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.
We don’t need to be big.
We don’t need to think big. We don’t need to do big things. We don’t need to be big.
No. Let me say it like this:
We don’t need to be big in order to be biggified.
And certainly not any bigger than we want to.
Some explaining.
Some people think that working on biggification means they have to grow — in the sense of becoming larger.
Like this: oh no I don’t want to have giant staff meetings and oh no I need to have time for myself and oh no I don’t want a bunch of cloned coaches teaching branded programs with my name on it.
Of course you do not have to become big when you biggify.
No. That’s not what biggification is.
Biggification means:
You grow as a person. You grow your relationship with yourself. You grow into the version of you who is more at home in your skin. Who has more you-ness.
And is more comfortable sharing that kind of presence. And doing things that matter.
While connecting to the right kinds and amounts of people, presence and money to support your mission.
So.
Some (really important) points about what biggification really is.
Mindfulness.
Biggification is not about being big. It’s about being mindful.
I don’t care about big (or any variation on “think big think big”). I care about you having a conscious loving relationship with yourself and your stuff.
And not having to hide any more than is absolutely necessary for you to feel safe. So that you can connect with your people.
Meaning.
A lot of people think getting biggified means you have to want to make piles of monies.
And you can want to make piles of monies. That’s a legitimate thing to want.
But really, biggification means that you are not scared of who you will become when you have enough to live on happily, or more than enough.
It means arriving at a level of comfort with enough and with more, knowing that you can give it to the people and organizations who need it.
Knowing that you trust yourself to not become a total sleazeball.
Knowing that everything you do with all the resources you have (not just financial wealth but your big fat brain and your insights, courage, compassion, ideas and connections) has meaning.
Awareness.
Biggification is knowing what your stucknesses have to say.
It’s knowing how to discern between what is true for you and what is fear.
All the worries of what if I have to grow BIG and then I won’t like who I am or how my life is? This isn’t biggification.
That’s fuzzy monsters. That’s patterns. That’s our stuff. That we get to work on and destuckify.
Safety.
Mindful biggification means agreeing to not drag yourself out of your comfort zone (man, that’s an old post).
It means consciously choosing to challenge yourself while still creating safe spaces.
It means not going the way of resistance and fighting and hurling yourself at walls.
Not going the way of doing violence to yourself. Dissolving fear instead of making war on it. Healing habits instead of breaking them.
Noticing what’s going on and being as understanding and playful as you can stand.
Play!
When we biggify, we are always playing.
We wear costumes. We dance our patterns. We let silliness and goofballery and magic markers be a normal part of this growth that is organic and pleasurable and fun.
I have a lot to say about play. This might need its own post.
But yes, play is why I have a Playground (with monkeys!) instead of a yoga studio. It’s why I have a duck instead of a business partner. It’s why I’m a pirate queen instead of a CEO.
It’s why we rally at the Rally (Rally!) instead of a seminar or a summit or things that grownups go to. It’s why we have Drunk Pirate Council instead of meetings.
It’s why we’re having a good time.
It’s the obvious next step.
Biggification is always the natural extension of destuckifying.
If you spend enought time working on your stuff and rewriting your patterns, you’ll find that you have a lot to say.
You’ll find that there are things you care about passionately. And people you want to inspire or connect with. You’ll feel more of a pull to do things that matter.
It still doesn’t mean you want to have flunkies or that you want crazy visibility.
It means you feel significantly more comfortable being you out loud. And having whatever support need in order to do that with ease and grace.
And this is a good thing.
What’s not that important.
1. Whether or not you want to be HUGE.
It’s your life and your business. You’re a sovereign being. If you don’t want big, you don’t ever have to go big.
2. All those things that the biggifiers and experts talk about (having a niche, knowing your demographics, blah).
You can care about these things if you want to. But you don’t have to. I don’t.
What is — very — important.
- That you feel safe and supported putting things you care about out into the world so its right people can connect with it.
- That you bring more of your voice to the things you care about.
- That you don’t have to be intimidated by big. Or that you’re working on your stuff and destuckifying, so that you’ll be able to know that your choices come from love and not fear.
- That whatever being fabulously successful (and happy about it) means to you can happen in a way that doesn’t require you doing stuff that is anxiety-inducing.
- Stopping for thing like picnics. And costume changes. And to find out what you need next.
At the comment pajama party …
There is so much pressure in this online world. To figure out the right way, and to do what all the experts say (even though there’s conflicting advice everywhere).
And to do it quickly because we have bills to pay and we have urgency monsters, both of which are equally demanding.
So I just wanted to recognize out loud how painful and frustrating that can be.
In the meantime, we all have our stuff. We’re all working on our stuff. We let people have their own experience, and we don’t give advice unless someone asks for it.
Internet hugs. And popcorn!
Postscripting for three people: we’ll be spending 8 days on this (figuring out your plan for biggifying in a way that’s fun, not-scary, very effective and doesn’t require hugeness) in Asheville in November: The Week of Biggification. Password: pickles.
Nothing is wasted.
This was the hot buttered insight that emerged yesterday (thank you, Shiva Nata).
Like most epiphanies, it sounds pretty stupid when you say it out loud. But it’s still a gleaming piece of truth, and now it lives in my body and is a source of comfort.
Nothing is wasted.
Nothing is wasted.
I spent five years as bartender in south Tel Aviv.
And if you read regularly, you probably know I worked in some pretty dive-ey places.
I knew a lot of people. And an astonishing variety of people.
Artists. Writers. Musicians. Intellectuals. Local celebrities.
Surfers. Motorcycle gang members. Counterfeiters. Tour guides. Cab drivers.
People who did stuff on the black market. On the grey market. Connected to the Moroccan mafia. People with bodyguards.
Once someone tried to follow me home. Once I got a vodka bottle thrown at me. Once someone smashed my cellphone.
Once I nailed someone in the face with a stack of about fifty coasters.
I learned a lot.
I learned a lot about sovereignty. About not taking other people’s shit personally.
About right people. About how to run a bar.
About managing (people, expectations, experiences).
About creating setting. About creating culture.
About ambience and the power of everything that happens behind the scene.
About beauty and safety and pain.
What I’m NOT saying.
I’m not saying these experiences were good.
I’m not saying that everything is for the best. Or that suffering is a gift. Or that we should all be more grateful.
No. I would never say anything like that. There’s way too much implied “this is how you should be” in there.
Just that — for me — nothing is wasted.
I don’t need to spend more time on regret for each moment that wasn’t spent making the world a better place.
Because all those moments have come together to put me here now and headed towards where I’m headed. Not wasted.
Once I had a gig as a choreographer.
No, really. For a children’s folk dance troupe that performed all over the midwest.
I haven’t thought about that in years.
Even though I probably use those skills all the time …
- putting things (insights, projects, programs, ideas, words) in order
- creating sequences for things to happen in my business
- working with groups to make the impossible possible
- awesome high kicks for when we do Ironic Aerobics (totally optional) at the Week of Biggification in Asheville in November. Wheeeeee!
That job — and everything that went with it — has nothing to do with my life right now.
And yet.
Nothing is wasted.
Once I spent ten months climbing trees.
I know about things that you can only know from spending a lot of time by yourself up in a tree.
Nothing is wasted.
Once I spent three months in bed.
Near-catatonic depression.
Nothing to wake up for.
Only loss and grief and blankness.
Now I know what that’s like.
I can identify with things my clients deal with. But without being in it.
And I have a different relationship with both fear and emptiness because I KNOW them.
And I have many, many entries in my version of the Book of You about what brings me out of those dark places.
Nothing is wasted.
So many things.
Big ones.
I have loved and been loved.
I have lost and been lost.
I have done terrible, terrible things. And had moments of redemption.
Nothing is wasted.
And so many small things too.
I bake bread, name moons, cry, laugh, dance, list things.
Sometimes I’m afraid and envious and exhausted. And sometimes I remember that I get to be the queen of my life.
Nothing is wasted.
Where the stuck happens.
In the resistance, guilt and blame.
In the moments of “But whyyyyyyyy is it like this?!”
And: “But whyyyyyyyyyy is it not already like that?”
When I don’t meet myself where I am.
When I forget to give legitimacy to whatever it is I’m feeling.
When I believe my fuzzy monsters instead of being curious about what is really going on.
When I forget that I have support and so I forget to invoke negotiators.
When I need to be right, and forget about all the good stuff that happens when I’m wrong.
And yet. Nothing is wasted.
So I can stop and remember again.
And should you want to take this deeper.
Of course the next piece is this:
If nothing is wasted, then it is possible to extract the learning and the good, and release the pain that is attached to it.
I know that intellectually you know all of this stuff. You’re bright. You get it. And the next part is the process of learning to know it. In your bones and your muscles and your cells.
And: if you want to know this in your body, Shiva Nata is definitely the best place to start.
(We’ll also be working on the how of this — implementation! — at the Week of Biggification. The password is pickles. We just had a cancellation. Three spots left. It would be a DELIGHT to have you there to destuckify with us.)
And in the comment blanket fort today…
We all have our stuff. We are all working on our stuff. It’s a process. It takes time.
This is tough territory. So, as always, if I accidentally stepped on your stuff while processing mine, I’m so sorry. That was absolutely not my intention.
Again, I would never, ever say that you “should” find value in any of the hard, awful things that have happened to you. That would be a pretty condescending, obnoxious and really kind of violent thing to say or imply.
So use this idea of “nothing is wasted” in a way that does feel safe and comfortable for you. And if it doesn’t? Permission to never have to engage with it. Do what you need to do.
*blows kiss*
Very Personal Ads #65: avoidance mouse has his reasons
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: to find the organization that needs our refrigerator.
Here’s what I want:
Hoppy House has a GIGANTIC (also gleaming and beautiful) refrigerator that is much more bad-ass than we need. You might remember that I asked — several Very Personal Ads ago — for help finding a small, energy-efficient refrigerator.
And find it we did. But we need to move out the current one to make space for it.
So I’m happy to not sell it, and let it go to an organization who needs it — as long as they can physically take care of moving it.
Ways this could work:
- I could ask Hope, my realtor friend who helped us get the Playground, if she knows a good place to contact.
- Maybe some other friends are familiar with organizations — possibly a women’s shelter? — that could use these and has people who can do the moving.
- Maybe some of my readers can make recommendations.
My commitment.
To wish happiness to whoever ends up using this beautiful peace of equipment.
To appreciate the symbolic bits in this transition — to recognize what it means to downsize in a way that isn’t about less good, but about more good.
Thing 2: Projectizing!
Here’s what I want:
Oh boy. I have two small missions that really, really need some love and attention from me.
Also, they are extremely time-sensitive. And I care about them a lot, which is probably why I’m avoiding them.
So they need time, and as soon as possible. Today, really. That would be good.
Ways this could work:
I can process the process and write about why the stuck.
Dance of Shiva on it for some hot, buttered epiphanies.
Go to the Playground.
Ask smart questions.
My commitment.
To stay curious, without being judgmental.
To be patient, without pushing.
To find out what I need in order to do this.
Thing 3: More time with my body.
Here’s what I want:
This is a follow-up to an ask from a few weeks ago.
I want to be spending more time hanging out with my body.
And I want this to be active time. Not active as in doing something active. It doesn’t have to be high-paced aerobic anything. Unless I feel like it.
But active in the sense that I am present and here, as opposed to a more casual, passive way of being with my body.
Ways this could work:
Time to just breathe.
Be in water. Be near water. Walk. Move.
Take a class.
And, of course, more shivanautical escapades.
My commitment.
To pay attention and notice where this gets stuck or feels painful.
To give it time.
To find out what I’m trying not to encounter.
To remember that my absolute biggest priority in all of this is safety. Does this feel safe?
No forcing. No violence. No guilt. Just love.
Thing 4: Rally!
Here’s what I want:
Our lovely Rally (Rally!) is filling up with the most amazing people. Fun!
I still have not rewritten the page, though I made some small edits and it is considerably prettier.
Anyway, while I’m figuring out what I want to say, it would be lovely to say hello to the next batch of Rally-ites.
Who’s coming?
Ways this could work:
I can finish writing the page.
And I can remind you that it exists: the page about how great it is to rally (rally!).
I can go to the Playground and wear costumes and play.
My commitment.
To buy gorgeous presents for the Playground and for everyone coming to the Rally.
To write love letters.
To skip around the room.
Progress report on past Very Personal Ads.
Just to update you on what’s happened since last time.
I asked for a new Tech Pirate for our pirate ship, and we got a ton of people wanting the job. THANK YOU!
We (the First Mate and I) are still in the process of decision-making on that, and we really appreciate how many amazing people want to help us out. What an amazing thing.
My second ask was about trust, and that was kind of the theme of the week, as it turned out. Movement! So. Not done with this one, but the progress has been big and surprising.
The third thing was to finally put up a Facebook page for The Fluent Self, Inc and our pirate ship.
But it was really to stop being so stuckified about how I didn’t want to do it.
And then Kelly and Jacquelyn and Maryann gave me so much support with this. And reminded me to use Metaphor Mouse.
And now we have a Facebook page that is a secret bar.
Which is fabulous. It’s still totally a work in progress but you can come hang out with us there –> http://facebook.com/TheFluentSelf
Thanks, guys.
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.
Friday Chicken #112: yes, that’s right. A cucumber.
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.
The hard stuff
Headache.
You know that horrid phrase about eyes being bigger than stomach?
I keep being convinced I can get more done than I actually can.
And then getting overwhelmed.
Also, what made me think that scheduling teleclasses four days in a row would be a good idea? I have no idea.
Tired tired tired.
All I want to do is the sleep.
This does not happen to be especially good for the aforementioned getting done of things.
The iguanas. They are multiplying.
Iguanas. They’re everywhere.
Oh, I’m hilarious. Except not at all.
Really. Is there anything more embarrassing than being an hour late to a teleclass?
Yes, there is. If it’s a class on the topic of SYSTEMS. And a class that you’re hosting.
Luckily, Mark Silver is a genius and a sweetheart and a seasoned professional, and totally rolled with it and taught what was — I’m sure — a completely brilliant class.
And I got to be on the tail end of it to hear some good stuff.
But yeah. Um. I don’t have anything more to say about that.
Other than yes, I am happy to take one for the team and demonstrate what it looks like when systems have a hole. Look! Mine do! Mine do!
My favorite dress has died a tragic death.
Did that not just happen to my favorite pants as well? Yes.
Clearly this is a sign that I have to stop wearing the same thing every single day.
Or that it’s time to change my look.
Or that there is no sign but everything is slightly worse than it was before.
Endings.
My gentleman friend and I do not see eye to eye on the topic delayed gratification.
So we ended up watching the (sniff) final two episodes of Life, the beautiful, beautiful show that I wanted never to end.
Because, as he pointed out, there’s no point in saving your favorite treat to eat last if you’re just going to keep it in the freezer for the next twenty years.
And yeah, he’s right. And of course I’d already put this off for four months. But oh how I did not want it to end.
And even though I know it already has ended, somehow not seeing the ending made everything more bearable.
There is so much pain in things being over sometimes. Luckily, this gave me a topic for my habits detective-themed bohemian salon. So. Silver linings. But I still feel sad.
Stupid teabags.
You know those teabags that talk to you and give you advice and tell you to radiate kindness or whatever?
“Whether you give or share, are kind or not, never let your grace fall” — the teabag.
Somehow that completely got on my nerves. WTF, teabag? That MAKES NO SENSE.
*sings* This is nonsensical tea! It makes no sense to me!
Though bonus points to @zenatplay for responding thusly: “Teabags are notoriously vague and nonsensical. Bourbon would never say such a thing.” So true.
The good stuff
Ketchup!
Oh, finally.
So much catching up happened this week.
I’d been stuck in the middle of this four part series on “what to do when no one is buying your stuff” that I’m putting up at the Kitchen Table.
And so I — finally — finished that and answered a bunch of questions and generally feel better about everything.
Another giant iguana de-piling.
Remember when I deconstructed a giant pile of iguanas and doom?
Well, another one showed up and has been taunting me. Or haunting me. Possibly both. Anyway, the comfort and the win:
In the two hours I set aside for preliminary de-piling, somehow I was actually able to disappear most of the pile itself. Almost all of it.
And then I had a shivanautical epiphany that allowed me to realize what was creating the piling to begin with. So I’m kind of also hoping that this is my last big pile like this.
But even if it isn’t. Yay for now. Sparklepoints!
Putting up the sukkah!
Well, watching my gentleman friend put up the sukkah, while making admiring sounds from a distance.
Some people just look really good on top of ladders, is all I’m saying.
Anyway, we have a sukkah! The first ever Hoppy House sukkah! And I think also the first ever time I’m not teaching in Germany during sukkot in years.
See also: this excellent contest that describes the guidelines for sukkah-building.
Presents!
Actually, we get presents all the time.
Mostly for the Playground. Often for Selma. Even, on occasion, for me.
But this week was full of marvelous ones.
Is there anything better than a present box? Yes! A present box that says on it: “I am a present box! All stripey and full of presents! Yay for my existence.”
Thank you, Taylor. You are the best sender of boxes.
And then we got a box full of gorgeous handmade hats for the Playground — from Julie. Hooray!
And also a fairy door. Who doesn’t need a fairy door? I know.
Um, speaking of presents.
Of all the interesting — and even bizarre — gifts that people send?
So far THIS package received this week wins for weirdest. Possibly ever! It contained:
- A giant bag of peanuts.
- Within the first giant bag of peanuts: another — smaller — bag of peanuts.
- A cucumber.
- Two packets of Hollandaise sauce mix.
- Two pieces of green cloth, one solid and one print.
- A marionette … camel. With a ring tied to it.
Clearly I’m being proposed to by the most interesting person on earth. Or I am totally misreading this. Who cares? Yes! Yes! A thousand times yes!
Or maybe not. I don’t know. You’ll have to explain the cucumber first.
Hey, a non-depressing week in the world of sports.
For a change.
Did you see the Giants take the Dodgers TEN to TWO? It was amazing. Well, I didn’t see it. I listened to it, because we don’t have a television. But it was still amazing. And then I watched clips.
Man, being that happy kind of hurts. I’m so used to the torture, I don’t even know how to take this whole “winning” thing.
Then, in case you follow Berlin soccer, which you probably don’t (I don’t even think my German readers do?), in a spectacular upset which made everything better: FC Union didn’t lose to Hertha. Ohmygod.
Then they went on to lose to pretty much every team in the country, but we’re not going to talk about that.
Also Colleen was here.
Yay! We played at the Playground.
And I finally destuckified a stuck.
More about that on Sunday.
But I am mostly over my weird impossible stucknesses about having a Facebook page for The Fluent Self, Inc. (pirate ship at large!).
It’s here: http://facebook.com/TheFluentSelf
It will be our secret bar. Details to come. In the meantime, stop by and have a drink.
And tonight … dinner with Denise. It’s happening!
Remember how a few weeks ago I put out a Very Personal Ad for the right dining room table? And promised that once we had one, we’d celebrate by inviting Denise over to dinner?
Well. I found the table. But it was crazy expensive. So I VPA-ed (in my head) for an interim table that would be beautiful and functional and could then move into my office once the table-of-my-heart is a more reasonable thing.
Found it! Ridiculously affordable. Completely right. Very attractive.
The dining room can now be dined in. As can the sukkah. See? Options. Everywhere. This is good for me, since I often have difficulty seeing options anywhere. Options!
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 FBOTW is brought to you by Sheridan (hi, Sheridan!).
He says:
Today at work I am judging a cupcake baking contest. As a result?people have been sneakily transporting cupcakes around me all morning?(the judging is anonymous). For some reason my brain segued this into?a band name:
The Stealth Cupcakes.
Of course, it’s really just one guy.
I adore this. And yes, I am totally buying the new Stealth Cupcakes album.
And wonderful things this week.
Colleen’s piece on emptying out her life (“My stuff saved me for a long time, so I saved it right back.”)
And Rupa on why it’s good to be bad.
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 chag sameach. Happy week of gourds.
p.s. The Rally (Rally!) is filling up. If you can swing it, get in before I rewrite the copy to explain why it’s so fabulous.
Ask Havi #32: Green monsters. Dealing with envy.
Note: it is almost impossible to get on the Ask Havi list. Though of course you can keep sending scarves for Selma. She loves them.
Yay. First dinner in the sukkah last night! Please note that I did NOT get eaten by moths/bears nor do I have sauce on my dress. Calling this a total success.
Breakfast out there, though? Somewhat less romantic.
Okay. On to the monsters.
The topic. It is a big one.
A lot of stuff coming up lately in the programs I teach. Related to feeling uncomfortable when other people are successful. Or appear to be heading that way.
Some of these questions are about what you can do when you’re feeling anxious because you’re intimidated by other people’s success.
Some are more about jealousy. Or the more existential I’m not good enough crisis.
Anyway. I have way too much to say about all of this, even without trying to define the elusive thing we call “success” or venturing into Imposter Syndrome territory. So this might have to be a series.
But today it’s envy. And what to do when it shows up. And even if envy is not your issue, you can apply some of this to other situations as well.
Legitimacy. Again!
I know. We always start here. But only because it’s such a good place to start.
When you encounter other people doing their thing and shining at it, sometimes you get reminded of the ways you want to feel radiant and appreciated and acknowledged. You see everything that seems to be missing.
And it’s unbelievably painful. It’s also REALLY NORMAL.
I have these moments too. So do the most fabulously self-aware people that I admire.
Feeling envy is a normal and perfectly acceptable part of being alive. We don’t want to have to stay there, because the staying there is not fun and it doesn’t help.
But discovering that you’ve landed there? Not a big deal.
The next piece.
If legitimizing being where we are is the first step, the second step is releasing as much guilt as we can stand about the fact that yes, we are still there even though we don’t want to be there.
Luckily, it’s the acknowledging and the legitimacy that eases the guilt.
If it’s natural and normal that I would feel envy sometimes, then maybe I’m not a despicably horrible person for not being able to stop feeling it yet.
This is where I forgive myself if I can. And if I can’t, I can’t.
The art of releasing guilt needs another sixteen hundred blog posts. But I’d start with something like this:
“Even though I really don’t like feeling this way, I am allowed to have envy. It’s not the end of the world. I’m not an awful person. It’s a temporary thing, and I’m learning about it so I can move through it.”
Then it’s about shifting focus.
One of my wisest teachers used to say (she probably still does):
Build your own tower instead of knocking theirs down.
There are enough people in the world who take pleasure from trying to sabotage each other’s towers. We’re not going to do that.
So the new point of focus becomes:
- What do I need to do to strengthen, support, encourage and love my own thing?
- What do I need? What does my project need? What can I do so that I feel safe, supported, comfortable and loved?
Normally I wouldn’t ask these out loud, because they can be used as what I call “inspirational harassment”. Like the well-meaning motivational things people sometimes post on Twitter (“What are YOU going to do today to blah blah blah?”).
But in your own head … these can be really useful questions. And if not, don’t use them. Make up better ones.
The point is: we’re shifting our focus from “Aaaaaagh they have what I want!” to discovering what options we have: “What can I do to build my own thing?”
You can use Metaphor Mouse for this!
One of my clients recently noticed that she was trying to pull herself out of envy mode by saying, “Okay, I’m going to run my own race”.
But that was not fun.
Because running a race — for her — included elements like [+ sweaty] [+ exhausted] [+ miserable] [+ competitive] [+ can’t stop] [+ resentful] [+ no purpose] and [+ despair].
So we used Metaphor Mouse to deconstruct running my own race, and came up with exploring my new city instead.
Now working on her own thing has the qualities of [+ fun] [+ curiosity] [+ I can take my time] [+ resting] [+ discovery] [+ homebase] [+ joy] [+ appreciation] [+ hidden mystery] and [+ sweetness]. And she’s not obsessing over where everyone else is going.
Your metaphor mileage may vary, but I bet there’s something good in there.
The advanced practice.
When it’s possible, we work with it. When it brings up too much stuck, we drop it.
But here’s the concept. With bonus cliches!
“A rising tide lifts all boats.”
It’s true. The fame and fortune of the person you’re currently envying often as not ends up being useful for you.
I can feel envious of Jen Louden’s brilliant books. Or I can celebrate with her because I love her, and remind any small scared selves that Jen is awesome and is totally going to write the best blurb ever on OUR brilliant book.
Her glow adds to mine. My glow adds to hers. It’s good for everyone.
And if there’s interest in someone else who shares your message, then there’s going to be interest in your version, too.
Of course, we’re all human.
Even on my best days, when I can happily rejoice in the good fortune of people I admire and care about (whoo! advanced practice!), I’m still human.
So I’m not necessarily always capable of being truly happy for someone whose message I don’t like when it receives attention and praise.
But that’s okay.
You don’t have to be all joyous and fake confetti-throwing if you don’t feel like it.
You can still go back to building your own tower, though. And reminding yourself that there is room for you too.
Because what it comes down to is this:
It’s worth finding out what you’re really scared of.
That there might not be room for you? That you have endless possibilities? That what you have to say isn’t important? Or worse, that it is?
Those are the sad, scared selves and/or the fuzzy monsters worth having some conversations with.
And in the meantime, we get to work on our stuff. And do some tower-maintenance. And wear our crowns and our costumes and dance the patterns and not be so hard on ourselves. Or at least try.
Comment zen for today.
We all have our stuff. We’re all working on our stuff.
People vary. So use what you can and discard the rest. Try things.
And my wish for you is this:
May your tiny, sweet thing receive all the love and support it needs. And may you break all the rules, do some damage, laugh your head off and dance, dance, dance!