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 difference between grinding wheels and not grinding wheels.
Or: the difference between process and actual destuckifying.
When people set off on the trail of destuckification, it often happens that they hit the Grinding Your Wheels In The Mud phase.
What wheel-grinding looks and sounds like:
- Looping conversations in our head, where we repeatedly run through all the things they did or said, and the things we could or should have.
- Bringing this “he said, she said” cycle into other interactions and conversations and hashing it out even more.
- Perceiving other people’s experiences (or reactions to our experience) as shoes being thrown in our direction.
- Long, drawn-out assessments of the problem from different angles.
- Soap opera reporting (“and then he did X and she couldn’t believe that I didn’t”).
Of course, the wheel-grinding isn’t necessarily the problem in and of itself.
Wheel-grinding can be surprisingly useful, which is partially why we do it.
You can have a long wheel-grinding session with a friend, or bring your wheel-grinding to your coach or tell the whole saga to a hollowed out tree in the forest.
And you’ll feel better.
Because it’s a form of release. And because the brain loves a puzzle. So the whole time that we’re process-process-processing the hurt and the pain and the stuck, the brain is hard at work.
At some point, whether you’re talking to a therapist or a wall, some sort of insight will emerge. Some pattern will reveal itself. Something will become dislodged.
So it’s not that grinding our wheels in the mud is necessarily the wrong thing to do. It’s just that (as the therapist knows — probably the wall knows it too), it’s not destuckification.
What destuckification looks like.
It’s about conscious approach.
It’s about being inquisitive about the pain and what it needs, without living in the pain.
It’s about giving legitimacy for the hard without believing that the perception of the hard is necessarily the full story.
It’s about owning your crap. And separating out what’s yours from what’s theirs. Asking compassionate questions and setting clear boundaries.
It’s mindful, playful, curious, loving.
It involves taking active steps to change things and not just repeating the loop.
It’s the difference between being in the loop and being someone who recognizes that she’s in the loop and can say:
“Oh, look at that! Huh. I’m in the loop. Okay. I know this loop. And even though I don’t know how to get out of this loop, I do know that I’m allowed to be here.
“And I know that every time I draw attention to the fact that I’m in this and give myself permission to not like it, I’m getting more room. I’m separating from the experience of the loop and becoming someone who is interacting with a loop.”
What “taking active steps” means.
Well, it means try something. It means doing something with the stuck whenever we catch ourselves chanting the stuck stuck stuck stuck song.
For example. You can:
Give permission and legitimacy: reminding yourself that there is always a reason for feeling whatever you happen to be feeling. And without knowing that reason, it is okay for you to be where you are.
Be curious about whose pain this is. Who is talking? How old are you?
Ask: Is this from now? Is it possible that something about this situation is reminding me of a past situation and I’m going there instead of being here?
Separate: Even if the perceptions and sensations from now are reminding me of then, what are ten ways that now is not then? What are some of the skills and abilities I have at my disposal now that I didn’t know about then?
Build safe rooms for your sad scared selves and find out what the monsters have to say. Bring in a negotiator to talk to the part of you who is feeling anxious.
Assess: is this mine? Or is it possible that I’m picking up on other people’s stuff?
Go into detective mode: What are the patterns at play here? What aspects of these patterns can I map out? Where are the gaps where I can introduce new elements so that the pattern has no choice but to begin to rewrite itself?
Bring someone else to the front of the V. Do five minutes of Shiva Nata to get your neurons out of the habit of following their favorite pathways.
Turn your attention to helping other people feel safe, welcomed, supported, or whatever the experience is that you want to be having yourself.
Destuckifying means having options.
It’s a bigger toolbox.
It’s a more detailed map.
It’s knowing where the edges are.
And it’s practice.
Here’s how we practice.
By noticing when wheel-grindy stuff shows up.
Stepping back and assessing the situation.
And then doing something to shake up the pattern.
- A physical thing like changing how you’re sitting or easing into a yoga pose.
- An energy thing like synching your breathing to a slower, more intentional rhythm or using acupressure points to access a state of calm.
- An emotional thing like finding out what your walls think.
- A mental thing like mapping the patterns or changing the video game.
- An awareness thing like a meditation technique or prayer or observing your reactions.
It doesn’t really matter. It can be anything that appeals to you.
The point is that it’s something that takes us out of the struggle of the wheel-grinding and the mud, and into a conscious relationship. With the vehicle and the mud and ourselves and the path and all of it.
And comment zen for today.
We all have our stuff. We’re all working on our stuff. It’s an ongoing practice. We’re not in a rush.
We let people have their own experience, which means that we’re supportive and kind, and we don’t give advice (unless people specifically ask for it).
You’re more than welcome to share stuff you’re working on, things you’re thinking about related to destuckifying.
Love to all the commenter mice and the Beloved Lurkers and everyone who reads. Besos.
Adaptation and change.
So.
I was at the Playground yesterday — the center where I teach this stuff — doing what I often do:
Moving things around.
Figuratively too, but mostly literally.
Pushing one table this way. Moving another to the Galley (because the Playground is also a pirate ship, that’s how magical it is).
Putting the fairy door someplace unexpected and then hiding the “get the hell out of my bar!” troll in a pile of costumes.
I do this to create pleasure. But also to shake things up.
It’s fun when someone comes to a Rally (Rally!) or another event after they’ve already been to the Playground.
Everything is familiar, and at the same time it’s all delightfully different.
They run from room to room, exclaiming over the new: A hammock in the Refueling Station! New bulletin boards! A giant stuffed bunny named Shfanfanon!
It’s also kind of disorienting. Because different always trips us up.
Obviously, different-fun and different-exciting are way better than different-crappy. But it’s hard to encounter the New and Unknown without some leftover scary and loss.
Change is a given. And it’s often also incredibly uncomfortable.
There’s really only one thing more important than change
And that’s the ability to adapt to it. Adaptation! This is the heart of destuckification.
Flexibility. Compassionate detachment. Letting things be the way they are right now. Letting people be where they are, even when that’s incredibly frustrating.
The approach that is curious and playful, not prescriptive and not reactive.
Adaptation is also one of those examples of how destuckification is vital to business, marketing and biggification in all forms.
Because the best business skill there is (and a big chunk of my weird, magical accidental-savant powers), is this:
The ability to perceive that a situation has changed and to immediately say, “Oh, okay, things are different now. Got it! We’ll try moving this way then.”
And the piece about acknowledgment.
My dear friend Janet Bailey (you might know her from Mindful Time Management) says many wise things about change.
And one of them is about the power of acknowledging loss.
Even when a round of change is completely for the good, and you’re relieved to be in the new whatever-it-is, there’s nearly always an accompanying experience of loss.
The path not taken, the possibility not chosen, the you-who-could-have-been…or maybe it’s just about how it’s all new.
But there is loss. And part of being good at transitions and adaptation involves being able to make room for multiple emotions and experiences:
I am allowed to have mixed emotions. It’s okay if a part of me feels sad or confused.
Feeling conflicted doesn’t mean I don’t want this or that I don’t care.
Adaptation as intentional practice.
So obviously life is already full of enough tumultuous ridiculousness that it’s not like we have to deliberately arrange new things to trip on.
But sometimes I will still intentionally mix things up more than necessary, just to jumpstart that process of adapting.
Going into the third year of my Kitchen Table program, I actively looked for a combination (small and large) of things to change.
We started 2010 off focusing on communication and sovereignty, because the previous year had made it clear that this was exactly where the most work was needed.
This year we’re starting with adaptation, because that’s where the weak spot is.
Choosing change then becomes a practice, in order to better hone those skills of adaptation.
Just like in Shiva Nata, when we make the patterns more complicated before they become automatic. Or in yoga when we work with our strengths while simultaneously developing the parts that are not as strong yet.
We work on what we need to learn.
And while it’s a healthy practice, sometimes it sucks to be in it.
So we create safe rooms and we dance our patterns and we talk to our monsters.
We give legitimacy to the part of us who doesn’t want anything to change and the part who wishes everything would change faster already.
And then we move some more things around.
Very Personal Ads #78: I take it back!
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.
Whee!
The very first VPAs of 2011.
They’re all new and sparkly.
Thing 1: a speedy solution to a tech disaster.
Here’s what I want:
The short version of the current situation:
We allotted three weeks for getting the new site ready for the 2011 Kitchen Table. Because this is the third year and we know that these things invariably end up being more complicated than is possible to imagine.
Every upgrade broke something new, which had to be re-upgraded or re-re-installed or re-un-upgraded seventeen hundred times. And just when I was completely exasperated because we were back at square one?
Square one broke.
I want an easy, simple solution. And I need it to happen as quickly as possible. Also gwishing for patience. Both for me. And for everyone who is waiting for the new year of Kitchen Table fun to start.
Ways this could work:
Oh how I wish I knew.
My commitment.
To breathe. To hope. To wish. To stay receptive to the possibility that — despite the massive cock-up this has been so far — things could still smooth themselves out quickly and easily.
May it happen in good timing.
Thing 2: a wall calendar for 2011!
Here’s what I want:
Normally our kitchen at Hoppy House gets its calendar of the year sort of by accident.
Once we were sent one from some organization whose cause we support. Once some friend of a relative of the gentleman made one. I’m not even sure where last year’s came from but it was lovely.
I have been waiting for this year’s wall calendar to just show up, but here we are and it hasn’t happened.
Ways this could work:
Maybe you have an extra one and you’d like to send it to me!
I could borrow the one from the Playground?
Maybe on my Wednesday prowls I could come across the right one. But really I’d so much rather just have one show up the way it normally does.
My commitment.
To pretend that I don’t know what day it is until my calendar shows up.
To play. Play!
Thing 3: closure
Here’s what I want:
Because of the unscheduled tech nightmare soap opera saga that has been this past week, all sorts of other projects are in a state of almost-done.
This week I’d like movement with these. Ease-filled finishings and elegant solutions and simple endings.
Ways this could work:
I can keep tuning into Congruence and other themes I’m working with.
And I can dance on it shivanautically, so the brain-scramble effect will send me in the right direction.
And I can make the commitment here and see what happens.
My commitment.
To love these projects.
To wish them good things.
To go one step at a time. And to stop when it is time to stop.
Thing 4: plum duff!
Here’s what I want:
I was going to write a post about this tiny, secret sale sail special thing that I’m calling Plum Duff days.
But then I didn’t, and it ends tomorrow. So maybe I can just seed this somewhere small. Or find some other way of showing it that it is loved in my heart.
Ways this could work:
I can tell you guys! Even without the Post of Explanations.
And I can tell the Frolicsome Bar (otherwise known as FB).
Or I can also just write it a love letter and tell my dear Plum Duff page that it will get another chance some other time. Because special occasions happen. Rarely, but they happen.
My commitment.
To spend time with the silly, fun, shiny things that I create.
To give you the link. Plum duff!
To sing songs of the sea.
Progress report on past Very Personal Ads.
Just to update you on what’s happened since last time.
The main thing I wanted was a real weekend. Hahahahaha.
My big success there was taking Sunday afternoon off to sit in a cafe and write, which was absolutely delightful. This weekend was taken up with Kitchen-Table-related chaos again. I will try for a window of nothing this afternoon.
This is clearly a much bigger ask than I’d realized, and so I’ll start breaking it down into its elements to see what can be learned.
Then I wanted words for my genius idea. Sort of happened and sort of didn’t. Closer.
We were able to announce one of the three things we were hoping to announce, but I’m actually kind of glad that we slowed down the brunching.
And hilariously, I was worried about a smooth transition going into Dry Dock.
That turned out to be an outrageous success. We had a tiny, sweet, temporary site and tons of activity there. It was beautiful. The part I didn’t ask about was the transition back from Dry Dock, which is what is falling apart right now. Very amusing, literal mice.
What I’m taking from looking back on this past week is the skill I am (slowly) building: ADAPTATION. It’s kind of a pain right now, but this is the growth period. And honestly? It feels like the Next Step in something important so I’m kind of glad it’s here.
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! So glad for everyone doing this with me.
Friday Chicken #126: because one scarlet bat isn’t enough
Because it’s Friday AGAIN. And because traditions are important. In which I cover the good stuff and the hard stuff in my week, trying for the non-preachy, non-annoying side of self-reflection.
And you get to join in if you feel like it.
I love how the last day of the year turned out to be Friday, so we could send it off with a Chicken.
The last Chicken of 2010! Confetti! And a beer.
Maybe next year Friday will stop sneaking up on me like this. Who knows. It could happen.
The hard stuff
I worked my ass off this week.
Between the new Kitchen Table website changes and the temporary site that we’re using in dry dock, and brunching what felt like seventeen million new things…
The new Year of Biggification (like Biggification 2010, only even more great). And Crossing the Line, a new course that I’m way too excited about.
And something called Plum Duff days. And the Secret Lab for Shivanauts.
You would not believe how much effort went into all of this. By the time we got to the last Drunk Pirate Council, I was really done. Weekend, please.
And then Workless Wednesday was a farce .
It rained all day so our outdoor plans became indoor plans.
Then the cafe we went to was crazy loud. And they forgot our order twice. It was just a crankypants sort of day.
Then we took Casey‘s cat to the vet, which was cool because we got to see Casey and we love Casey, but less so because we were taking a cat to the vet. And then another cafe, which was also crappy.
I call do-overs!
Missing Hiro.
Usually Hiro and I talk… oh, I don’t know, practically every day?
This week we were both outrageously busy and it didn’t happen.
I miss my sister!
A big mess at the Playground.
Cleaning it up felt really good.
But seeing how my office there is still not a welcoming space. And how I have really neglected it.
Very sad.
The internet. Oh, it is boring this time of year.
Blah resolutions blah everyone talking about resolutions blah.
Not yours. I’m sure yours are awesome. The other ones.
No new fun things on the hulu. And of course the twitter bar is lame because people are either away or being preachy about what resolutions we should all be resolving.
I had to go to a real place just to hang out with people. Imagine that. 🙂
Okay, enough. On to the good.
The good stuff
Stickers!
I have stickers and I’m not afraid to use them.
Though I am slightly afraid to admit how covered everything is in stickers.
STICKERS!
Kitchen Table dry dock: totally working.
We’re in crazed transition mode with the Kitchen Table as we head into year three. And yes, that’s blowing my mind.
The site is being upgraded and rebuilt. We deleted…wait for it… 7,527 forum threads.
Seven thousand, five hundred and twenty seven. And some of those threads have fifty posts or more.
My people: nothing if not prolific.
Astonishing, I know.
So this new state of deletion should make things slightly less overwhelming for the new people coming in.
And I had been a bit worried that our temporary Dry Dock mode site wouldn’t feel like home. But we are drinking cider in mugs, huddling around in blankets and posting fifty or so things there a day while we wait for the main site to come back for the new year.
Hot bath and slippers and warm bed.
So nice. So nice.
Old Turkish lady postcard from my favorite uncle.
He is the best.
Crossing the Line.
That’s our newest program — the page is here — and it’s fabulous and filling up.
So looking forward that I can’t stand it! AAAAAAAAAAAAH EXCITED!
I took time off.
And even had a proper weekend on Sunday with some actual real-live weekending.
Lots of sitting in cafes and writing letters to myself. And going for walks.
It was good. I saw a movie! And ate a tiny pizza! Ha. I do know how.
Quiche.
The gentleman has decided to put his heavenly pie-crust-baking genius to good use, since I don’t eat pie.
And he is knocking out these terrific quiches. Leeks and chard and all things good.
Guess who was here?
I got to see Pace and Kyeli (of milk song fame, among other wonderful things) again last Friday when they were in town.
Selma and I gave them a Grand Tour of the Playground, and we all went out for lunch with Danielle.
It was absolutely lovely. What a treat.
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?
The Scarlet Bat Bat Bat
They have style like you would not believe. Even though of course 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.
Oh, and of course! Happy New Year! May it be glorrrrrrious. And may there be toast.
Selma and I wish you an ease-filled transitioning to 2011. It’ll be good. I can tell.
New Year’s: The Great 2010 Chicken
So normally the Chicken happens every Friday when I write about the hard stuff and the good stuff from my week. And occasionally on Thursday..
We also have a yearly chicken tradition, that started with the big crazy Chicken for 2008 and continued with the Great Chicken of 2009.
We review the hard and the good: what was challenging and what was fabulous. Because a little symbolic closure never hurts.
Chickening the year a day early? Oyvavoy.
This year the 31st of December falls on a Friday, of all things.
But after a long and completely absurd internal debate and much Talmudic-style parsing, it became clear that even though the Yearly Chicken should probably trump the Friday Chicken, NOTHING TRUMPS THE FRIDAY CHICKEN. Tradition!
So here we are. Doing the Great 2010 Chicken one day early. I like to think of it as preparing.
The hard stuff
May.
Well, really April and May. There was just this really stressful period for a couple months there when we were waiting to close on a space for the Playground, and worrying about Hoppy House, and then waiting for a really important piece of news. Gaaaaaaah.
It just seemed like everything was up in the air. And the waiting. Agony!
If the hard of life is graduate school, as we decided it was yesterday, this was an advanced seminar on the topic of faith, trust and hanging in there.
Sick.
Getting absolutely wiped out in Asheville — while teaching — and then the recovery taking way too long.
And other forms of recovery.
So we got rid of the disastrous bookkeeper from 2009, but whole chunks of this year were spent sorting out that mess.
So much residual crap from old decisions were still mucking things up. And then my own frustration with that was its own form of fuzzy monster.
Very hard.
Trust.
We discovered that we had someone on the ship who wasn’t trustworthy.
But we didn’t have a back-up plan or a replacement or a plan.
The First Mate and I were not in agreement about the best way to handle it. I’m pretty sure that his way (don’t do anything until we have someone who can cover all the bases in case anything goes wrong) was the best way.
But it was very uncomfortable for me.
The elaborate and much bemoaned passing of Mack the Wife.
Mack the Wife is my laptop. Last name: Book-Air.
Now Mack the ex-wife.
Her unfortunate demise complicated matters hugely for me in a number of different ways.
A harsh and unexpected personal attack.
From someone I really care about.
A new roof is expensive and a pain in the ass.
And noisy.
It also took longer than it should have, and if only I’d just planned vacation for that week because it was very unsettling, and the whole thing was kind of a nightmare.
People will be in their stuff, no matter how many ways you give them to get out of it.
I don’t really have anything more to say about that.
Conclusion-jumping: apparently now an olympic sport.
This seemed to be the game of choice for a lot of people in my life this year.
And I have no patience for it. Frustrating, painful and really unnecessary.
Doubt.
And reassessment. The various identity crises that go along with that. Because change is hard.
And the good stuff
The main bit of good is that the hard was less hard than last year.
So much less hard. I hadn’t realized that until just now, and am starting to feel extremely hopeful.
Getting the Playground!
We got the space! It is amazing!
It is huge and beyootiful. Very magical things happen there.
And there are zombie apocalypse juice glasses. And pretzels! And a hammock!
I am in awe of the Playground and everything that happens there.
Also, having a space to teach saves us so much time, money and administrative hassle. It’s kind of outrageous that I never thought of this before.
Rallies!
I wrote this post and it was an idea and a seed.
But little did I know that the thing that emerged — the Rally (Rally!) — would change everything.
I am massively in love with rallying and with everything that happens on Rally.
Pirate queen holidays.
One of my primary business and personal gwishes this year was to not go on Emergency Vacation. And, in fact, to avoid it like the plague.
Scheduling in regular holidays and excursions really helped with that.
Especially the extra week of writing time in Taos.
Speaking of which, Workless Wednesday!
Even though it took most of the year for the tradition to stick…
And even though I still only manage a half day…
This is progress. This is good. I love Wednesday.
Drunk Pirate Council.
Where all the decisions get made.
The moment we decided to stop having “weekly meetings”, everything got better.
Long live the monster coloring book.
This may be my absolute favorite of all the things I have created this year. Or at all.
Madly in love with the monster coloring book.
Sponsoring Roller Derby.
Even though my beloved Guns N Rollers had a rough year.
Supporting them is awesome. And it’s the shivanautical thing to do.
Plus brain training on skates!
Not having arm pain.
And not having to use Stu to write the blog.
The absence of pain is a beautiful thing.
Retreat! Run away!
The Week of Destuckification in Monterey and the Week of Biggification in Asheville were so much fun.
I want my whole life to be like that. Smart people, enthusiastically working on their stuff. With hilarity and laughter and play.
And old Turkish lady yoga. It was so incredible.
So many wonderful things, really.
Living in Hoppy House. And eating Hoppy House sourdough and drinking Hoppy House beer.
Good neighbors. Dear friends. Bright, capable, creative students and clients. The incredible people at the second year of the Kitchen Table.
Okay, 2010. I think we’re done here.
Just like last year: the best part is still this blog and all of you.
The commenter mice and the Beloved Lurkers. Having a community of caring, loving, curious people. It is a very sweet thing.
And if you wish to play in the comments, hooray! You can chicken your year or make up words or drink celebratory things from tiny little goblets. Whatever you like. It’s our party.
Wishing you support, strength, grace, comfort, inspiration, sovereignty, and safety. May 2011 be full of beautiful possibility. Love, love, love and more love.
— Havi Brooks & Selma the Duck