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 #168: warm sock chicken moon
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.
Sneaky, sneaky Friday! There you are.
This was a really weird and crazy week for me.
I haven’t decided yet which parts were good and which parts were hard, but that’s why we’re chickening. Let’s do this.
The hard stuff
Old pain. Having to work through it.
Hard hard hard.
Sadness.
Sometimes I miss my friend who is dead so much that I can hardly stand it.
And I want to tell him things. Nothing important or meaningful.
Just stuff.
The in-between drying season of nothing drying.
In the winter, I put the drying rack over the heating vent, and everything dries quickly. In the summer, it’s warm and everything dries quickly.
Now we’re in that in-between thing, and I have nothing to wear because everything I own is spread out over the living room in a state of not-quite-dry.
Indecision. And then all the other problems caused by that.
I put off a bunch of decisions this week because I just wasn’t in the head-space for it.
And now I have to deal with the fall-out.
The phone! Aaaaaaaagh.
So the iPhone is not just not-working. It is apparently unfixable.
Then I delayed another decision (what to do about it, when to upgrade).
And I was too late and now there won’t be a new phone for a few weeks.
And being without a phone for a week means seventeen billion (by monster-count) voice mail messages and I don’t want to listen to any of them!
HIDING. NOW.
Timing and pressures.
After three weeks of trying to get information from the derby girls about sponsorship at Championships, we get the specs.
Aaaaaaaand the ad for the program is due the following day.
Luckily my graphic designer is amazing, brilliant, speedy and always puts my stuff first. And luckily I am really good at writing copy. Off the top of my head.
Because otherwise we would have been screwed. But it was still way too stressful. And then dealing with the derby world brings up all my stuff from the yoga world, so there’s more to work on there.
Sometimes I want to run awaaaaaaaaaay.
Sometimes a lot.
Being surprised.
I was unexpectedly thrust into doing something that I wasn’t prepared for.
(It was fun and I’m glad I did it. But the way in which it happened was not supportive of me and didn’t give me what I needed to be able to do it and remain present/stable.)
The recovery time for that took a lot longer because of not getting time and space for conscious entry. Even having a minute or two would have changed the entire experience.
Still hurt and angry about something that is over.
I thought I was done with it but then I had a dream that reminded me. Not done. Very much not done.
The good stuff
Music.
The most beautiful haunting violin performance that split my heart in two and revealed another heart underneath.
Wow.
Help and support.
Lots of amazing help from Juno — without her I don’t think we’d ever have heard back from the Continental Divide & Conquer. The event we’ve been trying to sponsor.
Casey gave me her old phone to use in the meantime so that I am no longer phoneless.
The First Mate has been working overtime and being unbelievably great.
I might have a new helper mouse person in my life, and this is going to make everything better!
Sukkot.
The festival of blanket forts!
I am really loving this right now.
Dancing.
I love it.
Things working out.
Lots of perfect simple solutions showing up out of nowhere.
Fall!
Crisp air, crunchy leaves, sweaters!
The Board of Surprisers call on Monday.
I had been pretty nervous about meeting with my Board of Surprisers.
We did Show & Tell, which is my new metaphor for “presentations”.
I told them all about the new changes in my business for next year, and they were ENTHUSIASTIC.
It was so full of fun and laughter. I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed a meeting like that before.
Feeling grateful and happy.
No really, I am a crazed genius!
Which is even better than being an unlikely business savant, because there’s more rainbow confetti.
Between the shivanautical epiphanies and the new systems I’ve been implementing, things are changing in the most silly and beautiful ways.
I’ll be able to tell you more when I’ve done some more Show & Tell sessions with the Enthusiastic but the point is: feeling really good about where the pirate ship is headed and all of our new adventures.
Amazing things happening at the Kitchen Table.
I am seriously in awe of the progress people are making.
Bath time and other reassuring rituals.
It all helps.
Sweetness.
Lovely cards and gifts in the mail from Leni and Kylie and Maryann and Char.
THANK YOU.
The fun part of the Chickening happens here.
Tabstravaganza! Or: what’s Havi been up to with all those open Firefox tabs?
This wonderful post from Eve.
This from Briana (she let five-year-old-her take over her yoga class, and it’s awesome).
As if I wasn’t already completely in love with @harto from My Drunk Kitchen, this video: show me where ya noms at. ADORABLE.
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 might be my favorite band ever. Ever!
Public Anemone
They’re loud and kind of floaty at the same time. Shows are happening all weekend so check them out.
Though, of course, it’s really it’s just one guy.
Hallo Hallo! I am saying Hallo Hallo. Announcement time.
Picture me wearing that crazy hat…
- Reminder! Plum Duff days (password: extraraisins) end MONDAY.
- Rally prices have to go up soon. Take a look at the 2012 schedule and make a Gwish about when/how.
- The Art of Embarking is really soon. And really great.
I think that’s everything? If not, I’ll add stuff to the Very Personal Ads this 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.
The Festival of Blanket Forts.
So it’s Sukkot right now, which is my favorite holiday.
And yes, I continue to say this about pretty much all the holidays… but that’s really only because each one actually IS my favorite while it’s happening.
I mean, come on. How is every single one of these not the best?
- Purim. Wear costumes. Drink wine. Bake these cookies! Deliver them to friends!
- Rosh HaShana. Release your regrets into the river. Eat a pomegranate!
- Tu B’Shvat. Celebrate the birthday of the trees. Eat dates and almonds!
- Lag B’Omer. Have a secret picnic of remembering!
- Shavuot. Midnight beneath the stars. Study texts. Blintzes and sour cream!
- Pesach. The holiday of Spring Cleaning. And kneidelach!
- Hannukah. Light candles in a row. Eat fried things that are delicious!
All exclamation-point-worthy. Also: Yum! Do you see how hard it is?
But this…
This is the holiday of Hey, build a temporary shelter and go rest there and eat things — for a week!
It is the Festival of Blanket Forts.
It is everything I love.
It is safety and permission and hiding. Sometimes in an invisibility cloak.
It is a canopy of peace.
It is shelter, support, containment.
And you build it! For yourself! And then take it down again.
It is construction and deconstruction, just like in Shiva Nata.
The shivanautical principle that especially applies here: Using the same elements for building, undoing and then reconfiguring so that the new thing you want emerges from the old pattern.
It is peeking at the stars.
It is, as I wrote last year, “both sumptuous and temporary”.
“The roof must be made from something that once grew in the ground, and is no longer attached to the earth.”
(See: the best description of the sukkah and how it may be constructed.)
It is about structures and shelter as a field of safety to move you through the passages.
It is about harvesting. And celebrating what has been harvested.
It is safe rooms. We had one yesterday too.
Here’s what I’m practicing.
Consciously interacting with the tradition that I inherited. In my own way, with my own presence and my own understandings of how to care for myself.
Bringing play, curiosity, enthusiasm and mindfulness to the experiment.
Examining the essence of shelter and blanket-fort-ing and retreating.
Filling up on the qualities of safety, sovereignty, compassion, sweetness.
Intentionally hiding.
Invoking gestation.
Looking for the passages.
Peeking at the stars.
Making circles and circles. Inspired by the hakafot.
Discovering and inventing internal holidays just for me.
I’m also wondering if maybe in 2013 we should have a special indoor-outdoor Rally that happens over Sukkot, so that we can have blanket forts inside and a communal project-space sukkah outside. An idea…
Comment zen. Ooh, let’s make it a commenting sukkah!
This is our safe space to play and experiment.
You never have to share anything if you don’t feel like it. You can always call Silent Retreat!
We make this experience spacious by invoking amnesty. We make this experience safe by agreeing to let people have their own experience, and committing to not giving unsolicited advice. By not telling people how to feel or how to be.
We ask ourselves questions and look for the patterns that live inside of the questions.
So yes, the comments can be our own symbolic sukkah.
I have juice and tea. And my mother’s amazing honey cake. Help yourself.
Bring snacks if you like. Sit and take some time under the hanging gourds. The air is cool and crisp. There is somehow always enough time for whatever needs to happen.
Building safe rooms for the Panicky Jitters.
There are many kinds of Panicky Jitters. Today I’m thinking about: the ones that magically appear when you commit to an Adventure.
Like a mysterious project, something we’ve been understandably avoiding.
Or when you sign up for Rally (Rally!). Or say yes to a giant and powerful — and therefore slightly terrifying — voyage like Crossing the Line.
Password: haulaway
I think the Panicky Jitters might also be related to the Grumblethrum Collective.
The first question.
For me, the first question is always about how I can care for myself:
What can I do (or what needs to happen) right now so that I can feel safe, supported and sovereign?
And what usually comes out of that line of questioning is the recognition that not only do I need safety and stability, but so do my fears, monsters and walls:
Okay, what needs to happen for the Panicky Jitters to feel safe too?
There are three assumptions here:
- All fear/pain is legitimate. Even if I don’t remember the source or understand why it’s there.
- The secret mission of the Panicky Jitters is this: they want desperately to keep me safe from Bad Things (like rejection, humiliation, depression, loss). They want me to be safe and supported.
- I also want safety and support, so by giving these to the Panicky Jitters, I’m caring for me. And vice versa.
What does a safe room look like?
It depends.
If I’m in a situation where I can ask the Panicky Jitters what they need, I will. But sometimes they’re being so loud and intense or so vague that it’s impossible to interact with them until they’ve calmed down.
So I declare the existence of the perfect-for-them safe room.
No one can get in. It is completely contained. There are loving lion-guards outside the door.
I go by feeling:
Should there be skylights? Hmm. Not today. It needs to feel really cozy and snug.
Blankets everywhere. Cubbies. Things to hide under.
Are there bright colors? No, not bright. But warm. Muted maroons, rich deep autumn oranges, velvety blues and browns.
What kind of food should there be? Is there a pantry? Pizza delivered by elves?
There are red bowls everywhere, filled with nuts and dried fruit. There is a giant pot of steaming delicious soup. Which you can drink from little mugs. Okay!
What do the Panicky Jitters do there?
Whatever they like.
They can nap. They can draw with crayons. They can read in the library where the books go all the way up to the ceiling. They can sit by the fireplace or take long baths in the heated soaking pool.
They can make requests for any changes, additions or alterations that they like. It’s their space. It’s their home for as long as they want to be there.
And once they’re there, we can secretly make plans to circumvent the things they are afraid might happen. By proxy, if necessary.
Step 1: Giving legitimacy.
The Panicky Jitters are almost ridiculously normal. Everyone gets them.
This is what’s going on in my head when I am about to be a student/participant at an event/retreat/whatever:
“I’m not going to like anyone. And then I’ll be stuck there with these horrible people who will not just be horrible but annoyingly self-congratulatory about their horribleness.
There will be nothing for me to eat. I’ll spend the whole time thinking about food. I’m hungry right now just thinking about it. It will be hellish.
Also everyone there will be a real [insert all my insecurities here about not being whatever it is I think I should be] and I’ll be the awkward outsider, like always.
There won’t be space to be alone. I’ll cry and have anxiety attacks. It will be a huge waste of time and money.
Not to mention: what am I going to weeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar?!“
Sometimes I just need to remember that even untrue and absurd fears deserve to exist. And that I am not alone. These are communal fears. They hang out in the ether, and we all plug in to them.
Step 2: Reassurances and back-up plans!
What follows is the answers I’d give to people coming to Rally or an event at the Playground.
Plus the answers I’d give to myself if I were going to someone else’s thing. Your reassurances and back-up plans might be different. That’s fine!
What if the people suck?
Me to you: My people astound me. They’re lovely. I always end up adoring all of them. You’ll discover all sorts of things in common, aside from the shared Panicky Jitters.
Me to me: I can be on Silent Retreat! I can have a strong force field. I can look for the one person who is always there that I connect with. I can be in a secret costume!
But I don’t know what to wear!
Me to you: You will definitely be better-dressed than messy moi because I pretty much wear the same thing every single day. Even Selma changes clothes more often.
Assume that I will be wearing black pants. Probably these (the first one). With a t-shirt or a loose cotton dress. And a hoodie? If it’s cold. That’s me. Wear whatever you like.
Me to me: Eh, the thing about being eccentric is that there is leeway. You’ll already be the one with the duck. People will make allowances for everything else. Just wear stuff you can stretch and feel comfortable in.
Foods!
Me to you: There is the yummiest food in the world on our street. Plenty of vegetarian, vegan, gluten-free, whatever you need. Plus snacks. See the Rally FAQ.
Me to me: I can pack snacks! I can have emergency back-up plans.
What if everyone is X and I’ll be the only one who is Y?
Me to you: We all have outsider syndrome but it won’t be like that. Promise.
Me to me: Oh, right. Outsider syndrome is never true. It just feels true. I can look at why Now Is Not Then. And I can pop the bubbles.
What if I get overloaded? What if it’s too intense? Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh?
Me to you: We will definitely be doing this in a way that’s not self-abusive and miserable.
Free time every day. Optional activities. Choice. Space. Daily designated time to projectize, nap, run away, decompress. Plus you can always take yourself to the Refueling Station and close the curtain to be alone.
Me to me: I am a sovereign being. I can make my own choices. I will pause when I need to, and I can make my own breaks.
But the awkwardness! Total strangers!
Me to you: It’s going to feel like a reunion. A hilarious Fluent-Self reunion of people you didn’t know you were friends with. You will feel right at home.
Me to me: I can change how I am present by preparing for the voyage. By preparing in general. By setting it up. And I can do the alignment exercise.
What if it’s great while I’m there but then I go home and forget it all?
Me to you: No point making all these changes and not getting to keep them! We’ll cover implementation magic and how to take it home.
Me to me: Once something is planted, it’s planted. Let the fractal flowers take care of it. You need this for some reason, so now your job is to trust that you will find a way to use this. Also: Now Is Not Then.
I don’t know what to bring!
Me to you: We’ll give you a packing list. Main thing is gigantic notebook and something to write with, because there will be much scribbling. And warm socks. And a raincoat. Really, that’s mostly it.
Me to me: Pens. Notebooks. Socks. Lipgloss. Duck. Phone charger. Secret costumes.
Back to the safe room.
Whenever I start to interact with the Panicky Jitters, it always seems like their panicking and jittering is infinite. Like the List of Seventeen Billion Things.
But when I insist that their fear is legitimate and that they’re allowed to feel safe, and that we can come up with sneaky ways to make sure they get what they need, everything changes.
It usually turns out that there are maybe eight things they’re worried about. And then we’re set.
Sometimes they like the safe rooms so much that they want to move in. Go for it.
Play! And the comment blanket fort agreement.
You can make safe rooms for your own Jitters, panicky or otherwise.
You can deposit Monster Concerns here and we will take care of them in the Monster-Watching Collective (we have toys!).
You can practice giving legitimacy and loving reassurances.
As always, we all have our stuff. We’re all working on our stuff. It’s a process.
We make room for people to have their stuff, we take responsibility for what’s ours, we notice patterns.
We keep this a safe space by not giving each other unsolicited advice.
Love to all the commenter mice, the Beloved Lurkers and everyone who reads.
Postscript!
If you’re thinking about coming to a Rally (Rally!) in 2012, do it during the not-for-much-longer Plum Duff days. Password: extraraisins
This is where I live.
This is where I live.
This is my body.
It houses me.
And not just me-now but all of the versions and aspects of me. And the infinite internal worlds that I am a part of.
My body is the home of my creativity, my strength, my desire, my boundaries, my entire experience of being alive.
This is where I live.
The absolute worst, most destructive things I can feed my body: guilt, shame, self-recrimination.
The healthiest and most loving things I can feed it: spaciousness, appreciation, boundaries, acknowledgment, movement, rest, permission, amnesty.
This is where I live.
I have not always treated this home especially well. Actually, I spent most of my twenties trashing the place. It’s okay. It was a necessary experience.
And one day I remembered that this is the only place I get to live.
I care for it to the best of my ability, which is always changing. It’s a process.
Still I commit to lovingly maintaining it. My life work includes getting to know all the hidden spaces and neglected corners.
To repair where I can. To lovingly accept where I can’t.
All houses have odd problems and structural weirdnesses. You get to know them. You work around some things. You make peace with other things.
I can have love for this home even if … okay, yes, this isn’t the kind of porch I would have designed for it. My pain. My process.
This is where I live.
My body is also the home of my business.
That’s because any business or job requires presence. Which starts in my body and my relationship with my body.
It’s not just about letting my body make executive decisions. It’s about recognizing that this container is the hub of everything.
Everything I do to support it supports my business.
Everything I do that is not supportive — even if it’s a sacrifice I’m making for my business, sabotages my business.
Here’s what’s good for my business: sleeping, moving, walking, dancing, flailing, yoga, massage. Long, slow, deep breaths. Noticing.
Here’s what’s never good for my business: rushing, panicking, forgetting where I live.
This is where I live.
Sometimes caring for your home means setting firm expectations, and kicking everyone out.
Yesterday I was at dance class and forgot that my home is my home.
I spaced out and started letting the instructor set things up her way in my home. It was not good.
I took a break so I could talk to my home. This is what I said:
“Hey, this is our space. It exists for us. We know it best. I am so sorry that I forgot. I will never push you. I will listen, ask questions and commit to supporting what you need to feel safe, strong, powerful and loved.”
This is where I live.
This is where I live.
It is the safe space from which I am able to do the things that I do, as well as the place where I practice intentionally not doing.
It is the home of my essential me-ness. Where all the bits and forgotten Havi-pieces come together.
Where I hide. Where I fall apart. Where I recover. Where I grow. Where I play.
I learn this and re-learn this and re-learn this.
This is where I get to live.
It houses me.
It houses me.
Comment blanket fort…
We all have our stuff. We all have complex relationships with our symbolic homes and internal space. We’re working on it. It’s a process.
If you’d like, you can notice things about your relationship with this place you live. Or share what you’re trying. Tell us what helps you spend more time there.
We don’t tell each other what to do or how to feel.
We give other people room to have their stuff. We take responsibility for our stuff and for our choices/reactions. We put our attention to the patterns and needs behind our thoughts and questions.
We play. Even though this stuff is hard. Which it is.
Love to the commenter mice, the Beloved Lurkers and everyone who reads.
p.s. Plum Duff! Take a look. Password: extraraisins
Very Personal Ads #118: navigational steps
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!
Happy Sunday, you guys!
You can VPA all week, if you like.
Let’s do it.
Thing 1: Chinook book dates
Here’s what I want:
Ah, October.
If you live in Portland, which the vast majority of you don’t, you’re probably doing the same thing.
Anyway, a million amazing coupons that all expire at the end of this month.
Ways this could work:
I could take the gentleman out to lunch. At a bunch of different places.
There could be lists.
It could be turned into a game.
I could enlist Dana and Carolyn.
My commitment.
To play.
To make this fun.
To discover new things and say wheeee!
To make notes for next year.
Speaking of which….
Thing 2: Seasonal updatings in the Book of You.
Here’s what I want:
The Book of Me is sorely out of date when it comes to AUTUMN.
I’d like to do some updating about seasonal changes, what I need in the fall, what works and what doesn’t. And some additions to the dammit list.
Ways this could work:
Doing some stone skippings.
Extra writing time this week at the Playground.
More Shiva Nata to get focused and to find all the openings.
My commitment.
To remember that the more I document what I need, the more likely it is that I will give it to myself.
And the more likely it is that I will run into walls about why I’m not allowed to take care of myself, which means: safety first!
And to also remember that when I run into walls, I get to consciously interact with them and learn about them, and this will end up solving all sorts of future challenges.
This is a useful opportunity to plant some really sweet surprises for Slightly Future Me, and I know we’ll look back on this with appreciation and love.
Thing 3: Tiny mini snack-size Drunk Pirate Councils…
Here’s what I want:
There is much to be done, and it needs to be done differently.
Instead of having official and formal Drunk Pirate Councils (what we call “meetings” here on the pirate ship), I’m thinking tiny daily mini-councils.
Fifteen minutes. Where are we on X? Immediate navigational steps on Y? What’s working? What are we trying differently?
Zehu. Alles. That’s it. Nothing more.
Ways this could work:
I don’t know. I’m going to ask the First Mate if we can try this for the next couple weeks.
The main problem will be figuring out a time of day, but we’re just going to have to do it.
I’m also going to ask Cairene for suggestions.
My commitment.
To show up.
To say, Fair winds!
To drink orange juice and pretend it’s rum. We might have to change the name to Ridiculously Sober Not-At-All-Drunk Pirate Councils.
Also I’d like a cute little name for mini-council. Curses, English language! Your lack of handy diminutives is yet again getting on my nerves.
Thing 4: Sixteen Days Inward.
Here’s what I want:
Sixteen deep, powerful, restful days of turning inward in preparation for Crossing the Line.
Ways this could work:
Designated notebook.
Follow the same structure as Island Time.
Stay in the Quarters.
Invent rituals.
Practice all the things you’re teaching.
My commitment.
To be present for this.
To be ready to discover all the things I’m wrong about.
To take care of myself in every way I know how.
Thing 5: An early and celebratory end to Plum Duff?
Here’s what I want:
We’re getting pretty close to selling out the gorgeous 2012 Playground calendars.
There are still a few Rally (Rally!) spots for January. And a few of the reduced rate Rallies (for KT-ers and anyone who has already been on Rally).
I’m reading through scholarship applications, but you can still send yours!
Let’s have these all fill up, and have a happy End of Plum Duff celebration.
Ways this could work:
Not sure yet.
I’m going to meditate on this and flail on it, and see what comes up.
And I’m going to give you the link to the Plum Duff page:
http://TheFluentSelf.com/plum-duff password: extraraisins
Officially? Plum Duff goes through October 17 in the morning (a week from tomorrow). However, a lot of this will be gone before then.
My commitment.
To stay connected to the essence of Plum Duff:
Delight. Curiosity. Wonder. Possibility. Joyfulness. Adventure. Play.
To wear lots of costumes and dance around.
Progress report on past Very Personal Ads.
Just to update you on what’s happened since last time.
I wanted to start teaching about conscious entry, and I’m doing it! The Art of Embarking course is filling up quickly. I’ve been writing about it, practicing it and planning the teachings. Feeling good about this one.
Then I wanted to announce and bunch of announcings, and they got announced.
I asked for magazines for the arts & crafts area in the Treasure Room at the Playground (for doing collages and such), and we didn’t get any so far. Will have a look at SCRAP this week, and re-ask the ask.
Also wanted next steps on planning Denver. We have tickets to the Championships, a likely venue, hotel room for me, and some other stuff taken care of. Still more to do on this, but hooray for progress.
That’s it!
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