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.
The fountain.
So this fountain is seriously, outrageously beautiful.
It might be the best fountain I’ve ever seen.
There are flowers all around it.
And cool statues of unexpected things.
And sometimes on a sunny day you see adorable children running around in their underwear and splashing up a storm.
But here’s the important thing about the fountain.
If you bring the fountain something you feel sad about, it will take your sadness.
You bring a whine, a grumble, a piece of grief, a story of woe.
You drop it into the fountain. Maybe in the form of a pebble or a coin. Maybe just by speaking it. Or thinking it.
And the fountain receives it, whisks it away, and transforms it. You feel instantly better for having released whatever it was. The fountain has fulfilled its mission.
The fountain does not have a hierarchy of pain.
The fountain takes anything.
It doesn’t matter what the cause of woe is.
A stubbed toe? That’s legitimate. Bring your hurt and distress to the fountain and it will take it for you.
Giant, awful, unspeakable loss? The fountain will take that too, acknowledging the pain of it through the act of receiving.
The fountain does not have a hierarchy of pain.
Yes, of course we all know that war is worse than a computer malfunctioning, that a break-up is harder to bear than being late to a film.
But the fountain takes it all. It has room. And time. It takes all of it, without making distinctions.
Because the end result is the same: less pain in the world. Anyone is allowed to come and release the hurty bits.
We are all equal at the fountain.
There are two groups of people who do not enjoy the fountain.
There are the fountain-shunners.
That is to say, all the people who will not allow themselves to use the fountain, even though it exists for them too.
They are in too much guilt to feel safe using the fountain. Self-silencing.
How could I possibly consider my small problems when other people have real problems? My grief and pain are not significant enough for the fountain.
The fountain-shunners avoid releasing their pain to the fountain because they are afraid they are not worthy.
And often they also fear the reactions of the second group.
The second group is all the self-appointed fountain-policers.
They mean well. Just like the monsters.
It’s just that they’re operating under a basic misconception about the nature of the fountain, and this is reflected in how they react to other people using the fountain.
They wag their fingers at anyone they deem unworthy.
Who do you think you are, wasting the fountain’s powers on your small piece of pain?
They don’t realize that there is enough fountain to go around. They think you have to save the fountain for the people who — according to them — really and truly need it. They have made themselves the protectors of the fountain.
But the fountain does not need protection.
Sometimes these two groups are the same.
And sometimes they’re not.
It’s pretty damn tragic when you think about it.
The fountain is there to help us process and release our pain.
The more we make use of it, the better it is for the world.
When we express pain, loss, grief and hurt by giving it to the fountain, that pain, grief, loss or hurt begins to move. And then we aren’t holding it … and we aren’t held by it.
Freedom. Liberation.
Freedom is a big deal.
People work against that freedom because they have a mistaken idea about protecting the fountain — or because they fear having shoes thrown at them: negative comments and judgment.
Where is the fountain?
In the stream of posts from people I follow at the Twitter bar (it’s my local pub).
In the beautiful thing that is the Complaints Choir. There are so many videos of this brilliant, brilliant communal fountain-ing practice that I don’t even know what to link to … but I think Chicago is my favorite. I also like Helsinki.
The fountain also shows up at Crankypants McGrumblebug’s Kvetching Whine Bar, which is a forum board in my Kitchen Table program. That’s where my lovely community brings its woes and grumbles, big and small.
The fountain is there whenever we throw things into the pot.
And of course the fountain is also right here on the Friday Chicken, when we list the hard that has been part of the week alongside the good.
Luckily in places that I run like the KT and the blog, there is no fountain-policing, because our culture is one of permission and play. But self-silencing still happens.
We have to protect ourselves and the fountain from limitation.
Every time we hedge — “I shouldn’t be complaining about this, it’s just a first world problem, I shouldn’t even care about this when there are children starving in the world.” — we are perpetuating the idea that the fountain is limited.
Every time we let someone else tell us that our moment of woe is too small, we are agreeing to a false idea that the fountain is not for us.
Look at this.
The work done by the Complaints Choirs (here’s the link to Chicago’s again) is transcendent.
You can almost feel the power of the crazy, beautiful healing is that is happening for both the singers and their city as they sing out the city’s sadness.
But there are some angry, vitriolic comments on the videos of these Complaint Choirs. Full of how-dare-yous and who-do-you-think-you-ares and other forms of your-pain-is-not-valid. The usual monster brigade.
The world is full of apologizers and fountain-policers.
But we do not have to let them silence us. And we don’t need to silence ourselves or each other.
When we allow this to happen — whether by other people or by ourselves — we are giving up our power and our sovereignty.
It’s not good for us. It’s not good for the world. And it’s not good for the fountain either.
The fountain is right here.
Of course it’s not just here. It exists wherever there’s permission for us to quietly state our pain.
Not to dwell in the pain, re-hash the pain, or to stay focused on the pain. Not to live inside of the not-useful kind of why.
But the fountain is there every time we acknowledge discomfort and give it legitimacy. Yay, acknowledgment. Yay, legitimacy.
Because acknowledgment and legitimacy lead to a very useful kind of softening. The sting doesn’t sting as much once it has been spoken and heard.
We’re here to use the fountain. So let’s do that. Consciously, intentionally and unapologetically.
Comment zen for today.
You can use this space as a fountain: to whisper pieces of sadness that want acknowledging.
Or you can talk about the concept, especially in the context of the online (and offline) culture that we live in:
What it means to use the fountain without apologizing for it. To know that everyone gets to use the fountain. Of course we don’t have to participate or listen, but we can make space for everyone else to get their fountain time.
As always, we all have our stuff. We make space for our stuff, we take responsibility for our stuff, and we don’t give each other unsolicited advice. Because this is a fountain.
p.s. At risk of stating (overstating?) the obvious, which you never think you have to do but then it pretty much always turns out that you might as well, the fountain is a metaphor. You know, like Bolivia. Just wanted to make that extra-clear!
Today I woke up with an extra superpower.
Today I woke up with an extra superpower.
I don’t know how long it will last.
It is a superpower of invisible translation.
Showing me the secret hidden essence of good that lives inside each thing that I encounter, whether I like that thing or not.
Like this:
The soap shaped like a leaf means GROW and EXPAND.
The annoyingly preachy Save Mother Earth sign that someone put in my space is really about CARING.
The lamp that doesn’t work has the secret message of ADAPTABILITY. It’s saying, try things.
The trickle of water in the background is humming FLOW.
The exasperated-sounding sigh of the person next to me has its secret truth too: RELEASE.
In the mirror.
I look in the mirror and hear what X would say: “That’s what you’re wearing? At least put a jacket on. You look like a hooker.”
But instead of going into the usual rounds of anger/shame/resentment, the superpower kicks in.
So I still hear the unkind words but I also find their core. Much like my fuzzball monsters, this person desperately wanted SAFETY for me but didn’t know how to say that in a loving and supportive way.
I take in SAFETY and PROTECTION and let the rest — the trappings of bitterness and blame — fall away.
And I inhale COMFORT and FAITH as well: remembering that I will never again live with anyone who speaks to me like that.
Remembering.
Not sure what triggers this one. I hear the voice of my friend who is dead. This happens every day.
He says, as he always said, it’s all for the best.
And instead of raging against him and resisting his words (how dare you say it’s for the best when you left me like that?!), I see the sweet center of his belief that I did not share:
HOPE. And FAITH.
I fill up on these and add them to today’s superpowers. Who knows? They might come in handy tomorrow.
The poorly worded sign.
I take it for what it is. A sign.
I release the finger-wagging tone and the threatening words and take in its purpose: SAFETY and PROTECTION again.
Loss.
At first when this new superpower showed up the first thing I felt was the grief and fear of potential loss:
What will happen when it’s gone? Who will I be when I have lost this ability?
But then I saw that for what it is: a monster-fear, combined with the belief and experience that good things don’t stick around.
What if that doesn’t need to be true anymore? This is what I whispered to the trees.
And then I saw the essential good inside of the grief and fear: SUSTAINABILITY.
So I’m taking that.
And something else.
I’m also trying to remember that this is not just a superpower. It’s another destuckification technique that I can consciously use when I need it.
Like finding signs. Or noticing the noticings. It’s a way of being the fox in the video game.
It’s something I can practice. I can enter it into the Book of Me. It’s something I can get back to through Shiva Nata or through yoga or through breathing my way there. And remembering.
And comment zen for today.
Superpowers, like tiny sweet things, can sometimes be kind of fragile. We tread gently. We explore without pushing.
This is pretty personal stuff that I’m sharing, and it’s very likely that other personal stuff will be shared by people in the comments.
As always, we respect that vulnerability by giving it space and love. So we don’t offer unsolicited analysis of someone’s situation and we don’t tell each other what to do or how to feel.
If you want to try on today’s superpower, you are welcome to it. Part of the magic of superpowers is that invoking a power that appeals to you in no way diminishes someone else’s supply of it.
And if you want to share bits and pieces of your experiment in finding the essence (or thoughts on this process and how hard it can be), that would be lovely.
Love love love to the commenter mice, the Beloved Lurkers and everyone who reads.
Very Personal Ads #103: one hundred and threedom for everyone!
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!
Thing 1: company for parading
Here’s what I want:
No one was able to come with me to the Hat Parade (Hat! Parade! Oh boy! ) so I was very sadface mouse.
But then today was Sunday Parkways (absolutely one of the best things in Portland — more about it here) and so I went on a three hour walk that was practically a parade.
I mean, there was a pirate. And some very fabulous outfits. And unicycles. So basically: parade!
And I want people to come with me for the next ones. Or to tag along with me on other city parades and walks that sound like fun.
Ways this could work:
Maybe giving people more notice. Announcing ahead of time.
Doing something shivanautical? With music?
I don’t know. For now I’m just going to put it out there that I want some lovely people to companionably parade with.
My commitment.
To wear silly hats and blow bubbles and think about the fun that can be had.
Thing 2: who’s coming to the Shiva Nata sneak snack preview picnic call?
Here’s what I want:
Even more people coming to our sneak snack preview picnic call about Shiva Nata, creative flow, neat things related to the September training and general good stuff.
Yes, please!
Ways this could work:
So many of you have already been lovely about spreading the word on Facebook, twitter, the world of blog. Thank you!
Maybe more people will tell other people.
And again, I can ask for help from the Kitchen Table and the Secret Lab.
My commitment.
To wave enthusiastically at everyone who joins us or gets the recording or flails with us in spirit.
Thing 3: help and support with a mini-brunching
Here’s what I want:
There is a thing that I might be announcing this week but all sorts of other little pieces have to fall into place for it to happen. Will it happen? I hope so!
Ways this could work:
With the loving support of the smart people in my Kitchen Table program, who will provide me with insight, feedback, ideas and cheering.
Through regularly interviewing slightly future me to find out what the deal is.
And, of course, through being the fox in the video game.
My commitment.
To pay attention. To not push. To ask intelligent, loving questions. To get as creative as is needed.
Thing 4: do-overs!
Here’s what I want:
So last week I said I wanted two people to sign up for the July Rally (Rally!) and that totally happened. Almost instantaneously. Thank you.
But apparently I wasn’t specific at all about why I wanted what I wanted, because as soon as it happened, two other July Rallions switched to rallies happening later in the year.
So… I want two more people to join us for mad hot projectizing and general magic, fun and wonder in July.
And maybe what I really need to say is that I want a full, happy Rally (Rally!), and for this to happen in a sustainable way with much smoothness and ease.
There. Let’s try like that. 🙂
Ways this could work:
I can pay attention to the needs behind the things I ask for, and what I really am asking for.
I can find other ways of connecting to those qualities hidden inside of the wanting (support? belonging? shelter? sovereignty?) and do things that symbolize this new relationship with receiving them.
Also — in the hard — I can update the page and put up new pictures and generally be more forthcoming about WHY this is so amazing.
My commitment.
To be curious and receptive. To have some fun with this.
Progress report on past Very Personal Ads.
Just to update you on what’s happened since last time.
We wanted more action at the Frolicsome Bar (the facebook page for The Fluent Self Inc, Pirate Ship at Large), and that’s definitely been happening. Yay!
Then I was completely stuckified about getting a bus pass, and that sorted itself out easily and gracefully. It was definitely easier than I thought (you can get them at the co-op!).
I was working on receptivity… and I’m still working on it. Not sure if there was progress there but it was definitely a theme this week.
Then planning a pirate queen holiday — I did plan one! Sparklepoints for me! But it’s a tiny one — just one night. And I really want a week off, so I need to re-ask this one too.
As for the two July Rallions, you already know how it worked out! I got what I asked for and I had to ask again. Some interesting systems stuff to think about there, but mainly I’m happy that the VPAs give such a shape to my week. I appreciate that.
Comment zen. Here’s what I’d love today.
Your own personal ads, small or large. Things you’ve asked for. Or are asking for. Or would like to ask for. Or updates on last time!
Stuff I’d rather not have:
The word “manifest”. To be told how I should be asking for things. To be judged, psychoanalyzed or given unsolicited advice.
Much love for your gwishes! So happy to have you doing this with me.
Friday Chicken #151: Hat Parade! Is it just one guy?
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.
Yet again I protest! How could it possibly be Friday?
But here we are.
Let’s find out what actually happened this week.
The hard stuff
Re-entry, again.
Rally (Rally!) was so incredible.
And coming back is hard.
Still want that vacation. Any time now….
Heading towards emergency vacation territory. It really needs to happen.
I have a getaway planned for Monday but it’s one night and that isn’t enough.
Something needs to happen before I hit the point of not being able to make decisions about how to take care of myself.
Tired and sore!
Creak creak creak ow.
Poor sore mouse me!
Colossal screw-up on my part.
Forgot that the company phone forwards to my cell because I never answer my cell.
Was having a dream about someone in Israel needing to reach me. The volume on my phone wasn’t off (it usually is), so I heard it ring.
It was crazy early in the morning. So I answered. And gave someone the worst customer service ever because I was bewildered, awakened and had no idea what they wanted.
Systems change!
I am a crankypants!
And everything is getting on my nerves.
The good stuff
Roller derby league championships.
I did the shivanautical force field warm-ups for the team we sponsor (Yeah!!! Guns N Rollers!) and they looked amazing.
Also: I was in full pink wig regalia and there are pictures (see Photo #6). It was, as Paul said, super cool destructoid!
Sadly Selma wasn’t there. She is not so much into the noise and is also kind of paranoid about being recognized. Yes.
Beautiful things from Heidi.
The marvelous Heidi sent me her Presence potion (to die for!).
And some new Playground potions for the Toy Shop.
And a beautiful book.
I love Heidi! I love the Presence potion! Love love love!
Wise reminders.
Brilliant Kitchen Table call with Joy from Adventures of Joy, talking about so many vital and important things.
She is wise and wonderful.
And now, inspired by that amazing call, I’ve been taking mini-silent-retreats all week. And yelling Silent Retreat!
Silliness in the Chattery.
We were playing and goofing off in the Chattery after the Kitchen Table call, and ended up forming a group called RATS (Retreating Alone Together Silently).
And also re-acronymizing ROI (“return on investment”) to be more fun.
I started by suggesting Retreating On Instinct. And then we came up with some more:
Reframing Oodles of Intentions!
Refreshing Oceans of Icecream!
Reclaiming Our Independence!
Riddles of Inspiration!
Relishing Our Idiosyncrasies
Raving Over Intuition
Revising Our Iguanas
Radiating Our Intelligence
Raunchy Orgy of Indiscretion
Anyway, all of these are probably just one guy. But it was so much fun. Yay, Chattery!
More woe poems = everything is better now.
Writing out the crappiness of a day in poem form at the Whine Bar in my Kitchen Table program.
It is astonishing how quickly this turns pain into craft and takes out the sting. And since we aren’t actually a group of writers or poets, it also removes the “what if my writing is terrible?!” fear because writing well or doing something meaningful isn’t actually the point.
Monday night.
I got eleven hours of sleep.
Eleven. Hours. Of sleep.
In a row.
It was outrageous. It was great. I am so happy about this.
Big shivanautical understandings and epiphanies.
Related to old hurts.
And understanding more about when I need to step back and water less.
And a big realization that something I thought I discovered last month is actually something I have known for over ten years. Thanks, Shiva Nata!
Finally. Something to do with all those spam names.
This lovely post from Crys called what a bunch of characters is such a perfect example of that thing that I call counterparts.
Story!
This tiny and wonderful crayon pirate story. So great.
Thanks to Mary Elaine for telling me about it.
Rally!
Maryann wrote this beautiful piece about her experience at Rally!
And I love it. I love it so much. Read it!
Hat parade! Tomorrow!
Tomorrow is Hat Parade!
If you live in Portland, you should come. I will be there.
And … playing live at the meme beach house it’s the Fake Band of the Week!
My brother and I have this thing where we come up with ridiculous band names and then say in this really pretentious, knowing tone, “Oh, well, you know, it’s just one guy.”
This week’s band courtesy of these distressingly-named food-like things:
Umlaut Abuse
And yes, it’s really just one guy.
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 — you can join in whenever (or not) and it’s no big deal.
A story about Shuki.
Do you know Shuki?
Shuki is a plant.
Not the kind that spies on you. The kind that grows.
Shuki is not just any plant.
He’s a special kind of plant.
Special because of what he is (a money tree!) and because of where he lives (at the Playground!).
Did you know?
There is something else unusual about Shuki.
Other than the fact that he brings me luck. And the way he secretly cheers people up. And how he’s always in a pretty good mood but doesn’t shove it in your face or anything.
Shuki does not like to be watered.
I mean, he’s a plant. So you have to give him water sometimes.
But he’s happiest when he’s dry. A teeny bit of water goes a long way with Shuki.
And when you leave him alone and don’t give him too much nourishment, he thrives.
It took me a long time to learn this.
And even now sometimes I forget. Or almost forget. Or catch myself on the verge of forgetting.
Not everything wants to be cared for all the time.
Not everything wants to be aggressively fed, nurtured, worried over and tended to.
Some things thrive with very little attention. The less I poke at them, the better.
It’s outrageously counter-intuitive.
Yesterday I made Shuki a special sign. On a popsicle stick.
Because all the best signs come on popsicle sticks.
This is what it says:
Hi! My name is Shuki. I do not need to be given water — even if I look thirsty. My secret: I thrive from less.
Shuki seems to like his sign.
What are we talking about?
Shuki really truly is a plant. I didn’t make him up.
He’s not a blog-post-metaphor for approaching prosperity. Though he totally could be. Not a creation of metaphor mouse.
He is a real, live, ridiculously happy plant who is loved by the Playground.
He is also — for me — a reminder to look at how I feed things in my life.
What parts of me and my experience are genuinely longing for more attention, love, permission, care-taking?
And what parts of me and my experience could use some silent retreating, some separating, sovereignty, permission and spaciousness?
Where do I need to step back and water less?
And then I make some more popsicle stick signs.
I’m thinking about the various reminders that I’d like to (ha!) plant in my life and at the Playground.
All the ways I can remind myself and the sweet people around me that we can all gleefully take some time off from care-taking.
We can still be loving, thoughtful, kind, all of that. We can just water less sometimes.
Or if that’s too uncomfortable (Stop watering?! Are you crazy?!), maybe the practice is just being curious about which things want loving care and which things would prefer some alone time.
Internal investigations. Revue! And popsicle sticks. That’s what I’m working on right now.
Play if you’d like! And comment zen for today.
You might come up with things/people/projects in your life that might also benefit from less watering.
You might come up with experiments and hypotheses related to the above.
You might feel like writing a little poem, story or song for Shuki (he loves things that rhyme, or anything dr-seussian!) and then I can read it to him while I’m not watering him.
Or whatever you want. I don’t know. But I would love some company on this.
We all have our stuff. Working on and interacting with our stuff can be tricky, because different things set us off and because people vary. So we tread gently and make room for a variety of experiences. We don’t tell each other what to do (unless people specifically ask), and we explore in safe spaces.
Waving a popsicle stick fondly in your direction…
Kisses to Keren.