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.
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.
Jungle gyms everywhere.
We did a thing at the Week of Biggification in North Carolina that was pretty great.
In addition to optional afternoon old Turkish lady yoga, we had optional morning classes that were … oh, unconventional is as good a word as any.
And on this particular day we played let’s turn the room into a jungle gym!
Because it’s there.
The idea was this:
Go somewhere in the room.
Use that spot as the setting for interacting with (some part of) your body.
Interacting could mean: stretching it, strengthening it, moving it, being in stillness with it, listening to it, touching it.
Then go somewhere else in the room and play with that part of the room.
It was awesome.
We turned the room into a jungle gym!
Which was a pretty unlikely thing.
I mean, fancy hotel conference room. There wasn’t all that much to play with.
Not like the Playground, which is full of blocks and toys and hiding places. A conference room.
But we used the walls. The stage. We flipped chairs upside down and rocked on them.
We leaned up against tables.
And pressed into walls and wriggled into corners.
Sometimes you would hear giggling as someone discovered the perfect way to play with something that seemed unplay-with-able.
Our breathing became deep and slow.
Each movement was intentional and playful at the same time. We were channeling that deeply creative, passionately intent silliness that is experimentation. Play through curiosity.
We were like kids and dogs. We were free.
Jungle gyms everywhere.
Right now I’m at another hotel, but in California.
The bathroom has a window seat and a spectacular view.
This morning I turned the bathroom into a jungle gym.
Sink and bathtub and closet. Walls and doors. Arrangements of towels.
I stood here and there. I went under and over.
But mainly I pressed and twisted and leaned and reached and bent and peeked.
But really, everywhere. To some extent.
Even on the plane, there are ways to be in jungle gym mode.
It’s hard. You have to be like a monk in a cell. Movement is limited. But how I get to interact with space is less limited than I think.
The play becomes more concentrated. How to move in small ways that are unobtrusive.
My focus draws inward: more about internal space. Breath. Vertebrae. Length. Roominess. Spine. Heart.
Many variations on wiggling of toes.
That’s probably my least favorite jungle gym.
But looking for unlikely options to interact with my body and the experience of being there is how I get through it.
Today I’m going somewhere that will be challenging for me.
Of course, I won’t be able to really play, because it’s not the kind of place that approves of that.
But I can sort of turn it into a jungle gym anyway.
By sneaking stretches in unlikely ways and unlikely places.
And I can turn it into a mental jungle gym by being curious and inquisitive. By experimenting with how I react to the video game.
By doing things that I wouldn’t normally do, to see what happens.
It gets easier I can remember that playgrounds are everywhere and playtime is there for me whenever I want it.
And if it sucks, I get naptime when I’m done.
Play!
More jungle-gym-ing! More ways to turn things into playgrounds! Yes?
And, as always, we let everyone have their own experience and we don’t tell anyone what to do, because that’s how we play here.
Very Personal Ads #74: If Dr. Seuss wore a hat, he would hang it 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.
Also, is it really Sunday?
Somehow that seems completely preposterous. I protest!
Thing 1: a completely ridiculous coat rack or hat stand or something.
Here’s what I want:
Now that it is winter in Portland, we need a place at the Playground to hang rain coats.
And possibly to stick umbrellas. People who live here do not own umbrellas, but we will have visitors and they will most certainly want umbrellas.
I am picturing a delightfully kooky stand that is somewhat … odd looking. Now we need to find it!
Ways this could work:
Selma and I can prowl the consignment shops when we get back from teaching in Sacramento.
You guys might have ideas or suggestions, or maybe one of my readers knows the coat rack in question and can introduce us.
My commitment.
To stand for hats! Because I do.
Thing 2: brunching!
Here’s what I want:
I have several upcoming things that I need to announce to the Havi’s Doing A Thing list and the Frolicsome Bar and to the blog in general.
Of course we are totally way behind schedule. Which is actually fine.
But at some point in this coming week, the pieces need to fall into place.
Ways this could work:
I’ll get help from Hiro, my sister-in-silliness.
And do some processing the process. We’ll need to have at least two Drunk Pirate Councils, of course.
And it could just work. Whatever needs to come together could show up.
Or I could have a shivanautical epiphany that would help with the remaining steps. That would be good too.
My commitment.
To pay attention to what is working.
To ask what I need.
To do way more stone skipping than I think is required.
Thing 3: there is a thing I really want to write.
Here’s what I want:
Oh, this thing I want to write!
But right now I am far too upset about the topic to sit down and write it.
So either I need to figure out a way to get some emotional distance. Or be okay with not writing it for a while.
Or just write it while I’m mad, and then edit out the mean.
Ways this could work:
I’m thinking this will need some time tramping (on the trampoline).
And walking it out and talking it out and dancing it out and talking to the various monsters involved.
Or maybe there is a perfect, simple, elegant solution that I haven’t thought of yet.
My commitment.
To poke around (gently) and ask questions.
To be as patient with myself as I can stand.
To find the love, because it’s got to be in there somewhere, right?
To make room for all the parts that do not feel like love, because they’re legitimate too.
To remember that I can’t get this wrong, because it’s an experiment and I can change any variable at any time. To play.
Thing 4: salvaging? resolving?
Here’s what I want:
A massive administrative nightmare was uncovered this week, exactly at a moment when the First Mate and the rest of the crew weren’t able to do anything about it.
Some behind-the-scenes tech changes resulted in a day or two where the First Mate wasn’t getting all the incoming email. And just when we thought this was sorted, it turned out that our spam-filtering system had been updated too.
And on Friday it was discovered that there were HUNDREDS of unread (and increasingly agitated) emails that we didn’t know about because they had fallen between cracks that weren’t supposed to be there.
I don’t know what’s more depressing:
How terrible I feel about this, how upset people are, or the fact that we get so much incoming email that not getting a few hundred isn’t really noticeable.*
* And that’s why (cue hysterical laughter) I’ve been on permanent email sabbatical for the past two years.
Ways this could work:
So the First Mate has already responded to most of the pile.
We can apologize. A lot.
We can hope for the best.
We can consult with our tech pirates.
My commitment.
To trust that good things will come from this screw-up.
To wait and see.
To put someone else at the front of the V.
To write love letters to my business and my monsters and find out what they need.
Progress report on past Very Personal Ads.
Just to update you on what’s happened since last time.
Ooh, I wanted slippers! And you guys gave me all sorts of excellent recommendations, including fabulous I-am-a-jester slippers.
And then I accidentally found the most perfect ones ever down the street from the Playground, and I am in heaven.
Then I asked for order and ease, and those were definitely the theme of my week. My year, really. Very interesting.
I also wanted pockets of weekend in my week, and had no idea how that was going to happen.
But then my uncle came for three days of visiting, and for him I will always make pockets. So they appeared. And it was blissful.
And I wanted to memorize some passwords and I am so there with the two really important ones. Avoiding the others, but I’ll do some Shiva Nata with them and make it happen. Whew.
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 #122: it’s short for Jamaica.
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.
Wow, what a crazy, wonderful week.
I am in Sacramento and we are having a day of great fun, and whee.
In the meantime, let’s chicken and close out the week…
The hard stuff
I’m not really sure, it all happened so fast.
Seriously, this week was kind of insane.
The busy: it hurts my head.
It’s like everything was spinning just a little too fast.
And I’m constantly catching myself worrying about who or what I’m forgetting at any given time.
Wanting to catch up and not knowing how or when.
So many things! To be done! And they all will be done.
Just not this week. And that is frustrating.
Adjusting to new ways of doing things (and new ways of being patient about not doing them yet), and this is hard.
Really not in the mood for traveling.
I know it’s a tiny, tiny trip. And my last one for a while.
But I just was in New Mexico and North Carolina and teaching a bunch of Rallies (Rally!) and if I have to travel anywhere, why couldn’t it be recovery time?
Like… Hawaii?
Anyway, I am so done with being smooshed into airplanes.
Really, California?
The whole point of my annual teaching trip there is to be somewhere that’s not cold and rainy.
Sac has had some days where it’s actually been colder than in Portland, if you can imagine that.
The good stuff
Svevo was here!
My favorite uncle, about whom you have heard me tell many delightful stories, came by train to spend three days with us at Hoppy House.
We went for walks and cooked and laughed and played and hung out at the Playground.
Also we went to breakfast at a cafe and I had just written that post about how I get flustered when people want to know my name and say “Jam!” when people want to know what I’m doing for Thanksgiving.
Anyway, we ordered our food and I gave my name as Penelope and he gave his name as Jam. Yes, Jam.
He is the best person ever. I completely cannot believe how lucky I am that we are related.
Also, when he says he’s drinking hot tea, he means that there are chili flakes in it.
Hannukah!
Eating levivot and watching the candles burn.
And just everything being better and prettier and shinier because the holiday is here.
Huge progress made on annoying administrative stuff. Yay.
Reworking giant sessions of the Pirate Log.
Time-consuming, but really, really important. It feels so good to have movement on this.
Being in Sacramento.
Going to Dad’s (no, not related to me, sadly) for sandwiches! The best sandwiches.
I have been missing this place for an entire year. These sandwiches are pretty much the entire reason I agreed to teach at this yoga teacher training, aside from getting to see my beloved sisters-in-crime.
Seeing Michelle and Madeleine.
Being with the people you love. It really is that great.
What a … I don’t even know what the word is. It’s a treasure. Just so lucky to have these women in my life, even if we don’t get to live in the same place, you know?
In the zone.
I’ve been doing all this work on my stuff, with the themes of order and ease.
And at some point towards the middle of the week, I just got into the flow. That thing about waiting to catch the next wave? I caught it, big time.
Possible side effect?
Imagine this extremely unlikely (for me) state of everything working out in ridiculous, impossible, easy ways. To the point that it was kind of creeping me out.
The most perfect shoes in the entire world? One pair, just my size, perfect fit, and at a 30% discount. On the same day my old ones decided to fall apart.
A thing I was looking forward to was canceled, but they hooked me up with a massage instead — with my very favorite person in Portland for all things touch-related.
Oh, and a new therapist was going through a training there so I was given a twenty minute foot massage so I could be the guinea pig. I know, what?
Twitter to the rescue.
It really is the best bar.
Here was my original question:
“I need a word for THIS: someone has solved a problem that *looks* like your problem and wants you to solve yours the same way.”
I got so many answers that I didn’t even know what to do with them. Some of my favorites:
helpiness, hammer-heading, solutionary projection, narcassistance, narcissolution, Aunt-peggery, imposolutioning, faux-lution!
Yay..
And mine: roundholier-than-thou… for people who try to fit square pegs into the nearest available round hole.
I think I’m going to go with solutionary projection for now. It has that lovely combination of being both mock-jargon and something completely true at the same time.
Wonderful presents that arrived this week.
AGAIN, thank you to Karen for the amazing monster pillow, that I love and adore. Also, Karen is a super neat person and you should all hang out with her as much as possible.
I have warm and gorgeous socks, thanks to Yael.
Ooh, and thank you, Alexia and Willie for the wonderful monster journal!
And the Guns N Rollers for the awesome autographed and framed team picture that now lives in the Treasure Room at the Playground.
Beautiful things I read this week.
This post from Shannon describing the Rally:
“I sat under a tree and had a brainy new idea. I picnicked on the floor and drank out of robot mustache glasses. I admired art about getting drunk and eating waffles.”
And I happen to know that this particular tree was a pirate monkey tree!
Speaking of Rally (Rally!), a brilliant piece from Rhiannon about her experience there — with a picture from the Galley, too.
And I wasn’t going to link to Maryann this week because I have been going on and on about how smart she is, and while I am completely right, I was going to spread the love.
But this post! This post! And all the amazing posts of hers that are linked to in it. This is the thing I am always trying to explain about how Shiva Nata makes you a wiser and more connector-moused-up version of yourself. Ahhhh.
And I am so in love with this amazing chair. And so sad that it only sold for $80. Tragic and wrong. But my god the chair.
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?
Dancing on Bubblewrap.
They’re playing in town all week. Except that it’s really just one guy.
Thank you, Edwin and the Rallions from the Great Ducking Out last week.
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.
And also a chag urim sameach to anyone who is celebrating. Sufganiyot for everyone! Except for me!