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.
Very Personal Ads #90: in search of a Collaspable Frink
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: I’d like my energy back, please.
Here’s what I want:
To be over the tired, the cranky, the grumpy.
In a way that’s nonviolent and mindful: something that does not involve pushing or forcing, but also isn’t just about sleeping it off.
Ways this could work:
I could remember to take my iron, which always helps.
More walking. Short, brisk, let’s-go-to-the-park walks.
Talking to Tired Me and to Slightly Future Me, who knows more about this than I do.
My commitment.
To be curious and loving. To avoid all things prescriptive. To ask smart questions.
To not fight with what I learn. To be willing to be surprised.
Thing 2: Dr. Seuss books for the Playground.
Here’s what I want:
The Playground is in need of some Dr. Seuss books!
Ways this could work:
Used bookstores! Yard sales!
Putting out the word.
Maybe you have some that you are ready to give to a new home.
I don’t know.
My commitment.
To connect to the feeling: the loopy, quirky, colorful, anything-is-possible feeling.
To remember to ask.
To keep looking.
Thing 3: the last couple people for the April Rally (Rally!)
Here’s what I want:
We are mostly full for the next Rally (Rally!), which is an extremely fun one. April 11 – 14! That’s Monday – Thursday.
And it will change how you approach projects forever, but in a really good way.
I would like the last of the sign-ups to come in, so I can go back to decorating and planning for it to be fabulous. And to jumping up and down with my excitement to play with the Rally mice.
Ways this could work:
Obviously, I have to remember to tell people. That’s usually a good plan.
And I really do not want to do any convincing.
However, I am willing to share results.
(So at the last Rally, one person mapped out her entire novel in an hour, after avoiding it for like, a decade or something. I solved two massive problems in my business that had previously seemed like giant walls. And that’s not even the cool stuff.)
In the hard, there are all sorts of systems things I can be working on. I’m sure it would also help to get the Playground website up one of these years too.
And in the soft, there are all sorts of useful questions (like these) that I can ask, to see what comes up.
My commitment.
To write love letters.
To adore everyone who comes.
To do a little dance.
Thing 4: a Refueling Station for meeeeee!
Here’s what I want:
At the Playground we have a Refueling Station.
This is an idea that was born inside of Crankypants McGrumblebug’s Kvetchtastic Whine Bar (part of my Kitchen Table program). And then we translated it to the Playground.
It’s this special room that you get to go to when you need a moment.
You can draw the curtain and be all by yourself or leave it open if you’d like company.
There is a hammock and a giant pink beanbag chair and lots and lots of blankets and cushions.
It is a marvelous place to hide. I want one of my own, in my office Wish Room at Hoppy House.
Ways this could work:
I do not know. I cleaned out a space for it about two years ago. Put up the sign for it in June.
And nothing has happened. Apparently it scares me.
So really the ask is not so much for the refueling station but for help becoming the kind of person who feels okay investing in herself and her space.
I know I want the kind of refueling station that I would make for someone else.
And I’m not sure what would need to happen for me to be able to do that.
My commitment.
To be curious. To ask lots of loving question.
To bring in the monster negotiators to negotiate for me.
To find out what I would do in a variety of situations that are not this one.
To be patient, because this is a big symbolic thing, for a variety of reasons, and I don’t need to resolve it right this second.
Progress report on past Very Personal Ads.
Just to update you on what’s happened since last time.
I wanted to find a special mirror. Thank you for the lovely suggestions in the comments. I’m definitely feeling more comfortable about the idea of it, so that is definitely a start. 🙂
Then I wanted help with input and decisions for new Rally schwag, and I have some really good ideas. So yay.
I asked for clarity to make a decision, and got some. Though have I made the decision? Not at all. But at least I have a lot more information about what I want.
And I wanted my potentially uncomfortable meeting to be a happy one, and it totally was. It was so…. full of ease. I’m kind of in awe. Thank you for all your help and all the good wishes.
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 #138: fog, dragons, ketchup.
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.
I don’t care if Monday’s blue. Tuesday’s grey and Wednesday too.
Here we are.
The hard stuff
Preparing for meetings.
I’m getting better at it, but it still kind of stresses me out.
And it takes time.
And blech being a grown-up is stupid and annoying why should I have to have meetings not fair not fair not fair!
Yeah.
Trying to cram way too many things in before going on holiday.
Honestly, the first half of this week is a blur. It’s been a weird, disjointed week.
An anxious blur. The worst kind!
Why are there not more words for types of vacations?
I want to be on the kind of holiday that is just napping and staring out into space and walking by the water.
My gentleman friend wanted to be on the kind of holiday where you go out and see stuff. Museums! Tours of cool old houses!
I also like these things, so I was thoroughly enjoying myself, which meant it took forever until I realized that this kind of vacation wasn’t giving me the thing I wanted.
Can someone please share creative vocabulary solutions for this?
Astonishingly, this has only happened ONCE.
Managed to get locked out of the Playground.
In my slippers.
With keys, wallet and phone inside.
Had to walk thirty minutes to get home. In slippers.
Luckily, the gentleman friend was there to let me in, in my key-less state. And it wasn’t raining. And it hadn’t rained for a while so no puddles to jump over. Jumping is hard in slippers.
And I live in northeast Portland and not northwest, so walking around town in slippers wasn’t all that unusual. Mainly I’m just surprised that this doesn’t happen every week.
So many people I love going through the hard.
There isn’t anything you can do about it except to wish them love and comfort. And pray, if that’s your thing.
Intentional not doing is its own form of process. And it’s not an easy one for me.
Got a not-good-news.
And I can’t talk about it yet.
Vacation was way too short.
Leaving beautiful Astoria, Oregon this morning and totally sad about that.
Symbolic vacation is a start but really, all I want is more.
Onto the good, please!
The good stuff
All sorts of reasons for things not being awful.
It was Purim! I went for long walks! We (Guns N Rollers — the team I sponsor) didn’t lose by a million points at Roller Derby, despite being at the very bottom of the local league, for a variety of reasons, and that was good!
See? Good!
The meetings all went really well.
Lots of ease.
Everything went smoothly.
Everyone I had to deal with was lovely and accommodating.
The guy at the shoe store.
This made my week.
I went to get sneakers after mine died a horrible death.
The guy working there accidentally dropped four boxes on the floor next to me and then said, “Whoah! I’m throwing shoes at you! I’m so sorry! No one should throw shoes at you!”
Of course he had no way of knowing that I spend most of my time on this blog writing about shoe-throwing and reactions to shoes, perceived or otherwise.
At least I hope not. I mean, Selma was hiding in my bag. And I take pains to look nothing like my picture.
Anyway, so true.
Long walks in new shoes.
Interspersed with long periods of ketchup and consolidation, after all the things I learned and processed in the last Rally (Rally!).
VACATION!
Even a short holiday is still a holiday.
And this one was just beautiful.
Astoria combines everything I like: ships, water, ocean, river, boat-watching, beer.
I spent the entire time on the window seat, watching the water. And looking up all the ships that went by on my phone. Yes, I have multiple ship-tracking apps, because I am not only a pirate queen but a big dork.
Love love love love love love love. More, please!
Updatings!
Finally updated my LinkedIn page after oh, three years or something.
And made notes about other things that are to be updated. Soon.
This is exactly the type of thing that I hate and avoid, so ten thousand sparklepoints for me. I am calling this project Ketchup Daisies (not a band), and you will be hearing more about this soon.
Presents for the Playground.
Even though I didn’t find my mirror, in a town full of antique shops.
And even though I fell in love with a giant (I mean, giant) dragon sculpture and a larger-than-me-sized-but-not-giant zebra art, and couldn’t keep them, I did find a tiny dragon puppet that was perfect.
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 is:
Shrew Zen
And their debut album is called Spurning Without Spurning.
They’re playing in town all week. Except that it’s really just one guy. Thanks to @senseijames who gave me the name.
That’s it for me …
And yes yes yes, of course you can join in my Friday ritual right here in the comments bit if you feel like it.
Yeah? Anything hard and/or good happen in your week?
And, as always, have a glorrrrrrrrrrrrious day and a restful weekend-ing.
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.
Thoughtful Bathrooms.
One day, in addition to the Playground, I will also run a yoga studio.
A very unconventional yoga studio. There will be nap time and yoga nidra and old Turkish lady yoga, and plenty of Shiva Nata and related shivanautical goodness.
And, of course, there will *not* be barbie doll instructors in leotards. No mirrors. It will be more like the Playground (playful! magical!), but not hidden to the general public.
Anyway, I’ve been working on this for a while but it’s still mostly in gwish form. Gwish!
The thing I’m paying attention to right now is bathrooms. The thoughtful kind.
What is a thoughtful bathroom?
The experience of being there tells you someone has put conscious effort into figuring out how to make you feel cared for. And welcome.
At Michelle’s lovely studio in Sacramento (Selma and I were just there in December to teach a segment of her teacher training program), she has a little bowl of hair bands.
In case you have lots of hair and you forgot one and now your hair is in your face. This happens to me all the time.
I thought this was the sweetest thing. We have one in the Playground now — in the Treasure Room, right next to the orange tray of orange ear plugs.
So I’ve been collecting.
Every time I visit a washroom, I am keeping watch for objects and symbols: whatever is kind, generous, considerate.
Then I try to figure out how we can use this in some other context at the Playground, and what I can plan for when we open the studio.
At New Seasons, they have a bowl of tampons in the ladies.
At the Playground we have a box of lady supplies, donated by a generous Friend of Playground. It currently resides in the Galley (in the cabinet under the sink).
They also have a little foot stool, perfect for a kid to step up and dry hands.
And a respectful, well worded sign. Most signs tend to either be bossy or begging. Whenever I find a really clear and sovereign sign, I jot it down in my little notebook.
Looking for congruence.
A place I love to visit in Portland is the Tin Shed. Mostly because the food is amazing — if you come to a Rally, we can totally go.
If you are a past Rallion, weigh in. Is this place not marvelous?
But I just love the restroom. Plenty of space. The lighting doesn’t make you look half dead, which I appreciate.
And then the changing table. It’s not some plastic thing that needs to be pulled out of the wall.
It’s this nice wooden piece of furniture that looks and feels like a real thing. It’s not just a nod to people who have kids live in Bolivia. It’s really lovely.
More important, it is congruent, to use a Hiro-ism.
The changing table matches the essence of what they do, and it feels harmonious with the rest of their business: homemade, friendly, unpretentious.
Speaking of Hiro.
Speaking of Hiro, I love visiting her. And not only because I love her to pieces.
When you are her guest, everything is welcoming.
And the bathroom is the best. There are always flowers. Delicious smelling lavender body wash. Plenty of everything you could possibly need.
You can’t help but think, this is the most incredibly hospitable place in the world and I never want to leave.
And it makes sense, because Hiro’s work is all about helping you belong in your life. So it’s a loving space, because that’s how she lives.
How to apply this to everything.
Being the owner of a business, I’m constantly thinking about how to apply everything to business.
And being a conscious, mindful destuckifier, I’m also trying to think about how to apply these concepts to everything else in life.
Obviously you don’t need to have an actual bathroom to have a thoughtful bathroom. I’m thinking about things like this:
What would a thoughtful contact form on a website look and feel like?
Or a thoughtful welcome packet for an online course or program.
A thoughtful policies page for your Etsy shop.
Or if you do have a bricks and mortar space, how to look from the outside like you might be the kind of place that has a thoughtful bathroom.
Where to start.
I’m looking at what the qualities of my business and the essential personality of its culture, so that I can make everything more congruent.
And examining my gwishes to get more information about what their essence is.
I think there’s something so powerful (and also marvelously subversive) in making business be about congruence and essence, instead of focusing on things like “how to build a list” or “what headlines make people click”.
Because when you’re paying attention to the feeling/experience/qualities you want both you and your people to have, that other stuff gets easier.
It becomes both less essential and more do-able.
This kind of practice also makes goals and wishes less elusive. More tangible. I may not have my studio for a while, but I know exactly how my people will feel once they’re there. And let me tell you, they will freaking love the bathroom. I can’t wait until you see it.
Play! And the comment zen blanket fort.
Here’s what I would love:
Stories or bits of information about bathrooms you adore, or other ways that businesses you like radiate qualities and make you feel at home.
And it would be neat if we could do some brainstorming about ways we can all apply this, whether to online business or life in general.
Business is a full-of-triggers thing for a lot of us, so we make room for everyone to have their stuff and we comfort our monsters as best we can.
We share our own experience without giving each other advice, unless people ask for it, in which case go for it.
And I need to end this post now because trying not to make the just one guy joke about Thoughtful Bathrooms is killing me. I need to save a fake band for tomorrow, right? Kisses!
Planning without planning.
There was a time (fine, whatever, most of my life) when I didn’t prepare for things. At all. I didn’t see the point.
Thinking about whatever was approaching was stressful, and the dreaded doom of doom was going to happen anyway. Why bother. Avoidance mouse!
Then there was the period of over-preparing.
About eight years ago, I had the Shiva Nata induced epiphany that I am, in fact, a perfectionist.
This surprised no one, other than myself.
Me: Ohmygod I’m a perfectionist. A perfectionist! How is that even possible.
All my friends: Yawn. Bored. Tell us something we don’t know.
Me: What are you talking about? I have seriously done nothing but sit on a couch and drink beer for the last decade. And you know that, because you were there. You brought the beer! And when I’m not at work behind the bar, I’m sitting at the bar or we’re here.
All my friends: But it was always obvious that you only do nothing because of the paralyzing fear that doing something might involve not getting it right.
Me: I hate you all, you perceptive sons of bitches.
Actually, I called them sons of whores because that’s how you say it in Hebrew. But the rest is pretty much how it happened.
Anyway. They were right.
So I decided to claim it.
I decided that I did want to make stuff happen. I wanted out of this life-run-by-fear experience. To be a full-time writer and yoga and Shiva Nata teacher instead of just thinking about it.
Unsurprisingly, I didn’t really know what to do with that, so I figured I had to make peace with the perfectionism.
And proceeded to just over-plan the hell out of everything.
Because hey, perfectionism kind of made sense. Until then it didn’t again.
Then we went back to under-preparing.
Because teaching was so much fun.
And it was always more fun if you had no idea what was going to happen.
The surprises! The exploration! The epiphanies!
It was good, but there was still something missing and the pendulum swung back around.
I’ll spare you the rest of the history of the perfectionism-procrastination roller-coaster and ensuing shivanautical understandings. Fast forwarding to how I do things now.
How I do things now involves lots of prep time, but no planning at all.
What I’m preparing is the situation in which I am most in my me-ness, and least in my stuff.
Messing around with the video game, adjusting my invisible crown, connecting to Slightly Future Me and finding out what I need to feel comfortable in any given interaction.
Yesterday I had two meetings. Another one today. Highly unusual. And, according to the Book of Me, that’s probably too many.
But here’s what I did to intentionally prepare-while-not-preparing.
I didn’t go over what I would say or what I would do if X happened or if Y didn’t happen. Instead, I asked a bunch of questions and then scribbled answers:
1. What does this remind me of?
Am I going into past experiences of meetings or uncomfortable interactions?
Am I accidentally getting triggered into thinking this is going to be like that one traumatic altercation from then? Or like stressful family meetings of doom?
Are there parts of me that are not stuck back then and feeling tense? What do they need?
2. How is now not then?
If I keep getting pulled into that situation or a certain unsuccessful encounter, what’s different now?
What do I know now that I didn’t know then? What accumulated experience, resources and insights are available to me now?
How is my situation now a completely different thing than whatever it is I’m worried about repeating?
3. What qualities do I want to bring to this encounter?
Courage. Love. Sovereignty. Possibility.
And clear, strong, powerful, flexible, loving, healthy boundaries.
And I want to be able to be really present for this, without imagining what might be going on.
Thanks to Hiro for reminding me to ask this question, which is the best question ever, and for the lesson that I don’t have to do anything to embody the qualities I’m asking for other than remember them.
4. What do I want?
Oh! I want help maintaining clear vision. Staying connected to myself.
To stand unapologetically in what I want, without pushing.
To remember that there is a simple solution that is good for everyone involved. Possibly even many solutions.
5. What do we have in common?
Ten things. This is the extremely useful and in-need-of-a-new-name thing that I call the Alignment Exercise.
See: PTSD and Encroachers, both unpleasant and awkward conversations, and phone call dread.
6. And how will this experience help me in the future?
What is now teaching me about next time?
How am I setting things up to be less crappy and more supportive for Future Me?
7. Without having to appreciate this situation, what might be useful about it?
If this is a turning point — which who knows, it could be, theoretically — what is the useful thing that results from me being here in this situation now?
8. What might help this encounter be less agonizing more harmonious?
I can read the letter of reminders that lives in my Teaching Anthology.
I can write a Very Personal Ad to get clearer on what I want.
Even if I’m not clear on the desired outcome, I can recognize the feeling. That’s a start.
So here we are.
It’s definitely a lot of preparing. But it’s a different kind of preparing.
Curiosity-driven, not anxiety-driven. Figuring out what needs to change in my kingdom, and not what needs to change in other people. This is new.
And mostly, the point of this internal preparation time is to support me so when the meeting is over, I’m not analyzing it and second-guessing it to death.
It’s putting in the time beforehand so that the experience itself is smoother.
I like it. Anxious Me gets the comfort of structure without needing to control things. And Screw-it-all Me gets the freedom to allow for surprising possibilities, without the disaster scenario monsters running wild.
And comment zen for today.
Oh, I would love to know if anyone else hangs out on the perfectionism-avoidance rollercoasters.
And ways you’re rewriting or thinking about “preparation” (hmmm, still not loving the word, maybe we need metaphor mouse?), to be supportive and not stressful.
And I would like sparklepoints for having survived a day of meetings unscathed. Sparklepoints! I’ll share!
As always, we all have our stuff and we’re all working on our stuff. No advice, just love.
xox
Flipping the spies.
Over the past five and a half years of running this business, I’ve read all sorts of books that deal with what I think of as the general theme of space:
That is to say, organizing, decluttering, systems, and the fascinating but depressingly-named field of “time management”.
And just about every book recommends that you spy on yourself. Different biggified experts recommend different ways of doing this, but the idea is the same.
They want you to take time and figure out what your systems are or how you use your time or where you put things.
I never do these exercises.
Not that I don’t get the appeal, because I do.
The essence of the spying practice is all about things I like:
Observation, play, mindfulness, curiosity, wonder, sneaking around the stuck and accessing possibility.
And pattern-finding, which is my greatest love.
But I don’t ever feel like spying on myself.
So last week I went to work on finding out what’s up with that.
Here’s the deal.
After ten minutes of my favorite pattern-detangling method — flailing around disastrously with Shiva Nata to facilitate the unlikely realizations — I started asking questions.
And bing bing there it was.
The reason I’ve been avoiding this tracking exercise for years:
There is a part of me who is seriously afraid of all the mean-yet-accurate things my internal spies will see. With their brutally devastating insight, they’ll nail everything that’s wrong about me.
It won’t just be information about what I can change or do differently. No, it will be perceptive, cogent, well-thought-out insights about how much I suck and how disastrously I run my life.
Ah. Okay.
So we have to turn the spies.
Time to subvert the system. Turn them over to our side. Get them to be a very different kind of spy. Here’s the set-up.
These spies are only looking for information about my me-ness. My essence. They’re looking for the qualities that inform the Land of Havi.
They aren’t trying to figure out how to help me or how to fix me. They don’t have an agenda. They are full of love. Like Hiro or Cairene or Shannon or other friends who get me and appreciate me.
They are only interested in knowing what I appreciate and what I care about.
And I don’t have to receive the information directly. It can be a mediated experience. I can spy on them, if I want.
They’ll say what good things they learned about my space and I will listen in, but they won’t be able to see me because I am hiding.
What shiny things do my pro-me secret agents uncover?
This is what they said about me, based on my office — my much-neglected Pirate Queen Quarters at the Playground.
Havi likes simplicity and spaciousness.
She appreciates color and richness — collections of wonderfully colorful things, and also vast expanses of emptiness and white space to balance it. This is important to her.
Havi lines up her notebooks. She likes bowls of things. She avoids what is conventional.
There is an interesting combination of abundant collections and this very zen spare thing.
She likes to draw and she doesn’t tell anyone about it.
Nothing goes on the wall until she knows for sure. She gives careful consideration to decision-making. She cares a lot about each decision.
Havi loves to write. She likes bold colors in small doses. She is very busy.
She likes order and structure, comfort and simplicity.
She does not care for desks and chairs.
She’s a classy lady.
Hmmm. Interesting.
The only part that seemed really out there was the classy lady part, since I’m pretty sure no one who has ever met me would describe me that way. But it made me smile.
Everything else rang true.
There was a part that the spies wanted to say — about how I put the needs of my students in front of everything — but they knew I’d take that wrong.
So instead they said that they appreciate all the work I’m doing to be respectful of my internal and external space, and that it was an honor to be invited.
And then I came in and thanked them, and then we went out to the cafe down the street and had drinks.
Finding the way that works.
It occurs to me that my fear of learning uncomfortable things about myself through examining my space is probably a parallel to the fear a lot of my people have about doing Shiva Nata — that they’ll see the patterns they don’t want to see.
And even though the shivanautical realizations are often so full of sweetness, I get how that could seem really intimidating.
I’m glad I did the exercise. Also glad that I waited until now. And relieved that I was able to find a way to rewrite it for my own purposes. Because it was really useful.
And it ended up giving me another sneaky idea that actually resolved a ridiculously old piece of stuck.
Playing. And comment zen in the blanket fort.
If you want to subvert this exercise in a variety of ways, go for it. Make it your own.
I would love to know if you also avoid these appealing-yet-intimidating mindfulness exercises in books. My plan is to keep flailing with Shiva Nata to brainstorm more loopholes and alternative experiments
As always, we all have our stuff. We let everyone else have their stuff. We talk about our own experiences, knowing that sharing our personal stories online is vulnerable, which is why we don’t give unsolicited advice.
That is all. Hugs. Super secret spy handshakes. And code words, of course.