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 Piling and the Depiling. Part I?
One of the things I’ve been messing around with lately is my relationship with piles of things.
I pile. I pile a lot. This is a known thing.
But it’s not just the usual Stacks of Useful Paper that I tend to think of inhabiting my pile-loving world. And it’s not just messes of iguanas and doom.
There are piles of information in my head, piles of Direct Messages on Twitter, piles of messages at the Frolicsome Bar, a wide variety of piles.
These piles serve a purpose for me. Or really: a couple of purposes.
And they are full of patterns.
The first adventure.
So I’ve been using the Rally (Rally!) — and all the madcap Shiva Nata we’re doing — to learn more about the patterns and lovingly rewire as necessary.
The mission: figuring out what I need and what the piles need and what the iguanas need.
There have been an astonishing number of resulting shivanautical moments of bing bing bing ohmygod that!!!
And much scribbling down of information and mapping of connections.
So. I thought I’d share the part I started with.
It’s a series of my Book of You questions. And here’s how I used them:
Two rounds. First round: total free-association whatever comes up. Second round: taking a bit more time to think things over.
The first round is here. I can post the second more-in-depth round too, if people are interested. Let me know.
Hey, piles. What do I know about you?
Let’s see.
Why I make them
Because it’s what I know.
How I make them
I can’t decide what to do. The iguanas take up so much space and so I hide them. I hide from them too, but mostly I am helping them hide.
The purpose they serve is
Monuments to despair and monuments to hope.
Reminders.
What I know about them, me and our relationship
We both misunderstand each other.
Where the pain is
Having things in common with X. Plus all the iguanas.
What they symbolize
Support.
Wait, what? Support?! Interesting.
Why I need them
An identity thing, maybe. Who would I be without them? No, it’s about death. It’s about goodbyes.
Why I’m done with them
They create walls and I am a wall-whisperer.
What is the connection between my past and piles:
Avoidance.
The version of me who is done with them.
She has other ways of working with systems and containers.
What I don’t know yet.
How to trust.
Playing. And the comment zen blanket fort.
What I would love:
If you wanted to think out loud about any of those questions, investigate your own relationship with piling, or do some of the super-speedy word association thing too.
A cup of tea.
If you would say Vhoooooosh! Which is the sound of stuckness dissolving and all the right spaces opening up.
What I would not love:
Please no advice, recommendations or pep talks. I am doing this in intimate thing in my way and in my own timing, and I need a lot of spaciousness with that.
As always, we all have our stuff. We’re all working on our stuff. It’s a process.
Love to all the commenter mice, the Beloved Lurkers and everyone who reads.
These are the superpowers.
One of the things we do at Rally (Rally!) is this:
We dream up superpowers.
Nothing fancy. Just whatever pops into your head in a given moment.
Some are fun. Some are silly. Some are weighted, some have capes, some are bashful, some come with provisos and caveats, some live in snow globes, some are lighter than air.
I have been collecting some of these superpowers and found that they wanted to be proclaimed. In fact, they wanted to be together. Like a kind of poem.*
So here we are.
These are my superpowers.
I can see things growing, as they’re growing. I can see them.
And I see what is there. I see what is not there.
To see through fog. Like headlights.
To know what needs to be said and what does not need to be said.
The right words appear at the right time. To name things that need names.
I can remember why I love things even when I’m not doing them.
How to find the useful in every piece of hard.
Wherever I go there is a portable refueling station.
All doors open for me.
Colors become sharper. Boundaries become apparent.
My force field becomes stronger every day.
I have a precise compass. A precise, loving compass.
Sweetness surrounds me.
Important things about superpowers.
If someone’s superpower appeals to you, it’s okay to decide you want it too.
You can begin to let that superpower begin to sift into your force field.
You do not diminish someone else’s powers by bringing a superpower into your world. There is enough for everyone. And you’re not taking it from them.
Not only can you have a superpower that someone else has named, but you can also call on some of the superpowers of the Playground, and make them yours:
Creativity, inspiration, safety, play, power, freedom, comfort, sweetness, endless possibility.
And of the Rally: Trust, silliness, experimentation, sovereignty, autonomy, support, wonder, pie. Rally!**
And of this blog: Reassurance, permission, acceptance, the ability to make up fake bands on the spot, steadiness, home.
They are there for you when you need them.
Playing! And today’s comment zen blanket fort.
Invoking a superpower is like slipping a message to your unconscious.
All these different parts of you have to start figuring out what you know about this power, and how to apply it. Which is awesome.
Being willing to be surprised is useful. It’s a practice.
And even if you’re pretty sure that the power you wish for has nothing to do with you, it’s a worthwhile experiment to stop and feel what happens when you name it.
So I thought it would be fun if we could do some naming of powers we’d like to have in our individual force fields. Play with me? Yay. Thank you!
* We had an accidental poem once, plus moons, rain, protection and a mess of iguanas.
** The February Rally is just about full but there’s still some room in March. Take a look. Rally!
Taking notes
We’re rallying at the Rally (Rally!), projectizing our projects.
And one of the things we’re doing while we work and play is this:
We’re noticing how we are what the patterns are.
We’re taking notes.
We’re asking WHY LIKE THIS? Yes, Israeli-ism.
But without judgment. Just pure curiosity.
We’re gathering information. More usefulness for the Book of You.
And here’s the section of the Book of Me that I’m working on this morning, in case you want to play too:
The Book of Me. In times of overwhelm and transition!
- Sweetie, when you feel overwhelmed, it’s probably because…
- It really helps to remember:
- It really helps to try:
- What you really want to avoid:
Play with us?
I’m going to be taking notes on this all day.
On the questions. On my relationship with the questions. On what happens if I get overwhelmed while thinking about the questions. On what happens when my project and I aren’t getting along.
Just to find out what’s there.
You can rewrite the questions. Or make up your own. It’s all play. There’s no way to do it wrong, because it’s an experiment.
Just like on Rally (Rally!), we cheer for each other, we don’t give unsolicited advice, and there are lots of snacks. Whee!
The campaign to bring back hibernation!
I am fairly certain that I am a bear. In my head.
Let it be known, for the record and for those reading who worry about me and take things literally, that I am very much not a bear. But you know what I would love?
A cave!
Berries!
And really, mostly: permission to hibernate.
What we want.
We, of course, being the Campaign to Bring Back Hibernation. Of which I am a founding member.
Much like my secret bear identity, this also exists primarily in my head.
Here are our demands! What we stand for! If we were standing. But we aren’t. That would take way too much effort.
Wouldn’t it be so lovely…
To stop when it’s dark. Or cold. Or dark and cold.
Or not to stop. But at least to have the option of stopping.
Designated warm, schnuggly, blanket-filled spaces to curl up in and hide out in.
Candles. Light. Time. To be cozy and have spaciousness at the same time.
To activate the time-space wormholes so as to be in bed more than usual. To hide without being embarrassed or annoyed about needing it.
To choose seclusion, knowing that seclusion is not isolation.
Just ask Metaphor Mouse
For me, hibernation is also a symbol.
For example, having a more conscious, intentional, playful, inquisitive relationship with time and this crazy idea that there is enough of it.
It’s all forms of intentional Not-Doing. Like meditation and napping and old Turkish lady yoga.
Hibernation is advanced sovereignty practice — the kind of thing I’d be able to do if I had more faith in my knowledge that rest is good, useful, healing, and at certain times more necessary than other times.
And it’s everything I’m already doing to take care of the borders of my kingdom. Like the Gracious No (not a band!). It’s a metaphor for choosing safety.
How to approach this more hibernation-friendly lifestyle?
I’m not entirely sure. Of course it’s definitely related to the Book of Me and the Dammit List.
I will be spending this week at the Rally (Rally!) figuring more of this out, since we’re giving special attention to Book-of-You-centered thinking.
One of the suggestions I’m taking from (the brilliant and inspiring) Cairene is to approach this experiment as if I were writing an almanac.
Because pretty much every November I’ll feel angsty, and in January I’m going to want to work less. And come August I’ll just want to write and write and write.
So I can sneak notes to my slightly future self. I can remind her that if X is happening, I’m not sad — just in need of extra hibernation. And if Y is happening, I need more Z.
Actually, I pretty much always need more Z.
We are having a parade!
For all of us who want and need permission to hibernate a little more, to hide a little longer.
I am imagining a fabulous parade, with ticker tape and confetti. We are all going as slowly as we like. Definitely not in a hurry.
In fact, maybe we’re just riding on floats or being pushed along in rolling carriages. Or riding tricycles. It’s rather a meandering parade.
We wear large sashes, like the suffragettes. And we have placards that say things like “Mmmm, tired” or “Schleeeeeeeeepy and proud!”
And we make bear paws! You know, pause. Paws! That gives me pause.
We wave permission slips. And maybe wear them too.
We have hot toddies. Or pots of tea. Warm cider. Giant sweaters. Fuzzy slippers. It’s marvelous.
Come join the campaign.
It works like this.
You have permission to feel anything you feel.
Tired and worn out? That sounds normal. Good grief. It’s January. A very acceptable thing to be going through.
Or maybe you feel excited and energized. Why not? The Hibernation Movement is a very thrilling thing to be a part of. We can use your vim and vigor.
You can wave a sign. Or not. Wear slogan-covered pajamas. Or not. Cheer as much as you like. Or call SILENT RETREAT and hide.
And comment zen for today.
We all have our stuff. We’re all working on our stuff. It’s a process.
What I’d love: cheering and happiness for the Campaign to Bring Back Hibernation. Sign ideas. Outrageous slipper descriptions. Ridiculous acronyms!
What I’d rather not have today: advice, practical or otherwise. Or facts about bears.
That’s it. Yay for national hibernation week! And for my imaginary hibernation nation! And for yawning, stretching and pillows!
Very Personal Ads #81: letting heavy things be carried away
Personal ads. They’re … personal! Very.
So my itty bitty personal ads made me realize that it’s time to make a regular practice of trying to feel okay asking for stuff.
Even when the asking thing feels weird and conflicted.
Ever since I posted the first one asking my perfect house to find me, which united me with Hoppy House, I have been a fan of the madness that is personal ads.
And now it’s my Sunday ritual for clarity and remembering and stuff like that. Yay, ritual!
Let us dooo eeeet.
Thing 1: Announcements! May they happen.
Here’s what I want:
There are two (possibly) three big things that need announcing this week.
They have most of the elements in place.
And now it’s about timing.
Ways this could work:
The Rally (Rally!) this week could do its magic, so that everything can roll into place. With a schnooooook sound. Like the last ball on the pool table.
I can talk to the monsters and switch up the front of the V.
And I can play with trust and trusting.
My commitment.
To be curious and inquisitive about every aspect of the process.
To ask lots and lots of questions.
To say wheeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
To acknowledge the hard and appreciate the good.
To dance dance dance, no matter what happens.
Thing 2: Much needed improvements at the Playground toy shop.
Here’s what I want:
Oh, so much thought has gone into this! So many hours at my beloved Playground, looking at what is and what could be.
I have pointed my wand at the walls, and I have dreamed on this. I have drawn pictures and scrawled maps and made gwishes.
At first all I knew was that the way it is needs to change. But now I know how.
For this to happen, we’ll need: money, time, resources, and strong people who can carry desks (see next ask).
Ways this could work:
I don’t know.
How do you move from the thing you see in your head into it being a reality? That was the problem I had to solve when I first envisioned the Playground itself.
And it’s the problem I am so often solving. My favorite puzzle.
How could it work?
With patience. With singing. With Dance of Shiva, of course. With bringing it to the Rally and projectizing the hell out of it.
With love.
My commitment.
To love it now and love it when we get there and love the process.
To ask smart questions.
To stop and breathe.
To connect to its essence and say thank you.
Thing 3: Movers!
Here’s what I want:
Some strong people to help move desks. Or mover recommendations.
People who will take the giant desks away.
Ways this could work:
I know of a way but I don’t like it, so I could work on finding out how to make peace with that.
Or I can ask Hope for recommendations.
My commitment.
To be receptive to being surprised.
To stay open to the idea that a perfect, simple, elegant solution could reveal itself.
To work on my stuff about moving.
To be thrilled when something works out.
Thing 4: Help Tobi help lots of people!
Here’s what I want:
Tob is the sweetest, most wonderful person. And she’s a terrific photographer.
Through the end of the month, she’s donating half the proceeds on the gorgeous prints of her work to Donna’s Good Things, which is a sweet organization doing really terrific and important things.
I would love to see this worthy project get some attention and love.
Ways this could work:
I can tell you about it.
And maybe you can pass the word.
The magic of the internet can plant some seeds, I hope.
My commitment.
To support Tobi and admire her dedication.
To remember that there are many, many ways we can bring love and support to things we care about.
To be receptive to a variety of possibilities.
Progress report on past Very Personal Ads.
Just to update you on what’s happened since last time.
I was just rereading last week’s asks and finding so much cool stuff in there.
Still no word on kids furniture, but I did come up with an alternative way to set the Toy Shop up while we’re waiting on it.
I also haven’t found a photographer yet, but I will keep asking.
The thing with the stowawayship was easily resolved, and I was able to put out the word about Hiro’s How to Rule Your World program.
The main thing I’m noticing is that each week’s Very Personal Ads stir up themes that end up getting worked on in one form or another over the course of the week.
And I’m always surprised to discover how closely my internal destuckification work parallels elements of these asks. It’s such a useful practice, even when (or maybe especially when) I learn that I didn’t want the thing I thought I did.
Also I love the constant reminders that the symbolic element of the ask is at least as powerful and important than the literal one. Bonk! There I go tripping over things again.
But no, the title is not one of those. That was intentional.
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.
Wishing love and good things for your Very Personal Ads! I’m so happy to have people doing this with me.