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.
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.
Very Personal Ads #89: popsicle stick permission slips
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 aspect of what I want. Join in if you like!
Thing 1: a mirror.
Here’s what I want:
All my journaling at Rally (Rally!) this past week ended up circling back to this symbol or image of a mirror.
A large mirror with a gorgeous frame. You know, an overly-complicated-and-curlicued gilt frame.
This is something that is so not my style and yet here it is, and I want one. I’m going to put it in my much-neglected Pirate Queen Quarters at the Playground.
Ways this could work:
A trip to one of Portland’s many fabulous vintage stores.
A surprising and unlikely sale (a garage sale? somewhere in the neighborhood?).
One of my local readers knows of one or has one?
I don’t know.
My commitment.
To stay receptive to a wide variety of ways for this to work out.
To do the work in the soft — on my own stuck/fears/monsters related to this want.
To sing it a little song.
Thing 2: Input and decisions about Rally schwag and specialty items.
Here’s what I want:
We’ve been looking into new things to use as Rally schwag and to have for sale in the Playground’s Toy Shop.
So far we have the extra-cheery orange Playground mugs and the stickers.
We are currently working on super secret destuckifying card sets, and I can’t decide what’s next.
We want everything we make to be: cheerful, playful, silly, fun and infused with the delight that is Rallying.
Possible things?
Calendars for next year with pictures of different Playground nooks and crannies, and some illustrations too.
Silly beermats. Hoodies. Bags. Playground notepads with the Jolly Selma or the crazy Playground flag. Scribble-books for the stone-skipping exercises.
Ways this could work:
I can flail on it, of course.
And solicit input from the Kitchen Table mice.
I can ask you guys for ideas and preferences and support. And put up a question at the Frolicsome Bar as well.
My commitment.
To stay curious. To imagine what would be the most fun.
To run around the Playground with my magic wand and my popsicle stick permission slips and see what happens.
Thing 3: Clarity.
Here’s what I want:
Oh so many decisions to be made this coming week. Some overwhelming and some tiny.
I would like to just know.
Or if not that, I would like little inklings of the right way. Or if not that, I would like to be able to trust that whatever I try is useful.
Ways this could work:
Practice practice practice.
Write about it, dance on it, break out the magic markers and the construction paper.
My commitment.
I know that whatever I’m wrong about is useful.
And I am receptive to perfect, simple, solutions.
Thing 4: A happy meeting.
Here’s what I want:
I’m meeting with one of my Playground neighbors this week.
Here’s my gwish:
That we laugh together and enjoy our talk, in a peaceful, curious, warm environment.
I would like us to be able to find creative solutions to what might be a potential challenge, and I’d like this to happen in a quiet, easy, simple way.
Ways this could work:
Obviously I can NVC it.
But you know what? I’d really just like to be able to show up and play, knowing that we can put our heads together and come up with something more beautiful than either one of us could alone.
My commitment.
To talk to any sad, scared selves beforehand. To make sure my fuzzball monsters have enough mashed potatoes in their safe room. To bring the most sovereign me to the front of the V.
To really be present for this. And to assume good things. Not that there wouldn’t be. But to assume.
Progress report on past Very Personal Ads.
Just to update you on what’s happened since last time.
Let’s see. I wanted to make big progress on the PLUM (the Playground User Manual), and that totally happened.
The next ask was about other binder-ey things, which is cracking me up right now, because I’d meant something specific but actually this past week of Rally ended up giving birth to all sorts of new binders that I hadn’t known about yet.
Like the Chickenalmanacomatic. Yes.
Then I’d wanted closings, and progress on that. Not sure. Something is moving there, but this needs more love and attention.
And finally, I wanted to plan my next vacation. And I haven’t. But I did stick a sheet on the wall for my imaginary Chief Holiday Officer to put up a proposal. And that’s a start.
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.
p.s. A chag purim sameach to everyone who celebrates.
Friday Chicken #137: Bounce. Fly. Bounce. Fly.
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.
The hard stuff
Still tired.
Blah, boring. Take that damn vacation already. Or at least pretend you have mono.
Weather gloom.
Come on, Portland.
It’s cherry-blossom-week. It’s time to be your most shiny and beautiful.
I am very serious. Let’s do this.
Stupid stupid daylight savings throws me off track like you would not believe.
I was the biggest confused cranky-mouse this week because of being half jet-lagged.
Everything was stupid and bewildering and wrong this week. Also, please do not take light away from a morning person who is recovering from winter. It is not nice.
A symbolic thing I take way too seriously.
A symbolic thing that has, I’m assuming, no actual impact on my life, threw me into alternating panic and depression this week. Ugh.
And now I can’t stop obsessing over it.
Too many projects. Caring about all of them. .
And then, if that weren’t enough, lots of post ideas no time to work on them.
I then invariably proceed to write what seems like the perfect reminder note, but then no, it’s gone. No more idea.
And I’m left wondering what I possibly could have meant by Thoughtful Bathrooms. (Is it just one guy?)
Okay, actually, I think I could still write that one, but really, how much could I honestly have to say about Permission Slip Popsicle Sticks? Are they not self-explanatory?
But the post! It was so beautiful in my head before it vanished. Alas.
The good stuff
Happy Hoppy House.
New and wonderful things happening to my beloved Hoppy House.
We planted a beautiful tree.
And Svevo, my marvelous uncle who is full or surprises and whom you probably remember from endless mentions here, managed to procure one of the exact kind of rocking chair that lives in his magical house in the woods.
And now it is in our living room.
It’s like a piece of Svevo-land with me all the time. I love it. Best present ever.
Rally! Of course.
Ohmygod. As one of the Rallions said, I got so much done that it’s just stupid.
Exactly. It is outrageous how much progress has been made on things. And how good I feel about it.
Huge.
And the Rallions were amazing. And smart. No big surprise there. And it was fun.
Bounce-FLYYYYY!.
The shivanautical epiphanies were absolutely massive this time. My mind: it is blown.
And that’s because we were doing all kinds of crazy things with the practice.
We did it with scarves. We did it with symbols. We did it with words we invented on the spot:
Like Bounce-Landing-Giving-FLYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY.
The realizations and insights of this past week are really pretty astonishing. I’m still processing but wow.
I got my picture taken and did not cry. .
Not only did Jillian do an amazing job as Rally photographer and Head Shot Magician, and not only is she the loveliest person in the world, she also had special Sparklepoints stickers custom-made for me.
Because she knows I am constantly awarding myself imaginary sparklepoints. Sparklepoints for me!
So now I get to stick them on myself.
Yay!
Short, but sweet.
I decided to shorten the intro bits on these Friday Chickens and on the Very Personal Ads (you’ll see what that looks like this Sunday).
This is something I have been meaning to do for a while now.
But apparently if you subscribe by email it kind of looks like I’m writing the same exact post every Friday and Sunday because the first paragraph is the same?
Anyway, it’s way, way, way crazy shorter now. I think this is good.
And this is from last week but it still counts!
I was totally going to tell you about this last time but then having gone away for my birthday erased my brain. Roller Derby!
Portland’s Wheels of Justice looked absolutely great at the Wild West Showdown up in Washington. After a depressing loss to Denver, our girls beat the crap out of both Philly and Seattle and looked damn good doing it.
Best. Season. Ever. This is all very exciting and pretty much all I’ll be talking about over the next few months, not that this is exactly news.
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 in honor of the thing we almost always end up forgetting on the Jessica-inspired Wine & Cheese night at Rally (Rally!).
Volunteer Baguette.
They’re playing in town all week. Except that it’s really just one guy.
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 fine if it’s not Friday anymore. There’s always chicken amnesty — you can join in absolutely whenever you want.