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 second time I got fired.
The thing about memory is that it can be so tricky, as we know.
It rewrites itself in mysterious ways. In the wormholes.
And every so often I set off on another internal investigation, only to discover that I am, yet again, wrong about so many things.
That second time I got fired.
The interviewer is very nice. Compassionate, curious, an asker of quiet questions.
And here we go.
The interviewer: Would you be willing to talk about getting fired from the bar? What happened there?
Me: Well, I threw a giant stack of coasters at someone’s head. Hit him straight in the forehead. Just about knocked him off his seat.
The interviewer: *cracks up laughing*
Me: You have a very infectious laugh. And yes, I guess that is kind of funny. It wasn’t really at the time. But yes. Okay.
We both giggle for a while.
Going deeper.
The interviewer: How many coasters?
Me: I don’t know. Fifty? A pretty thick stack. I just picked them up and nailed that guy right in the head.
The interviewer: And what happened?
Me: He was stunned. Everyone thought it was hilarious. He left me a giant tip. And apologized for whatever asshat thing he had done to provoke me, which of course I don’t even remember now, even though I’m sure it was totally justified and a long time coming.
The interviewer: But then you lost your job for it.
Me: Oh god no. That wasn’t the kind of place where something like that even registered. I mean, it was out of character for me, but it wasn’t a firing offense. I don’t even think anyone cared.
The interviewer: But that’s when you left.
Me: Huh. I guess I didn’t get fired. I left.
I left.
The interviewer: Wow. And all those years we thought you’d been fired.
Me: I know! Weird, right? I didn’t get fired! But really, I probably should have been.
The interviewer: You think?
Me: I was really burnt out. And really angry. Every minute I stayed was doing more damage. It was better for everyone involved that I leave. And the person I was becoming was kind of scaring me, to be honest.
The interviewer: What was good — or useful — about leaving when you did?
Me: It was time to go. It broke a cycle. It interrupted a pattern that was hurting me.
The interviewer: And what was hard about leaving when you did?
Me: Ahahahaha. You know in a film noir when the protagonist makes some tiny, seemingly meaningless decision that then launches him into a series of irreversible consequences that ultimately lead to his doom? That’s what this was.
The interviewer: Because of this.
Me: That’s the point where it started. Everything got worse. And it kept getting worse for a looooong time before it got better.
What’s true and what’s also true?
The interviewer: Is that true, do you think?
Me: Of course it’s true! I was there. That was the first step in a chain of awful, awful events that just got increasingly more awful.
The interviewer: Alright. And what else is true?
Me: Argh. What else is true? Let’s see. That possibly all that crappy stuff might have happened anyway. Or that if I knew how to approach burnout differently, I could have avoided the cycle of doom, but I had already pushed myself so far beyond the limits that I wasn’t really there anymore.
The interviewer: Let’s talk about Herodotus.
Me: Huh?
The interviewer: You know what I mean.
Me: Oh! Direct cause and indirect cause. You’re suggesting that I’ve retroactively assigned direct cause back to this one particular day when I supposedly got fired (even though I didn’t). But actually this event might not have been a cause of what followed — or maybe only an indirect one?
What’s possible?
The interviewer: When is it useful to tell your story? When does telling the tale of what happened to you become something positive, powerful or therapeutic?
Me: When it allows you to process your experience, release pain, identify distortions (or misunderstandings), and respond to your self-from-then with love.
The interviewer: And when are these re-tellings of our personal histories less useful?
Me: Well, when we aren’t curious. Because then we’re just solidifying and reinforcing the existing unexamined narrative.
The interviewer: What is possible here, now? What can come out of this telling of your story?
Me: I’m not sure. It’s probably useful to know that I didn’t actually get fired. And that I didn’t seal my fate of doom. And that I’m not actually in a film noir, even though that whole year was unbelievably hellish. I’m here now.
The interviewer: And how is now different from then?
Me: Oh! I see. When things are rough, I think I’m launching a Cycle of Disasters. Like in Nobody’s Fool when Sully goes on a stupid streak. What if there is no stupid streak? What if messing up once doesn’t mean it’s all going to be messed up?
Retelling the retelling.
The interviewer: How are you going to tell this story now?
Me: Uh, I threw a bunch of coasters at someone’s head and he left me a giant tip and burnout is not good for me THE END?
The interviewer: Anything else?
Me: I don’t know. I will have to pay attention and investigate the narrative to see what patterns live there.
The interviewer: You know what I like about you?
Me: I don’t know how to answer this question, but you are the best interviewer ever!
The interviewer: You interact with things. Even the painful ones. But you don’t force anything.
Me: That’s the idea.
The interviewer: I just wanted to say that you’re going about this in a really good way so that later when you think this is crazy and you don’t want to post it, you’ll remember that it’s useful.
Me: Thank you.
And comment zen …
This is my own internal process. I’m not sharing it in order for it to be analyzed, or to be told what to do or to solicit theories about what’s wrong with me.
I share it in the hope that some aspect of it will be useful for other people who are also working on their own whatever-it-is.
As always, we all have our stuff. We’re all working on our stuff. It takes time. We keep this space safe by not giving each other unsolicited advice.
Things that are welcome: your own stories and experiences (especially about how tricksy memory can be), thinking out loud about this thing that is conscious self-inquiry, apple juice.
I really want some apple juice.
That’s all. Love to all the commenter mice, the Beloved Lurkers and everyone who reads.
Very Personal Ads #95: always more edges
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!
95!
We’re getting really close to one hundred consecutive weeks of VPA-ing with Very Personal Ads.
Ideas for how to celebrate?
I will start pre-emptively running around and cheering. Possibly also with balloons.
Thing 1: Chalkboard!
Here’s what I want:
Last week I redecorated and generally re-everything-ed the Toy Shop at the Playground, so that it would feel loved and adored and look beautiful and sparkly.
And now we need a chalkboard.
Chalkboard!
Ideally in time for Rally (Rally!)
Ways this could work:
I could find one on Craigslist.
One of you might have a suggestion. Or maybe one of my readers in Portland has one or knows someone who does.
My commitment.
To buy colorful chalk and yell CHALK!
To appreciate this new piece of the Playground and everything it represents.
To enjoy this period of transformation as much as I can, even as it involves working through a lot of my stuff.
Thing 2: Help and support with resolving a painful pattern.
Here’s what I want:
I’ve been encountering a lot of old hurts and stucknesses, especially as they relate to business and growth.
And it’s time to let go of a series of internal rules about how WORKING is supposed to function. I’d like this to happen with as much ease and grace as is possible.
Ways this could work:
Let’s see.
Writing. Flailing the flail to make new connections.
Talking to monsters. Bringing out the Moderators.
Consulting Slightly Future Me.
And doing old Turkish lady yoga, of course.
My commitment.
To be curious and patient.
To ask warm, loving questions without attachment to one answer or another.
To remember that one day this stuff won’t have any hold over me. I will be done with it, and working with other patterns and other pain.
Thing 3: Someone I need to forgive.
Here’s what I want:
There’s some forgiveness that needs to happen and I am not in the mood. Yet.
So I’d like some ease and relief with that.
I don’t know if actual progress will happen or not, but I’m working on it.
Ways this could work:
I can make lists of how now is not then.
Maybe do some work with metaphors.
Make space for possibility.
My commitment.
I don’t have to go directly into the pain. It is always okay to dance around the edges.
Lots and lots of safe rooms for me!
Thing 4: Confidence!
Here’s what I want:
We have dates to film some Shiva Nata video. And I have been feeling… bashful and extremely camera-shy.
It would be really great if this could start shifting.
Ways this could work:
The pink wig, of course! Everything is better with a pink wig!
Lots of gentle testing the waters. Nothing formal. Nothing set in stone.
Just curious, inquisitive, investigative practice to find out what I need to feel comfortable doing this.
My commitment.
To try things.
To laugh.
To give myself a million permission slips.
To not rush any of this.
Progress report on past Very Personal Ads.
Just to update you on what’s happened since last time.
I wanted progress on making a Shiva Nata FAQ and got so ridiculously stalled that it’s clear there is Underlying Stuff there.
So I’m going to have to rethink that ask and investigate some more. I wonder if it needs a new metaphor? Possibly.
Then I wanted a spectacularly great class with the roller derby team that I sponsor, and it was. They’re all shivanauts now!
Also I wanted to write up notes from a bunch of things, and nope, that didn’t happen either. Again, I think there are some symbolic factors at work that are worth exploring, and that’s some of what this week’s asks are about.
And I wanted to rewrite the Rally page for Rally (Rally!) and that’s where all this old pain stuff started coming from. So I’m glad I asked, because now I’m getting to do a lot of clearing-out of old gunk. Ahahahaha. It’s good timing.
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 #143: the chicken never lies
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.
Apparently it’s Friday.
That feels wrong, but the chicken never lies. So here we are. Friday!
The hard stuff
Tired and then napping and then missing half the day.
I don’t know what was going on, but man it must have been intense because I wanted to do nothing but sleep.
And half hour pick-me-up naps kept turning into four hour nap marathons.
That part was kind of nice while it was happening, but then you realize that the day is over and nothing is done, and you have to make peace with that and it turns out that I am not good at that.
Just fixed an entertaining typo — “marathorns” instead of marathons. Which tells you how I feel about marathons.
Monsters and walls and stucknesses. Lions and tigers and bears!.
Actually I lied, and I do know why I’ve been wanting to do nothing but sleep.
This week was all about the hard. I am in a serious growth period right now, and my monsters and I were in full-on negotiations, Camp David style.
Time-consuming, exhausting and painful.
Alas, no follow-through.
Last week’s amazing in-the-zone whoosh of getting things done left a bunch of loose ends that were going to all be neatly tied up this week.
But that didn’t happen.
And it took me a while to realize it wasn’t going to happen, and so I kept fighting and trying to nudge it into happening, when that’s not the way it works.
Insert ore monster-ey stuff there about how this is why projects are useless since you leave them half-finished, grumble grumble. And back to processing!
The never-ending phone calls of doom.
So I have gotten considerably better at working creatively with my intermittent phone phobia.
And instead of calls, I have secret spy missions to set up the next rendezvous and collect clues.
But this week there were about sixteen thousand of these. Sigh.
And it’s not like you feel better about anything when you’re done. Just momentary relief, followed by the realization that now you have to go to the dentist, and meet people and be nice.
Still disoriented. Calendar not helping.
Is it really truly almost May?!
How did that even happen? Oh, right. My ridiculously long Slump of Burnout. Got it.
The good stuff
Roller Derby + Shiva Nata = best thing in the entire world.
I taught a Shiva Nata class to fifteen of the Guns N Rollers (the team that Selma and I sponsor) and it was so much fun that I am still kind of in awe.
We did hard core body-brain coordination madness. There was much flailing, giggling and yelling.
We worked on blocking, hitting and sprinting, all without being on skates.
It was crazy and wonderful and I can’t wait to do it again.
Redecorating!
I always make a ton of changes at the Playground between events, but this month has been the most fun.
We have been completely redoing the Toy Shop, and it is absolutely transformed.
A ton of work this week, but so worth it. I’m feeling really good about how this neglected space is becoming so magical and sparkly!
Butt monsters! We have butt monsters, people!
The butt monsters are the most-adored things at the Playground. Everyone wants one, and I am constantly being asked if I will sell them.
Except that I love the butt-monsters too much to part with them, and the woman who makes them had disappeared.
She came back! And now we have twenty squeezy and charming butt-monsters for sale in the shop. Get them fast because they are going to disappear.
Also, I am kind of half in love with all of them, and sitting on my hands not to buy them myself.
The Shiva Nata teacher training!
It’s not until September, but just looking at the people who have already signed up, it’s going to be a seriously fantastic mix of people.
Like at the last training, there are some people who have been shiva-ing it up for a while and some people who have no idea what it is and have never tried it, but know that this will be a crazy, wonderful thing so they’re coming. I love it.
Making lots of plans and generally having fun.
Speaking of, progress!
The re-re-recording of the audio for the Shiva Nata iPhone app went really well. Better than expected.
And I learned a secret which is that wearing a pink wig makes everything easier, and so from now on I’m just going to do that for everything.
Speaking of, epiphanies!
All the Shiva Nata baking my brain has resulted in some VERY big understandings, that are doing good things in my business.
There’s no way I would have been able to handle all the monster negotiations this week without the shivanautical insights, so that was really fortunate.
Tradition. I like it.
My friend Dana found me this week having dinner.
That’s because I was at my regular place on my regular day at the regular time in my regular seat drinking my regular drink and having my regular food.
And it just made me so happy that a) I have these lovely containers for my life, and b) that my friends come and find me in them.
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 makes me giggle.
The Florida Quease
Yes, well. I imagine it’s kind of a swingy country sound. 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.
Popsicle sticks and permission slips
It seemed like the kind of day for some permission slips.
Permission to not know. Or not know how.
Permission to not have to follow everything to the end, whatever that is. Walking out of the movie is okay. So is changing the project.
Permission to wish for aspects of someone else’s superpowers, knowing that this does not in any way diminish theirs.
Permission to flail around and make mistakes, like we do in Shiva Nata.
To try things. To be wrong and have that be okay.
Permission to forget.
Even if you’ve forgotten about something that’s really important to you.
And permission to then remember it again.
When you’re ready.
Permission to be in the stuck for a while.
To hit a wall. Maybe even lots of walls.
To find yourself in the land of plateau. To stop and start. To stop and not be ready to start.
To put off X [example: reading my book on procrastination!] for as long as you want, without thinking that this is a sign that you will never get around to it.
It isn’t. It’s your process.
Seriously. It’s called the dissolve-o-matic for a reason. Dissolving doesn’t happen through force.
Permission to let everyone else have their stuff.
To return everyone else’s projections, as Hiro says.
To remember that the rising tide lifts all boats — what is good for others is not bad for you.
To cry when you need to cry and laugh when you need to laugh.
To not have to justify yourself to anyone.
Permission to not be ready.
To not have answers.
To not have a five year plan.
To not know what your thing is. To not have a thing!
To hide. To scramble. To wonder. To not know what you want. To not apologize for wanting it when you do know.
To come to the shivanautical teacher training even if you have no idea what you’re doing, just because it’s tingly.
Permission to make your own permission slips.
And tape them to popsicle sticks and wave them around, if you feel like it.
Permission to know that permission does not come from me.
It is yours. Amnesty belongs to you — it is an inherent thing like sovereignty, not something that I have and hand out. It’s everywhere.
I am going to the Playground to mess around with glitter pipe cleaners (arts and crafts supplies are so much cooler now than when I was a kid!) and make some more permission slips.
Aside! Do you know Amy? Amy also makes wearable permission slips (I’m pretty sure this is one of the ideas that she came up while rallying it up at Rally!).
If you would like to invent things to go on permission slips and share them here, that would be lovely.
And an extra permission slips for our permission slips to not have to be interesting, original or whatever. They are reminders. They exist for us.
A Dick Tracy lunchbox gave me some decent advice.
When I get stalled and stuckified — which happens all the time — I have this game I play.
You stop whatever you’re doing. You look around and find five objects.
Objects isn’t really a big enough category. Five somethings. Could also be things like colors, words or sensations.
And then you pretend that each one is a symbol. More than a symbol. A clue.
You decide that each of these somethings has some information for you. It holds some piece that you need for finding your way through the hard.
Like this.
When I go through my project notebooks or the writings from Rally (Rally!), this exercise shows up every few pages. I do it kind of a lot.
And it’s insanely helpful, both at the time I’m doing it (because it turns the stuck into play and conscious interaction), and after the fact.
It’s also fairly entertaining to peek at my notes and see what the five things are. If they’re crazy, then I was at the Playground. If they’re standard things like furniture or a window, I was in my office.
Note to self: office needs to get way more fun…
Five clues to help me make changes in a program that I teach.
- The word PUZZLE
- This fuzzy orange pipe cleaner
- “Watching the big ships”
- Wearable wings
- Pink fairy door with potted plants
And what do they want to tell me about making these changes?
Puzzle says:
Intrigue people. Make them think and make them work for it. If not by applications then maybe by doing some sort of exercise before they come. Leave clues for them.
Fuzzy orange pipe cleaner says:
The new website changes will help. Put up lots of pictures. Mention me. Describe the experiences. Make it all about play.
The idea of watching the big ships says:
Watch the ships. ORDER and PROCESS. Each piece has its place. What looks like slow progress is actually the timing of things.
The wings say:
Trust. You are doing what is needed. Stick with it.
The pink fairy door with the plants says:
There are many ways this could happen. Commit to being surprised. Run with it.
Five clues to help me know what to do next.
- Rex the pig, sprawled on his chair.
- Dick Tracy lunchbox.
- Pink stencils.
- Pirate monkey meditation cushion.
- The word SHARPIE (because I’m holding a sharpie!).
What do they know about whatever needs to happen next?
Rex the pig: Do more child’s pose!
Dick Tracy lunchbox: Carry things with you and create designated spaces.
Pink stencils: There is a shape and form for everything — just use it.
Pirate monkey cushion: Sit and be playful, because it always helps.
SHARPIE: Cut through the unknown by deciding that you’re going to play.
Five clues to help me write a blog post.
- Red lamp.
- Pink wig.
- Blooming lilacs out the window.
- Stack of coasters.
- Billy Joel.
What do they know about writing blog posts?
Red lamp: You never know who the light is going to impact, you just keep radiating.
Pink wig: Put me on and become another aspect of yourself.
Blooming lilacs: Walk outside and breathe — you’ll feel so much better.
Stack of coasters: Everything is interchangeable.
Billy Joel: *hums* Go ahead with your own life, leave me alone….
Okay!
Play with me? Caveats, ideas, comment zen…
If you can’t find five things near you, wander around until they show up. Conscious and intentional wandering around is a good way to destuckify anyway.
If you don’t like the advice they give, ask again. Or reframe the question. Or check to see that it’s not actually your fuzzball monsters trying to sabotage the game.
If the monsters say this is stupid, agree with them. And then suggest they go along with it anyway as an experiment to prove them right.
If they say it’s a waste of time, agree with them. And point out that since you’re already stuck and nothing is working, you might as well try it.
Sometimes, even when you know from experience how useful this game is, it’s still hard to remember to use it. I keep a reminder in the oh-no-everything-sucks section of the Book of Me.
Also! Reading my notes later is like running a Revue. I can see how I got out of the hard and then try to replicate it! Yay.
The usual reminder.
We all have our stuff. We’re all working on our stuff. It’s a process. We create safety for other people to share the stuff they’re working on by not giving them unsolicited advice.
If you’d like to play the Finding Five Clews thing with me, that would be lovely. And you can use this for absolutely anything, so if you want to invent other uses and experiments, that could be fun too.