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.
Not actually a test.
I have been thinking a lot about exit strategies.
Not that I’m going anywhere. Definitely not at the moment.
But when Selma and I are done here …. or when we’re on Skabbatical…
What do I really truly want my people to know? What types of things can I expect them to be able to do?
If there were a final exam that touched on some of the essential principles of everything we do at The Fluent Self, what would it look like?
Oh, there are so many things I’d put in there.
But just a few, off the top of my head, while I’m narrowing things down.
Starting with seven questions. I even answered them so you don’t have to. See? Nicest test ever.
And I tried to be as succinct as possible, which we all know is not exactly my strength. Brevity points for me. And bathtime and bourbon for Selma.
Destuckification Basics, Part I
Q: Why am I avoiding this?
Because:
I care so much that it’s painful.
If I go near it, the fuzzy monsters come out to play.
I have unresolved stuck that needs some love.
Avoidance is always natural and normal and legitimate. There is always a reason for it.
Q: Why am I scared? It’s stupid and there’s no reason for it.
Because this has meaning for me.
Because I don’t want to get hurt.
Because fear doesn’t need to be rational. No, really. It doesn’t.
Q: How come [all these other people] can do X and I can’t?
(Or: How come they can do it better / faster / more efficiently / with less whining?)
Because people vary.
Also: you have no idea what the background story is. You have no way of knowing how much has happened behind the scenes to prepare them for this.
And you have skills and resources that they don’t, just as they have things you don’t. That’s how it works.
Q: How is it that I can use my skills to help other people achieve X but I can’t make it happen for myself?
Because that’s how superpowers work. Most of us are immune to our own superpowers most of the time.
Being a source of light for others doesn’t necessarily mean you can always see your own way in the dark. This is why we all get to help each other, which is a good thing.
Destuckification Basics, Part II
Q: What doesn’t work with monsters, pain, fear, stucknesses?
Fighting with them.
Ignoring them.
Telling them to shut up.
Telling them to go away.
Trying to outsmart them in violent ways.
Q: What does work with monsters, pain, fear, stucknesses?
- Acknowledging the fact that they’re showing up.
- Legitimacy. Giving them permission to exist.
- Making space between you and them by remembering that they are only part of you, and temporary.
- Finding out what they need to feel safe, while being firm about how they may or may not address you.
- Letting them know what you need to feel safe.
And yes, those are steps.
Also, coloring them while you hash things out is lots of fun and extremely effective.
Q: Does anything trump the “people vary” principle?*
Yes.
Nonviolence.
I’ll write that post some other time. Soon, I hope.
* hat tip to Paul Grilley for this phrase, which I adore.
Bonus Question!
Q: What is the difference between the first set of questions above and the second?
Take an extra ten thousand sparklepoints if you saw the monsters behind the curtain. All the questions in the first set were actually asked by your monsters.
The second set were just looking for information. No agenda.
Reassurances.
I’m not retiring yet.
Still here. With my duck and the Schmoppet and ridiculous amounts of Extremely Important things still left to be said. Not to mention all the completely unnecessary things that are just fun to say. Like haberdashery. Or smock. Smock!
The main thing is this: I’d like us all to be up to speed on some of the basics (obviously everything in this post is just an introduction), because it’s time to start going deeper.
As always, we all have our stuff and we’re all working on our stuff. This really, truly is not a test.
It’s okay to exhale. Ahhhhhhhhhhh. And sparklepoints and imaginary muffins all around.
There are two kinds of asking why.
There is the why that is about self-inquiry.
It is inquisitive. It expresses genuine curiosity.
“Huh. I wonder what elements combined to get me here.”
Then there’s the why that is really asking why the hell am I like this and not the way I want to be already?!?
The recent epidemic of the second kind of why.
“Why am I scared of my clients?”
“Why am I still procrastinating on this?”
“Why would I be avoiding something I care about?!”
“Why am I still not over my grief?”
“Why the hell am I not just making this happen already?”
All these questions are the same question.
And it’s not the kind of question whose purpose is to discover something useful.
It’s a monster question.
It says: “What’s wrong with you?! Why can’t you be different than you are in this moment?
Back to the basics of destuckification.
This is so important! Giving legitimacy to what is: always the starting point.
What you are going through is legitimate. That’s just the way it is.
Where you are is where you are.
It doesn’t mean we have to stay there.
It’s just that the nonviolent way to move through stuck is to give it legitimacy to exist.
To remember: I am not my stuck. I am a human being who is allowed to have stuck. And my stuck does not define me.
And even though I’d rather be over this already (reasonable! understandable!), I’m still in the hard. That’s just what’s true for me right now.
I don’t have to like it. But permission to not have to like it is what will help me get beyond it.
Once I’ve stopped criticizing myself for feeling sad, frustrated or annoyed, then I can ask why.
The two things I try to remember.
Thing 1. I would never be so harsh with someone I love.
If the love of my life were going through something similar, would I be really be saying, “But why are you still sad that your friend died? Why can’t you just get over it already?”
Part of loving someone is giving them room to have their pain.
Thing 2. There is always a good reason.
There is always a reason — if not dozens — for anxiety or avoidance.
It doesn’t matter if I can’t figure out what they are.
As long as I ask questions that are curious, inquisitive, patient and non-judgmental, I will always get information that I can use to move through the hard.
Not useful.
Harassing myself by repeatedly asking why, but not really wanting an answer.
Another thing to feel bad about! Downward cycle! A loop of awful!
Useful.
- What do I need? Is there something I can do right now that would help?
- What would help me feel safe and supported?
- What is true about this?
- Is this my stuff? How much of it is mine and how much is someone else’s?
- Is this from now?
- What am I wrong about?
- Is it possible that ….?
Especially useful.
“I’m feeling anxious because I haven’t been working on X and it’s super important that I make progress on it, and I’m not really sure what’s going on there.
All I know is: I’m in avoidance and I feel uncomfortable whenever I think about it.
I’d like to know more about this pattern and what can be done with it. Where might this stress be coming from, and what do I need to remember?”
Doing things differently.
If I’m asking why, I want to know it’s out of curiosity and love.
Am I giving legitimacy to my own pain and my own experience or am I trampling on it?
Because destuckification doesn’t work when we’re denying the stuck its right to exist. It works when we’re curious about what what will help us feel safe and supported while we’re working on it.
Okay. Done now.
*steps off soapbox and dusts it off*
Dolls.
I had a session with Hiro yesterday, which was brilliant and kooky and amazing, as always.
And she said something kind of like this:
“For someone as successful as you are …. well, it’s fascinating that there’s this part of you who believes prosperity has to come in tiny, tiny increments. From the doghouse to the stables, and only later to the house.”
Of course I hadn’t told her about any of this. She saw it. But I knew what she was referring to. It was the dolls.
There were two of them.
Two sisters.
They were poor. They had nothing and no one. They dressed in rags. They lived in the forest, finding shelter under the trees.
They were strong and tough, and had creative ways of getting by.
They used found wood to build a hut between a cluster of boulders. They made forest art. They picked mushrooms and berries.
Once they found a market or a fair at the edge of the woods.
And each week they would hike there and trade their forest findings for things they needed.
Clothing. Books. Pots for cooking. One time someone even gave them an old sewing machine, which they fixed up and began to make cushions and blankets.
Years went by.
Their crafts became well-known in the surrounding villages.
They moved into a cottage.
They were beautiful and happy. Making, building, creating, trading.
And as time went on, their lives became more comfortable until eventually the experiences of cold and fear and lack were just memories.
Or until my parents called to me that it was time for dinner.
Nope. Just me.
Whenever girlfriends came to play or I was at their houses, I was always astonished by how these girls would just start at the end.
They would set up the dolls in a gorgeous house with lots of clothing and a car. A car! And furniture. And boy dolls.
And then they’d … play. It made no sense.
That wasn’t a game. That wasn’t playing. The play was the process. There isn’t anything to do at the end except sit on a couch reading a book and basking in the good.
My girlfriends would also get annoyed at sharing the nice clothing and playthings for the dolls with me, because I wouldn’t actually use these for hours. They didn’t understand.
It’s your game. That’s the part I always forget.
Hiro, in her wisdom and her wonderful ability to be a complete sillyhead wackopants, said I could go out and get some dolls.
That I can rewrite the game.
Make up a new game for them. Change the game. Play again. A different kind of play.
But I couldn’t even imagine a new game. That is the game.
Finding the quality.
Hiro: What is the quality at the heart of this game? If this game is sacred play, what’s going on? Your playing was never about acquisition or growth for the sake of growth. So what is its truth?
Me: Well, there’s something about patience. And trust. And hope.
Hiro: And ingenuity and creativity. Taking action on your own behalf. Activating your powers. Elegant and unlikely solutions. All the things that make you such a good businesswoman.
Me: Oh.
Hiro: Take these qualities and these elements and make a new game.
The zen of the giant collective Comment Blanket Fort.
I would love for you to play with me.
With dolls. Or in your head. That counts too.
Or just thinking (out loud or otherwise) about what this.
What some of our hidden ideal narratives of “success” might be. And where we trip over these imaginary scenarios.
As always, we all have our stuff and we’re all working on our stuff. So we let people have their own experience and we don’t give each other unsolicited advice.
I am going to get two dolls. And take them to the Playground.
postscript: The new Rally page (Rally!) is up. I still don’t know how to explain how great it is but at least now you get a feeling. There’s another page too that’s a Rally FAQ — I hope we covered everything, but if not you’ll let me know.
Closing Doors.
I wrote a post about closing doors.
And then lost it.
The post, yes?
Which is kind of interesting, given that a lot of what I had to say about closing doors had to do with order.
Anyway.
I am in the process of ordering things. Not around. Just figuring out some new sequences and structures and putting things in their place.
Ending things that need to be ended.
Closing all the doors that need closing.
Here are the questions I’m asking myself today:
- What doors can I close right now?
- What would make my life easier right now?
- What will make this more lighthearted and playful?
- What here needs order?
- And what here could do with a little intentional chaos?
So. Here’s what came up.
What doors can I close right now?
Hmmm.
Most of what’s coming up seems to use the formula of “Follow up with [X] about [Y] so that I can [Z].”
Not a great formula. Because of the built-in iguanas (iguana = anything you don’t feel like doing). Inowanna!
Okay. So stepping around the iguanas for now. What doors can still be closed without having to encounter an iguana?
- I can look for an awesome replacement flashlight (Etsy?)
- Gather my list of questions for the next Drunk Pirate Council.
- 45 minutes of de-piling the pile (and putting the iguanas aside as they show up)
What would make my life easier and/or better right now?
- Clearing away these dishes.
- Inventing a kooky ritual.
- Permission to not have to look at that one thing I thought was going to get some love yesterday but didn’t because I was too depressed about our Rose City Rollers not making it to Nationals.
- A grilled cheese sandwich.
What will make this more lighthearted and playful?
- Going for a walk to clear my head before I need it.
- Music.
- Getting out the fabulous rhinestone gloves.
- Did I say grilled cheese sandwich? I did. Still want one.
What here needs order?
- This giant pile of doom.
- The fog in my head.
- The sequence of doors that need closing.
And what here could do with a little intentional chaos?
Everything, probably.
It’s like in Shiva Nata when we intentionally step into chaos in order to regroup.
We intentionally choose the flailing and the confusion to force the brain to generate creative solutions.
And then we systematically build new patterns. While following exact mathematical sequences.
So aside from doing some Dance of Shiva to The Clash …
What else will give me that sensation of intentional chaos?
What can I turn upside down?
You know what? I’m going to mess up the pile and spread it all over the floor.
And then pretend that there is a sequence to it. And look for clues. And then eat a grilled cheese sandwich.
Play with me?
You can close some doors.
Or ask what would make things easier.
Or find out what needs order and/or chaos? Or have a sandwich.
I would love some company on this one. Because it’s iguana city around here.
As always, we make nice in the comments. We let people have their own experience (because we’re all working on our stuff).
And we don’t give advice (unless someone asks).
Big love to you on this seriously Monday-esque Monday.
Very Personal Ads #66: now I kind of have to give this one a stupid name.
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: a name for a thing.
Here’s what I want:
There is a technique that I use when I’m projectizing.
It is extremely useful. I have no idea what to call it. And it’s complicated to describe.
So it really needs a name so that I can reference it (hey, I’m doing the thing that I always do) and teach it (hey, you can use this thing I do as another unlikely way to approach destuckifying whatever isn’t working).
Ways this could work:
Not sure. Maybe I’ll do some writing about this at the Kitchen Table, and see if people can help me out.
My commitment.
To come up with at least four examples.
To take notes.
To be patient with this.
To invoke Metaphor Mouse.
To trust that something will come, just like it did with naming the business.
Thing 2: a non-violent workout.
Here’s what I want:
This is kind of a follow-up to last week’s ask about spending more conscious time with my body.
So. I’ve been doing that in various ways and it’s been up and down. Mostly up.
But then I went to a pilates class and it was just … I was not right people for this particular class.
What I’d like:
To find a class (maybe dance routines, aerobics) that is laid back and pleasurable.
Where I can practice being with my body in ways that are mindful and experimental and maybe even joyful. And not constantly looking at the clock wondering when the torture is going to end.
Ways this could work:
I will do more internet research and ask around.
When asking, I will try to be really clear about what I don’t want — no violence, nothing with a ridiculous name, no yoga classes. And about my personal definitions and parameters.
Violence = anything that is about push push push instead of meet yourself where you are.
Ridiculous = acronyms, uncreatively smooshed-together words or anything with a trademark.
I don’t care how great Zumba is. I’m not going to do it because it’s called Zumba. Same for M.E.L.T. Same for Yogalates. Same for Pilyogics. Or Pilogarobics.
[Sincere apologies to any Zumba or Piloyoga teachers. I’m sure the thing you teach is fabulous. And I am probably missing out on it by being shallow and opinionated. That is the price I pay for being overly sensitive to words. My loss.]
And yes, I’m aware that I also teach something with a very problematic name (hello, Dance of Shiva), but that’s because it’s from an ancient practice. And at least I’m not calling it Shivoga or anything.
Yoga = the love of my life. So the problem is not that I don’t like Hatha yoga and all yoga. It’s that I love it way too much.
Having taught for years while studying with the best minds in the field has made it extremely tricky to find a good fit. It’s better for me to stick to my own practice.
My commitment.
To hold off on this while I’m in my hormonal funk of hating everything.
To make room for the possibility that there is something I might like. And if there isn’t, to use my vast experience of teaching and doing teacher trainings to invent something.
To do some tramping while I figure this out.
Thing 3: patterns.
Here’s what I want:
Working on two, old, stuckified patterns that keep coming up. Possibly (probably) related.
Needing some help and focus with this.
Ways this could work:
I can dance on it some more, and use Shiva Nata to zap my brain and generate some epiphanies.
Writing. Lots of writing.
Talking to some monsters.
My commitment.
Patience.
Love.
Sweetness.
Curiosity.
Balls.
Thing 4: Rallions!
Here’s what I want:
Two more lovely people to decide they’re coming to Rally (Rally!) with us on the 11th.
Ideally these two people will do this before Toozday, because I’m pretty sure that’s when the early brunch price ends. And because if you’re flying (we have people coming from Texas, New Mexico, Colorado and Washington), you want to book flights.
Ways this could work:
I can remember to tell you guys about it.
We could put up the rest of the new copy.
My commitment.
To madly adore everyone coming and buy them presents. Rally!
Progress report on past Very Personal Ads.
Just to update you on what’s happened since last time.
Let’s see. I wanted an organization to take our refrigerator, and while the refrigerator is still with us, I got three excellent suggestions for good places. Now I just need to call them.
(Next VPA: progress on the phone phobia!)
Then I asked for projectizing progress. And that definitely happened. Thank goodness for the Playground. It is the best place in the entire world for getting stuff done. Magical.
And I wanted more time with my body, and yes. More to do there, but feeling good about this. Then there was another Rally-related ask, and we have some absolutely amazing people coming so I’m excited.
I love that we do this. Seriously, this ritual has turned into my favorite part of the week.
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!
What I’d rather not have:
- The word “manifest”.
- To be told how I should be asking for things.
- To be judged, psychoanalyzed or given advices.
Wishing love and good things for your Very Personal Ads! So glad for everyone doing this with me.