sunday! It’s you! Oh, Sunday. How have you been all week?
I had adventures. And it’s really good to be back here at the Gwishery!
Yes, the place where I secretly and not-so-secretly deposit my gwishes.
Let’s do this. And you can play too if you want.
Thing 1: A stage-like thing and a perfect simple solution.
Here’s what I want:
So I’m teaching this workshop in Boulder on Thursday and there will be 26 people.
But we decided not to rent a stage because it was too complicated to arrange delivery with the location, for a variety of reasons.
And it is not impossible to teach Shiva Nata while not being taller than everyone so they can see easily, but it’s a challenge.
So I would really like a small, portable, DIY stage-like thing to magically reveal itself.
Ways this could work:
No idea! Let’s see.
Hmmm… maybe one of my people in Boulder or Denver has access to a bunch of milk crates and a large board?
Maybe someone works somewhere where there are portable risers and could help arrange for transport?
Maybe one of my roller derby connections has access to something. Like a tiny section of bleachers… ?? Or something else?
Maybe I just go get outrageously high platform shoes and we don’t do any high-impact jumping around.
Maybe I have the just right idea. In fact, most likely: Maybe Shiva Nata gives me the idea or the solution, since that’s one of the things that it does best.
Do you guys have ideas?
I’m receptive to a variety crazy goofball suggestions. Not things along the lines of “just deal with it”, though. That’s not what I want.
My commitment.
To have fun. To have so much fun.
I’ve already planned the class and today I’m having my imaginary Traveling Companion pack my valise.
So now I am just asking the ask and WISHING it. From a secret hidden room that is filled with trust, calm, strength and endless playful possibilities.
Thing 2: Recovery. Easy Transitions. Consolidation. Revue.
Here’s what I want:
I just finished pulling off mad feats of brilliance, grace and athleticism at THE OLYMPICS (shhhhh, that’s my proxy for teaching eight days of Crossing the Line).
But on Wednesday, I’m flying to Denver.
And there are all sorts of things that need to happen for that. Not to mention all sorts of recovery practices, exit rituals and a sparkly spangly dancing-mouse Revue of what was.
Ways this could work:
I have created an Anthology of Exit. It’s at the Playground. And maybe I can play with that.
Also I need a new word for consolidation because it’s stressing me out.
Magical synthesis? Can I relate it to the fractal flowers? Because that would be awesome.
Basically I don’t know how any of this will work.
But I know what I need:
Spaciousness. Curiosity. Investigation.
And also…. tea, notebooks, scribbling, doing old Turkish lady yoga and secret agent marathon-training sessions (that aren’t actually marathon-training sessions at all, because that’s code too, ahahahaaaaa!).
My commitment.
There has to be a way to make this fun, creative, safe, permission-filled, light-hearted and ridiculous.
And I’m going to find it.
Because if anyone can find it, that person would be me. It’s what I do. And if you think about it, this whole project is a sort of strategic conceptual blanket fort.
Whoah. Strategic Conceptual Blanket Forts. Is it just one guy?
Thing 3: The Page That Shall Not Be Mentioned Except By Proxy.
Here’s what I want:
On Friday, roller derby Championships begin. The Continental Divide & Conquer!
We’ll have a full page ad for Shiva Nata in the giant program.
It will be directing people to a page on the website.
That page does not really exist yet. Yes. Hilarious!
Because who doesn’t love doing something risky, expensive and possibly stupid? At the last minute? I live for that stuff.
I wish this were not true. Okay. It’s kind of not true. Oh god. At this point I’m just kind of muttering stuff under my breath awkwardly!
So this has to work, people. How is it going to work?
Ways this could work:
We’re going to have to proxy it, of course.
And I need a daring plan.
It will involve secret agent code words and a hot water bottle that has a bear on it.
I will have to use all my superpowers and my best costumes. And I will need help.
My commitment.
To do my secret marathon-training mini-sessions (wink, wink) so that I can be focused and ready.
To pretend I’m at Rally (Rally!).
To do some Shiva Nata on it, make it hard, and have realizations about what to do next.
To trust and trust and trust some more.
Thing 4: Recommendations for speakers!
Here’s what I want:
Not the kind of speakers who stand behind a podium.
The kind that play music and make a room sound beautiful.
I had another shivanautical realization this week. I have these portable speakers that go with my ipod because I am still in the identity of Traveling Yoga Teacher Who Wanders The World.
But now I’m the director of a center where I also run a yoga studio. This is different. We need an actual sound system.
It doesn’t need to be crazy fancy, because the Playground has magical acoustics and an enormously high coved ceiling, and everything sounds terrific there.
It needs to be relatively affordable (not something my high-end-audiophile ex-husband would recommend) but also sound good and be relatively easy to install.
Ways this could work:
I can ask you guys for ideas and recommendations.
I can bring it to my Kitchen Table and ask there.
Or ask the Frolicsome Bar? Or the twitter pub?
My commitment.
To keep investigating this. To find out where the stuck lives and ask it loving questions.
Progress report on past Very Personal Ads.
Just to update you on what’s happened since last time.
I wanted to find the shortcuts and I found all the shortcuts. This is incredible.
Note to me-who-forgets: The shortcuts include a) proxies, b) fifteen mini newts!, c) mini “marathon-training sessions” wink-wink, d) choosing the door by choosing the world you want to be in and doing something that represents that world, e) write it down.
I asked for documentation, and created the best Anthology ever. Yes!
Then I wanted good recovery time, and am still working on that. But some things that helped: hiding with Briana, immersing myself in the hidden hotel, writing notes to myself, using the Anthology of Exit.
Also: thai massage.
The ask for a Partner In Crime resulted in all sorts of marvelous and unexpected results, including a fantastic idea I had that will most certainly lead to shenanigans. Of the good kind.
I also wanted Rally sign-ups for the January Rally (Rally!), and we that happened. I believe there are now two spots left? And a scholarship ship?
And next steps on the Convening of the Enthusiastic, which is moving full speed ahead. Wow. Best VPAs ever. I can’t believe so much of this actually happened so quickly.
Play-filled comment zen. Here’s what I’d love today.
- Wanted: Your own personal ads, small or large. Updates on past ones if you like.
- You can also do these on your own or in your head. You can always call silent retreat!
- Leave your gwishes! Throw things in the pot!
- Things we try to keep away from: the word “manifest”, telling people how they should be asking for things, unsolicited advice.
- VPA amnesty applies, of course. Leave yours any time between now and next Sunday (or whenever, really) — it’s all fine by us!
xox