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 pink door.
My very favorite place to think about that jumbled thing that is culture is at the Playground.
It’s been nearly a year since we found the space, and in that time I have watched it transform from a tiny, sweet thing in my head and heart into the most amazing place I have ever been.
I puzzle over what exactly makes it so magical. And why does it smell so good?
Then I boggle over all the rituals, traditions, customs and stories that come together to make something the way it is.
How once that something is a thing, it continues to generate more customs, more traditions.
Why is this night different from all other nights?*
This week we’re on Rally (Rally!) and it’s the ninth Rally, so as you might imagine, we have all sorts of Rally customs that have emerged from previous rallies.
Inevitably we expand on these customs or change them. Some of these have become ritualized and set, and some become increasingly baroque, in the way of things.
* Sorry, obscure reference! See? Traditions!
And new customs are born each Rally. Each day, even.
Like yesterday when Darcy wore the flouncy floofy pirate skirt to lunch at a restaurant.
It became immediately apparent to all of us that taking things from the Costumery and wearing them out to lunch is an absolutely lovely way to bring more of Rally into the parts of our day that aren’t at the Playground.
I’m pretty sure you’ll see me this afternoon brandishing a cutlass and wearing a tiara at one of the food carts. See? Like that. It just sort of happens.
Or tonight at the wine and cheese evening (a tradition started by Jessica at the last Shiva Nata teacher training and cemented at Rally #6), we’ll be having a mini show-and-tell. I can see how that might stick too.
Who knows. By Rally #10, it might just be what we do. And it will get more interesting each time.
Traditions.
We have traditions about monsters and sunglasses and blanket forts.
We have rituals of stone skipping. We randomly yell silent retreat!
And none of this is prescriptive. It’s not about expectations of how you need to be.
It’s never this: “Okay, so this is how you have to do things.”
It’s more like this: “We kind of have this tradition of moving the fairy door around. You don’t have to do it. It’s just a thing that happens a lot.”
Customs and ritual work like code. They’re shorthand. They carry the qualities of Playground culture:
Curiosity, play, light-heartedness, invention, inspiration, creativity, agility, wonder, spaciousness and sovereignty.
Who keeps the culture?
The biggest difference between the culture of Rally and the culture of say, a city, is that no one lives at the Playground. There isn’t continuity in the same way.
The Playground is an island. And empty one, except for me and Selma.
Of course since so many people do multiple Rallies, it often happens that at any given Rally we have experienced Rallions.
I think at the current Rally there are at least two people who have already rallied.
But it won’t always happen, which means that part of my role is to be the keeper of the culture. The curator, in a way.
I can’t keep it all in my head. And that’s not the way culture works, anyway.
So I put some pieces in the PLUM (the Playground User Manual). And I have a version of the Book of Me that is a Book of Playground.
I don’t ever want the culture of Rally or of the Playground to be about expectations. I don’t want people to worry about how to be or what to do. I want the culture to hold everyone in safety, permission and amnesty.
That’s what it’s there for.
Something kind of funny. Funny-unlikely.
Yesterday at Rally I was looking for something and happened on some notes from a class I taught at my Kitchen Table program.
Notes about this thing that is culture. And it was so perfect.
Here’s what I had said, and forgotten:
Culture is all the stories that come together to create a feel for the whole.
Culture gets stronger through being tested.
Culture is subtle. It lives in your business cards, in your systems and policies, in how your space works (even if people can’t see it).
Culture is an accumulation of you-ness.
Culture creates and solves all problems.
Culture is transmitted through many things. Know your beacons.
If I were queen of an island, what would that island be like?
Door and doors.
We have this very charming fairy door at the Playground. You can see it on the contact page, of all places.
Which kind of implies that the best way to contact us is through the fairies, not sure if that’s a good idea or not.
And it’s become a thing at the Playground that whenever you see it, you move it. To a different wall or a different room or on top of a lamp or next to a treasure chest.
It sounds kind of stupid but it’s highly entertaining. And then each room ends up feeling slightly different at any given time because there’s a door or not a door, and it’s always not where you expect it.
Now we have a second fairy door, because Lisa brought us one. It’s pink! And it doesn’t get moved around at all ever.
But!
New traditions have already sprung up around it, as they do.
People bring little decorations to the pink door.
The pink door came with tiny rainboots and a bucket with a tiny key. Now there are little plants next to the door. And a ladybug and some tiny pebbles.
And someone promised to bring a footbridge. See? It’s crazy.
Biggification.
When I think about my business, and the past nearly six years, I think a lot about the beautiful things that have been accidents or surprises.
Who knew that the Friday Chicken would still be going strong after nearly three years (we haven’t missed a week and this is the 146th week…)?
We’d never have built a Refueling Station at the Playground if it hadn’t been for Crankypants McGrumblebug’s Kvetchtastic Whine Bar at the Kitchen Table.
Traditions are funny that way.
Funny and endlessly fascinating.
You plant culture in the form of love, trust, hope, gwishing and so on.
And then you see what you get, based on what it interacts with.
Play with me? And comment zen for today.
It’s a hard and complicated adventure growing a business. Or running a blog. Or doing any form of working on your stuff.
And documenting the culture of your business, or your art or your internal world is a really hard practice, because it’s so close that it’s hard to see. And because we have pain and grief about what isn’t the way we want it to be.
So this stuff can be hard.
It can also be really useful.
If you want to invent customs and rituals with me, you are welcome. And if you want to think out loud about this thing that is culture, that works too.
As always, we all have our stuff. We let other people have their stuff. And we don’t give each other advice unless people ask.
Love. And cutlasses!
A sandwich, a magic wand, desire, yes-but.
Me: I wanna sandwich! Sandwich!
Inquisitive and loving me, who might also be a fairy godmother: That seems like a reasonable thing to want. If I could wave my magic wand and get you one this very instant, would you take it?
Me: Yes! But I want it with pickles. And cheese! But … actually I really want the essence of sandwich, of having someone make it for me. Being cared for. Being given something warm and happy-making. So I guess if you’re waving the wand, I want half a sandwich, a pickle and to feel cared for and loved.
The yes-but is where all the useful information is. Always. Yay, caveats.
Once you bring out the wand, you find out what you really want.
Me: I want twenty five lovely people at the Shiva Nata teacher training.
Inquisitive and loving me: And if I could wave my magic wand and make that happen right away, would you take it?
Me: Of course, but then we’d also have to get more yoga blocks and more cushions, and more zombie apocalypse juice glasses, and if the training keeps growing beyond that we’ll need a bigger space. So I want 25 people and the resources to handle it. Hmm. I guess I need to map out what this entails and how it might work.
Like that.
I’m always looking for the yes-and.
The yes-and. The yes-but. I look for the caveats. Because that’s where desire gets both simple and complicated.
The I want it but I want it like this.
That’s where the real information is hiding. Everything that’s helpful about what you really want and need.
One of my clients: Can we work on getting me ten new coaching clients?
Me: Absolutely. So, if I waved my wand and ten new coaching clients showed up right now, would you take them?
Client: Mmm. Maybe. I mean, yes. Of course I would. But. You know, assuming that they’re the kind of people I like to work with, and they pay on time, and I still have time for my kid, and this is kind of freaking me out.
So then we know.
We know that it’s not the time to work on how we’re going to get ten more clients. At least not directly.
It’s time to set up systems in the business to ensure that this woman gets paid in advance. It’s time to make sure the copy she writes speaks to people that she adores working with. And to set up boundaries, buffers and rituals of spaciousness in her day so that her business supports her life instead of taking giant bites out of it.
Mmm. Sandwich! I may be slightly obsessed.
That’s what we work on in the hard.
But it’s not enough.
We have to work in the soft too. Because (saying this for the thirty seven millionth time), there is no biggification without destuckification.
In the soft, it might be time to talk to some monsters, do some negotiating and invent some metaphors. To head to the safe rooms.
To create safety. To invoke curiosity and play. To do what needs to be done so that we can get to the point of the unequivocal YES.
The YES of wanting.
The caveats are useful. They tell us that we aren’t at the yes.
And everything in the way of the yes is both extremely important and extremely individual (because People Vary).
There might be old painful stuff my client is dealing with about not good enough yet or what if I’ll never be ready or I don’t belong here. Probably some anxiety about growth and sustainability, and the usual fear-of-success brigade.
We don’t have to deal with it directly. We can play at the edges. We can work on all of this in sneaky and unlikely ways.
But whatever we do, we’re going to make sure that she gets clients in a way that means she’ll actually want them and be delighted about having them. Because that’s where the real work is. In whatever is hiding underneath the desire.
The main point here. Or one of them.
The thing about magic wand is that all of its power is in acknowledgment.
It doesn’t say, “You shouldn’t want that.” It doesn’t say, “That’s not what you really need.”
The wand says: “The thing you want is legitimate. So. Is that what you want? Tell me more about how you want what you want. Tell me more about the essence and qualities of what you want.”
Wanting is one of the scary, scary things. It brings up all of our pain and past experiences of hurt, grief and loss.
And, as we know from the Very Personal Ads, it is invariably conflicted.
The wand is a way in.
This unpacking-the-wanting is part of what happens at Rally (Rally!).
Not that we have wands. We totally have wands. But we play with possibility. We recognize that committing to a project is saying YES to desire, and that this means it’s going to be a little crazy for a while.
Last night we began Rally. Rally #9! And today, everyone is going to accidentally discover what their walls are. The yes-buts. The yes-ands. The what-ifs.
There will be hiding in the Refueling Station and eating of pretzel sticks and flailing the flail to find out what the patterns are.
There will be secret post-it notes and stone skipping and calling silent retreat!
Today is the day that I will find out what I want about what I want. And what needs to happen for me to feel comfortable wanting it. And that’s scary and hard.
So sparklepoints for me. And for everyone asking these hard questions.
And comment zen for today.
I sometimes think there is no topic as hard or challenging as desire.
We all have our stuff. We’re all working on our stuff. It’s a process, and sometimes that process is kind of a pain in the ass.
So we make room for other people to have their own experience, and we don’t give each other advice.
And we ask lots of questions. If you want to play (with big or small wants), I have a magic wand. So if you could have the thing, would you take it?
If there’s anything other than an enthusiastic YES, what changes/qualities/understandings would help you get to there?
Collect the caveats. Love the caveats.
p.s. Thanks to Carolyn for the magic wand question, which I use about six hundred times a day.
Very Personal Ads #97: mmmm toast
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!
Sunday! Let’s start gwishing for things.
Thing 1: excitement for the Toy Shop!
Here’s what I want:
I have been working my ass off trying to make the Toy Shop at the Playground beautiful and sparkly. Giant project.
And while there’s still plenty of work to do, we are done with round one. And I’m ready for some celebration!
Ways this could work:
At the Rally (Rally!) this week, there will be a number of people who have been at other Rallies or at the Shiva Nata teacher trainings.
They might ooh and aaah over the changes. That would be awesome.
Or I could take some time to really notice the parts of me who need acknowledgment and appreciation, and do some oo/aah-ing myself.
I can have a mini-house-warming party for the Toy Shop. Even if I don’t invite anyone.
It could just be me and the Schmoppet and a glass of wine. We could make toasts. Toasts!
My commitment.
To bring fun and light-heartedness to the process.
To play. To squeeze all the buttmonsters and pounce with the pouncers and flirt with the yowls. Yes, it’s that kind of store.
Plus we have jewelry made from spirographs!
To be full of love and support for my tiny, sweet thing.
Thing 2: epiphany-tracking.
Here’s what I want:
This week the insights are going to be flying at me like mad because this Rally is especially shivanautically-themed.
And I’d like to have some way of consolidating them, sorting them, helping them land.
Ways this could work:
Well, that could be my intention for one of the things I get epiphanies about.
Or it could even be part of my Rally project that I end up projectizing: what do I do with sparks of genius when I’m not ready to act on them yet?
My commitment.
To be present with the hard.
To let the moments of understanding do what they need to do.
To ask lots of questions, skip the stones and take notes.
Thing 3: we still need a new tech pirate and haven’t found him/her yet.
Here’s what I want:
This is an ask that has been asked a lot of times, in a variety of forms.
And for whatever reason, we haven’t found what we wanted.
So instead of just asking the ask again or posting the ad, I am going to work on this in the soft.
I am going to pay attention to what would happen in my business if we had the tech support we needed, and what my internal resistance is to bringing this person onboard.
Ways this could work:
A lot of internal work.
Asking loving, curious questions. Being the interviewer. Having faith.
Talking to the fear and the doubt.
My commitment.
My commitment is to the pirate ship.
And it is also to my own process.
So I am going to figure out what I need to feel safe before I rewrite the ask.
Thing 4: announce the stowawayship!
Here’s what I want:
There’s a stowawayship scholarship ship (which is the best kind of scholarship ever) for the June Rally (Rally!).
And while people have already started applying, I haven’t actually announced it. So I should do that.
Ways this could work:
This counts as telling you guys, right?
And I can mention it to the Kitchen Table mice.
My commitment.
To be excited about this.
So far every single time we’ve had a stowawayship, the people who have been able to come have been amazing, and it’s been a completely delightful experience.
It’s a perfect, simple solution. And I am a fan of perfect, simple solutions.
So yay stowawayship. Ship. Ship.
Progress report on past Very Personal Ads.
Just to update you on what’s happened since last time.
I wanted to do work in the soft to help me press the Pooblish button on my Shiva Nata video posts.
And I haven’t. Well, that’s not completely accurate. Stuff in the soft has shifted. Just not to the pressing-the-button point yet. Still working on it.
Then I wanted ease at the dentist, and it was a completely smooth experience, for which I am very grateful.
Trying to remember lip balm was really important. And that has not happened. Not even slightly. I’ll have to think about that one some more.
And I wanted to do some Rally prep and wow, I cannot believe how much Rally prep happened, especially since I don’t really remember asking for it.
Huge, huge, huge progress there, thanks to Cairene and the First Mate. We have a bunch of new systems in place that I’m very excited about. Verra nice!
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 #145: Potter? I hardly even know her.
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.
This is kind of weird because I most of yesterday thinking it was Friday and feeling bad about not having chickened yet.
But no! Friday. It is now. Apparently.
Chicken? Chicken!
The hard stuff
Uncomfortable realizations.
Stupid insights! Be less accurate!
Sigh.
Working through some stuff, based on Useful Information that I didn’t necessarily want to know.
Too much work!
Sphlllthgxthphhhhpt!
Is how my brain feels at the moment.
And not in the good shivanautically-confused way. Just overdone. Which is the only kind of done that happened this week.
Seeing people I love in pain.
And having to lovingly step back and let them work through it.
Always hard.
Creepy guy who hit on me on the train.
Actually, I don’t think he was trying to be creepy.
He was maybe sixteen at most and probably has no idea what more successful and less completely inappropriate ways to approach women might be.
But still. Ew ew ew.
I tried a thing and it didn’t work.
And it was expensive, time-consuming and painful and still didn’t work. Ahahahaha.
All of which brought up some old stuff about similar experiences, so I have been deep in destuckifying mode.
The good stuff
Sun!
Walking in it and sitting in it and being in the garden.
It is glorrrrrrious!
Progress!
I had this fabulous meeting with Cairene (who, by the way, will be at Rally!) and she helped me figure out a bunch of systems stuff I’d been stuck on.
And that gave me PROJECTS and, amazingly, much progress was made in that direction this week.
My toes! They are sparkly.
This is highly unusual.
But it is so.
Excited about all the changes happening at the Playground.
And also Cairene brought us these great soaps for the Playground. A duck, a pirate flag and a sovereignty crown — basically, everything I like.
And then we have been continuing with the mini-renovations. Lots of little things.
Signage. Systems. Bits of sparkle and color.
But all together it is completely transforming the place so that it is even more magical than before. As if that could even be possible. But it is.
Rally!
It starts on Monday and I am so happy.
Rally is when I get crazy amounts of stuff done, and this is exactly what I need right now.
Are you coming to the June Rally? Or July? August? Because if so, I have lovely news!
There’s a new “farm to cone” ice cream parlor coming — it’ll open just a couple blocks away from the Playground.
It’s called Salt and Straw, and it sounds amazing. How amazing?
Seriously. Look at these ice cream flavors.
Honey Balsamic Strawberry With Cracked Black Pepper. Brown Ale With Bacon, Pear With Blue Cheese. Mimosa Sorbet.
I can’t have any but you can taste them all for me and tell me what’s good.
They’ll have a cart too and you can vote on which flavors.
Short version: Come to Rally! Rally! You know, for the ice cream.
And some of the things I’ve been reading about and thinking about this week.
- Wonderful interviews with children (who told me about this?)
- Hoping that my much-adored Mr. B. can stand his ground in the world of chap-hop.
- This interview with my friend Michelle about creating a culture of inclusivity in her yoga studio. Exactly.
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 @jptownley on Twitter:
Planet of the Snapes
Because we haven’t made enough Harry Potter references this week.
Go see them if you get a chance. 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.
And then I yell SILENT RETREAT and run away!
There is this marvelous thing that lives at the Playground.
This is actually something I invented for one of the early Rallies (Rally!), and it’s become a huge part of Rally culture.
It’s the right to decide at any given moment that you don’t feel like talking. And then claiming that right.
You can do it in the middle of a conversation, alone in the bathroom, at lunch, during the Evening Chicken, while wearing a teal wig, whenever you feel like it.
You declare Silent Retreat and then you don’t have to talk!
It’s not really what it sounds like.
That is to say, it’s not actually a silent retreat.
You don’t have to be in silence or remain in silence. And you don’t have to maintain silent retreat mode for any period of time.
It’s just an easy, graceful, temporarily-socially-acceptable exit from any situation.
If someone asks you a question while you’re at the Playground, it’s completely legitimate to answer with “You know what, I’m going to silent retreat on that one.”
And then you can talk about something else. Or not talk at all.
And when people from the outside world ask you what you’re doing in Portland, or your family wants to know what you did all day, claim Silent Retreat!
Or when you get that feeling that you just don’t know what to say. Or you remember that not everything requires a response… call Silent Retreat. Silent Retreat!
It gets you out of any sticky situation.
When someone is ranting.
I’d love to talk about this some more, but I’m on silent retreat.
When people need things from you.
Actually? I’m in the middle of a silent retreat.
When you need a buffer — or a moment to yourself to process things. When you fall into Internet Hangover. When you lose your connection to yourself.
Excuse me. Silent Retreat!
Or like this:
I’m going to answer your first two questions and then I’m going to invoke Silent Retreat for the third.
It’s good for HSPs (Highly Sensitive People) and other stripes of introvert. But really — when it’s part of the agreed-upon culture, the way it is at Rally — it’s good for everyone involved.
It also solves the pre-Rally “oh god we’re going to have to go around in a circle and share things” anxiety. You won’t ever have to do that unless you want to. Silent retreating is always an option.
Silent retreating is a sovereignty practice.
It combines lots of things we talk about here: sovereignty and amnesty, freedom and spaciousness.
If someone else declares silent retreat in the middle of a conversation, it’s not because you did anything wrong. It’s because they need spaciousness and they’re making sure they get it.
It’s another opportunity to separate our stuff from their stuff.
Calling silent retreat makes a lot of space. It’s a creative form of finding a buffer. It helps us with boundaries. And just knowing it’s an option makes all communication and all interactions easier.
The truth is, people hardly ever actually declare Silent Retreat at Rally. At least, not out loud or that I know of. But we know we can!
And it makes everything easier.
The real world!
The concept of silent-retreating is one of the things people miss most when Rally is over.
That and the blanket forts and the brain-flail and the epiphanies and the pie. And Rally glow, of course. 🙂
The idea that we can just declare our choice to not talk — and do this whenever we want to — is one of the aspects of Rally that I am most determined to bring out into the broader culture.
Can you imagine? I love it so much I can hardly stand it.
Person: So what do you do for a living?
Me: Silent Retreat!My un-laws: …
Me: Uh, Silent Retreat!Person: So six of the top seven roller derby teams in the world are in your division. How is Portland ever going to make it to nationals?
Me: Silent Retreat!
And of course, STYLE!
When I declare silent retreat, I don’t just say it.
I do the Full Body silent retreat. I kind of kick up my legs and throw in some jazz hands and sing SILENT RETREAT!
And then I run away.
It’s kind of awesome.
You can do a more muted, whispered one if you like that better. There’s really no one right way to claim silent retreat. It’s all good.
Silent retreating also kind of exists here on the blog too.
Or it’s implied.
It’s why the comment zen here is always basically a version of: Play — if you want to! Or don’t! That works too.
That’s because the option of SILENT RETREAT is assumed. We don’t always want to say stuff and that’s okay. There are tens of thousands of people who read this blog who never or rarely comment here and that’s good. We adore the Beloved Lurkers.
Speaking of which…play? SILENT RETREAT!
You can play by yelling SILENT RETREAT and running away.
You can play by leaving tiny pebbles.
You can play by brainstorming ways in which we can bring the goodness of randomly claiming silent retreat into the real world the muggle world out there.
It’s all legitimate.
As always, we take responsibility for our own stuff, we let other people have their stuff, and we don’t give unsolicited advice. That is all.
Love to the commenter mice, the Beloved Lurkers, everyone claiming SILENT RETREAT and everyone who reads.