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 unhostile takeover.
Ahhhhhhhhhhhh. Ahahahahahahahahaha.
Yes. Like that.
Ahhhhhhhhhhhh. Ahahahahahahahahaha.
That was the sound my body made last week when we gave in to its firm suggestion that we sleep in until whenever. Until nine! Craziness!
It loved that we acknowledged how very, very right it had been about how much better we would feel.
It said, See? See?!
But it didn’t do a little dance, even though it looked like it wanted to.
An unexpected realization.
We — that is, the collective — were surprised. We hadn’t realized what an incredibly special occasion it was for the body to really be listened to.
We’d basically thought we were listening. All the time.
You know, being a yoga teacher. Running what we think of as a yoga-based business.
The body is such a major player in everything we do around here and how we do it.
It seemed obvious that the body always gets heard. A given. The body always gets a vote. Always.
The coup. It was a quiet one.
The body said, very seriously, “Not a vote. Not a vote.”
The room became very still. We were paying attention.
The body said, “Not a vote anymore. It wasn’t a vote. Executive decision. I made an executive decision. Thank you for trusting me enough to let this happen.”
Executive? Decision?
We weren’t used to thinking about things this way.
We tried to remember other times the body had made an ‘executive decision’.
Not a reactive one, like quitting sugar nearly eleven years ago. But a calm, assured, measured, this is how things need to work around here decision.
I want the job.
“What are you saying?”, we asked the body.
The body cleared its throat. Our throat. The body leaned into a wall for support.
The body said, “I want the job. And don’t pretend you don’t know.”
We looked at each other. We thought we didn’t know, but we did know.
Pirate Queen me spoke first. “Well. This is certainly unexpected, but I kind of like it! Who’s up for an experiment in radical trust?”
Cautious me said, “Wait, are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
Gleeful me: “This is BRILLIANT. Let the body be the Chief Executive Officer. Ohmygod. Genius.”
Business savant me: “Ha! Interesting. Show me some numbers. Let’s say it’s possible that this isn’t a terrible idea — I want to know why this is supposed to work.”
The body shows us a series of memory slides.
How permanent email sabbatical saved us from hating the business.
How tramping and walking make us more efficient.
How old Turkish lady yoga keeps us calm and focused, and Shiva Nata delivers epiphanies and mad pattern recognition, so that we constantly seem to be smarter than other people.
Writer me says, “I like it. Just promise me there will be time for writing.”
The Worry Council: “Wait! We want the scientists to be involved! There has to be a way to measure results so we can stop this madness if it becomes necessary!”
The body didn’t seem phased by any of this. It had a proposal. But it wasn’t a proposal. Executive decision.
The body’s nonproposal:
“Here’s what need to happen.
You give me a year to run things my way. We have daily chickening, so that I get to give you information and make recommendations. We have weekly council where we talk about what’s working and what isn’t.
A six month performance revue (not a review!) with dancing and frivolity.
And you trust me to know what I’m doing.
I can totally change our world and the business and take this ship to amazing places, if we all work together and you trust my instincts.
My methods are unconventional. You may worry at first about the amount of napping and the expense of the facials.
But we will turn this ship in a new direction, and the most magical, spectacular things will happen. Are you with me?”
Magic markers for everyone!
Everyone applauded. There was some general grumble-thrum that sounded like, “Yeah! Yeah! But we want to see some charts! But yeah!”
We got out the magic markers and started charting:
- What questions we need to ask the body each day.
- Possible checks and balances.
- What would help us trust the body’s messages more.
- Activities (breathing, yoga, assorted wackiness) to connect to the body in such a way that we’re tapping into deep knowing and not surface knowing.
All this to make sure we won’t be regularly intercepting messages of the I just want to eat nachos and cry all day variety
Or if we do get that message, we’ll know that this is the temporary but necessary course that must be taken for the next thing to happen.
And now there’s a committee too! But not really a committee.
It’s not so much a committee as — tee hee! — an executive decision-making body.
Yes, a body. That includes my body. My body thinks this is hilarious.
Anyway, this committee consists of… my body, of course. And Slightly Future Me and Pirate Queen Me.
My body still makes all the executive decisions, and the other two back her up.
There’s other stuff going on too, and I’d love to tell you more about it, but the body just told us to get off the computer and go for a walk.
So assume that normal comment zen applies (we own our stuff, we let other people have their stuff and we don’t give unsolicited advice). And you are welcome to play with me on any of this.
By executive decision, radical trust and the power vested in me by the collective, signing off for now. 🙂
Gwishes.
I am not very good at goals.
Mostly because I do not like them.
Navigating and mapping and adventuring are more my style, not surprisingly, because those are things that pirates like.
And I’m mostly okay with wishes as long as I pretend that they’re Very Personal Ads.
Anyway, I needed a word.
For the thing that is not a goal and not a wish.
And not a dream and not a mission. And not a project.
It’s a gwish.
Because it’s fun to say. Gwish gwish gwish gwish.
And because it isn’t as scary to talk about a gwish as it is to share a tiny, sweet thing that is vulnerable and in need of protection.
Gwishes make it through the cracks.
When you tell someone your goal, they might come up with all the reasons it could be a disastrous disaster to end all disasters.
Because they worry about you, just like your fuzzball monsters.
But they don’t worry about your gwishes because no one worries about gwishes.
Gwishes are buoyant and sparkly. They sneak past fear because fear forgets to take them too seriously.
It feels good to have a gwish.
It feels even better to get excited about someone else’s gwish.
At our day of pattern-mapping and destuckifying in Sacramento, we shared all kinds of gwishes.
But we made them up. Silly, beautiful, unlikely, made-up gwishes.
We experienced what it feels like to share a gwish and have that gwish be met with unconditional love and acceptance.
We practiced radiating joy for other people’s gwishes, and saying whee! and right on!
We created a tiny, awesome culture of welcoming and belonging for the gwishes to hang out in.
Some of the gwishes we admired:
- To hear the trees and know what they want.
-
To build a giant tree fort where you can sing songs — with a bathroom in the tree!
- To create a cat circus.
- To find a home for all who need one.
- To be a ballerina.
- To cure epidemics of belly button lint.
- To be a fairy in a red crystal ball.
- To live in a haunted house at Disneyland (with a singing graveyard, of course).
Some noticings about giving people room to have their geishas.*
* Edit! That was supposed to be “gwishes”, not geishas. But a typo that fabulous must stay.
It changes the room. The quality of the air is different. More spaciousness.
It’s easy to get excited about someone else’s gwish, even when it’s something ridiculous or impossible. That kind of creative, expansive joy is contagious.
Listening to someone talk about their gwish… my whole body is engaged. I am animated. I want to celebrate it and be a part of it and make it happen.
It is so much easier to be filled with loving-kindness over someone else’s gwish.
I can’t always do that with my own.
With someone else’s gwish, that hesitance and reticence is gone.
I see all the reasons for yes. Why it could work instead of why it couldn’t.
As if all your spine fluid essence was pure creativity. The life force as undiluted creative play. Yes.
It’s good for you.
Not just cultivating gwishes of your own, but actively letting other people have theirs.
Without trying to change the gwishes. Not needing to fix them or do anything with them.
Just giving them legitimacy. Room to exist.
What do my gwishes need to feel safe and supported?
Play and playfulness!
Time and space to emerge in whatever form they want.
Friends (like Hiro and Cairene and Michelle) to clap delightedly with me.
They want to be welcomed and rejoiced over.
They want their birth to be the most happy thing that ever was.
They want flowers and flowers and flowers, and a secret garden just for them.
They want more room than it seems like they’re going to need. And to know that they are loved.
What can I do to help my gwishes feel welcome?
I can listen to them.
And ask them what they want.
I can make destinations and landing spots. I can write signs and give them names.
And safe rooms! Places to live so that even when I’m not with them or giving them attention, they feel comfortable and at home.
Dance. Movement. Trust. Walk the patterns. Map the patterns. Interact with the patterns. Untangle the patterns.
But mainly to say it:
YOU ARE WELCOME. YOU ARE ALLOWED TO BE HERE.
Play with me! It is fun to make gwishes and to have them.
If you would like to play, you are welcome to.
- To invent silly gwishes and get to know what it’s like to have them be welcomed and respected.
- To share a real gwish, if you like and if it feels safe.
- To ask any of the questions that I did, and see what comes up.
- To welcome other people’s gwishes.
As always, we all have our stuff, and we’re all working on our stuff. We let other people have their stuff and their experience, because that’s part of this too.
Very Personal Ads #75: slumber being the operative word here
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: Oh, to stop feeling like crap. That would be good.
Here’s what I want:
The last teaching trip combined with visit to un-laws really knocked me out.
I am ready to get out of what feels like a permanent state of fog-head and get back to myself.
Ways this could work:
Committing way more … aggressively? intentionally?… to taking care of myself.
Not doing things that are not directly connected to helping me get better.
Seclusion.
Yoga. Slow, inquisitive old Turkish lady yoga.
Doing the Shiva Nata patterns in my head, since my body can’t do them right now. Just being in the bath of patterns.
Also in the real bath.
My commitment.
Taking notes.
Remembering how much this sucks so I can not get myself into this situation next time.
To go to where the water is.
Thing 2: To work on the Book of Me at a slumber party or some other unlikely gathering.
Here’s what I want:
The truth is, the feeling-like-crap was predictable. I did things that went against every single piece of smart advice that belongs in the Book of Me.
I went and broke all the absolutely absolutelies.
I knew what was needed but I either forgot or didn’t take it seriously enough.
So it’s time to revisit the Book of Me. And the dammit list.
And I want to do that in a more formal way. Because if it was easily accessible (like my fabulous Pirate Queen Anthology), I could have consulted it.
Ways this could work:
A Rally! I can throw a special Rally that’s just for working on and assembling the Book of You.
Or fit a Book of You unit into the Week of Destuckification program.
Or a slumber party at the Playground.*
* Not really a slumber party, of course, because my personal Book of Me has way too much accumulated evidence to show that staying up late is a disaster in the making. But a gathering of fun.
My commitment.
To get silly and creative with this.
To use magic markers.
And I can try out Maryann’s Secret Playdate (on Toozday) as the place to start.
Thing 3: Back into my routines.
Here’s what I want:
Now that I’m not traveling, I want back in!
My morning walks and tramping and the various rituals and everything else that falls under the category of here’s-how-we-do-things.
Everything that supports me.
I have missed it so much.
Ways this could work:
Slowly.
Piece by piece.
With love and sweetness, not with guilt or impatience. With creativity and curiosity.
I can remember why each routine became a routine to begin with. I can invent new ones. I can be open to being surprised.
My commitment.
To stay connected to the qualities that these routines and rituals give me:
Support, comfort, trust, reassurance, stability, play.
And to figure out what else I need.
To go at my own pace and see what happens.
Thing 4: Congruence.
Here’s what I want:
This is a Hiro-word.
I’m not sure how to talk about this yet, but I’m in the process of observing my life and my space, and moving out all the things that don’t match. Everything that doesn’t fit.
Ways this could work:
With the magic wand, of course.
I’ll see what it wants to point to.
Or with writing, my usual way. That works too.
My commitment.
To remember that it’s a process. To remember that everything moves. To notice the points where I want things not to move.
And… some tiny VPAs for today!
Here’s what I want today:
A long walk.
Two hours of writing/decorating/attention for the Cultural Tour Guide.
Ways this could work:
I’m committing to it right now, and waiting to see what comes from that.
My commitment.
Experimentation. Observation. Receptivity. Love.
Progress report on past Very Personal Ads.
Just to update you on what’s happened since last time.
Let’s see. I wanted a completely ridiculous coatrack or hatstand for the Playground. And we got tons of suggestions from the commenter mice and at the Twitter bar.
So thank you.
There were things that needed brunching (announcing), and I got sick and that didn’t happen. But I have been doing a lot of thinking about how and what and when. Useful.
I wanted to be able to write a thing that I couldn’t write, and big progress has been made on that. Still upset, but I’m writing.
And we had an administrative nightmare that was very nightmarish, but it’s slowly getting sorted, and people have been very patient and understanding about it, so yay.
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 #123: it’s actually Thursday but someone had to stop this week before it went too far and that someone is going to be me.
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.
So yes, it’s not exactly Friday yet. But I’m so damn glad this week is over that we’re officially ending it early.
You heard me, week. We are through.
Yes.
The hard stuff
Exhausted and miserable.
Too much traveling. Too much working.
And now I’ve had four days of foggy-head where my brain doesn’t function.
Body is protesting.
And very loudly at that.
It is not fun.
Piles and piles of things wanting me to make decisions on them but my fog-head can’t make decisions right now.
Knowing that people are waiting on these decisions and wanting to give them… so hard.
And the longer I wait, the more things need deciding.
It’s getting to be kind of ridiculous.
Upset with myself for not taking care of myself.
And then paying the price.
Tried to fit too much in. Too much traveling, teaching and visiting of people.
Overdid it. Did not respect the bedtime.
And now everything hurts.
Unhappy about something.
But not able to talk about it yet.
And yes, pulled over in the airport line again.
Though not personally searched, gott sei dank.
But still. Every damn time. I can’t go through without them taking my bags apart.
And then they had to think out loud about the channukiah:
“Well, a menorah IS a religious object, so that should be okay, I guess. We just have to check that you can’t hurt anyone…with this gigantic hunk of metal…”
Nice.
The good stuff
Everyone loves the sovereignty boots.
Including, as always, the TSA. This always makes me laugh. And it makes the hassle of having my bags searched yet again somewhat less irritating.
It’s usually the TSA ladies who drool over them but this time it was the boys.
TSA guy: “Wow, those were some boots you just took off.”
Me: “Yup!”
TSA guy: “Nice! Those heels are awesome. Are they comfortable?”
Me: “Very!”
Other TSA guy: “Well, they look great.”
Me: “I hear that every time I fly…”
First TSA guy: “I’m not surprised. They’re so pretty!”
It’s not always easy being a pirate queen, but the boots totally help.
Body protest turned out to be a good thing.
In a bold and daring coup, my body decided that it should get to be the CEO of my business for 2011.
And, weirdly, everyone was on board with that, so yay.
And even though the mandatory three days in bed was extremely frustrating, it turns out that having my body making all the executive decisions is kind of fantastic.
More about how that all came about next week.
Teaching in Sacramento was great fun.
Selma and I got to spend a brilliant day with three amazing women, working on their businesses in silly, unlikely, screwball ninja-fied ways.
And to teach Shiva Nata with a lovely group of people from all over California.
And a very fun afternoon with Michelle’s teacher-trainees at It’s All Yoga, teaching mindful biggification, destuckification and other good things.
They were also completely unfazed by the fact that I spent four hours pretending we were actually at a hamster tightrope-walking teacher training.
Which means Michelle must have warned them about me. Ahahahahahaha.
Love it.
Food!
Traveling kind of sucks because no matter how good the food is, it’s no match for the stuff my gentleman friend cooks.
But I still got to eat all sorts of delicious things and it was fun.
And then when I finally made it home, it just got better.
Being home.
My bed! My glorrrrrrrrrrrrious bed! My kingdom for my bed.
With flannel sheets and giant comforters.
Oh, there is nothing like bed.
And then to be back in Hoppy House, knowing that I don’t have to go anywhere for ages. Joy.
The new Timbers kit.
Because the only time you’ll hear me talk about fashion (my hot hot sovereignty boots aside) is when it’s football jerseys or roller derby drag.
Love the new jerseys. Love. And that’s not something you get to say a lot in Major League Soccer. Can’t wait for the season to start!
Hannukah.
Lights and pretty.
It’s a good holiday. Just in time.
There are a bunch of things I’m supposed to announce but I can’t remember what they are.
But I do know one of them.
This Toozday I’ll be doing a teleclass on how I process the process — that is to say, how I work on my stuff while trying to get stuff done.
It’s for people who have bought the processing the process ebook (this is a page I have never linked to before), and anyone who gets it by the end of the weekend will be invited to the call. So if you don’t have it, now is the time.
When my head clears I’ll try to remember what else is going on.
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.”
I’m not sure what they sound like but I’m sure it’s rocking.
The Badass Bagel Brigade.
Best. Band. Ever. Except of course that it’s really just one guy.
And some of the lovely presents that arrived this week.
I haven’t been to the post office yet, so I have no idea what all is there.
But we have candles and sage and duck soap (from Michelle), and fabulous hats.
I will take them to the Playground tomorrow and there will be much rejoicing.
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.
Ten things gone.
While I was teaching in Sacramento last week, I got to do lots of fun Sacramento things.
Like breakfast at Magpie with my Michelle. And Selma. And giant, happy sandwiches. Happy! Sandwiches!
And I dragged some of my clients to the awesome park where there’s an alien spaceship. On a giant pole!
Happy hour.
But the best, as always, was going to Beer’s.
It’s a bookstore. Called Beer’s. They do happy hour, when books are cheaper.
Once a month it’s happy hour all day.
And they have a cat named Raffles who basically owns the place.
If it weren’t for the fact that I live in Portland, home to the unbelievable place that is Powell’s (heaven!), I’d probably never leave.
Anyway.
I bought a Barbara book (that’s Barbara Freaking Sher), because while Barbara is a wise, hilarious lady who is madly adored by me, I haven’t actually read her stuff, outside of the wishcrafting.
She had this brilliant bit about how we put all this pressure on ourselves to declutter.
But it’s all pressure and nothing else, because then we wait for that perfect expanse of unscheduled weekend to make it happen.
Her solution is:
Get rid of ten things. Whenever you happen to remember.
Of course it is.
I love this because it’s so Barbara. She goes right to the practical and the deguiltifying.
And because it’s like what I already do — just one thing.
Except, you know, ten.
Here are my ten.
- The red rainboots that don’t fit and have a hole. Goodbye, rain boots!
- Disgusting fish oil capsules from my acupuncturist that I am never, ever going to take. Goodbye!
- Oh, so many past-expiration-date vitamins.
- Cushions that do not really belong in Hoppy House. They’ll go to the Playground. Bye, cushions! See you soon!
- A gift I didn’t need: to someone else.
- Old, falling-apart slippers from when I still lived in Germany. That is a long time ago.
- Keeping half a box of matzah for sentimental value does not really make sense. Ooh, pasta consolidation too!
- Tea supplies we don’t use: to the Playground where the Rallygators will enjoy them!
- The first ridiculous bottle opener (bless the Tiki Plumber) must stay. We need him. Not so much for bottles as for sheer fabulousness. But the second one? Angry shark can go to the Playground too.
- Yoga mat ties: to a friend.
Noticings!
So much more challenging than I expected.
But also more fun than expected.
The giant permission slip of “just ten for now, not the whole damn house” made it into more of a game.
I can easily see how this could become the best habit ever.
Most surprising to me was how hard it was for me to figure out what things, even though I only needed to find ten of them.
This was both terrifying and tremendously reassuring.
Terrifying.
Mostly because it made something clear:
The narrative in my head about how the house is a disaster and when are you going to take the time to take care of things is obviously and demonstrably false. False and ridiculous.
I have a pile or two that need de-piling, and that’s pretty much it. What?!?!
What a crazy thing to realize. This thing I think to myself at least once a day is not accurate, useful, helpful or relevant to real life.
And reassuring.
Because catching unexamined assumptions and proving them wrong is delightful.
Plus, now if that mythical, magical, empty weekend ever shows up, I can use it for cat-napping.
Play with me?
Ten things or three things or one thing. Or no things. It’s all fine by me.
Thinking about any of this counts.
As always:
We all have our stuff. We’re working on our stuff. We let everyone else have their stuff.
As Paul says, people vary. The only constant is that we’re committed to nonviolent change. And that trumps everything, including the “people-vary” rule.
In other words: whatever works for you is cool, up to the point that it doesn’t involve self-abuse. If we try to change our patterns through hurting ourselves, that is the pattern that needs loving attention.
More on that some other time.
In the meantime, play with me! If you like! What are we keeping, recycling, giving away, saying goodbye to? Noticings welcome.