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.
Shivaguanas!
Today I stumbled into an absolutely massive pile of iguanas.
If you are not familiar with the iguanas, I’m referring to the Inowanna variety: those things you just don’t feel like doing.
Today’s iguanas are all at least tangentially related to Shiva Nata, the brain-training practice that has altered pretty much everything in my life for the better.
Things on my Inowanna list pile:
Inowanna!
- updating the Shiva Nata blog, that hasn’t been touched in over two months.
- answering a bunch of questions
- updating what events are happening when and where
- updating the Shivanautical faq so we can press the pooblish on that
So of course I’m going to be processing the process.
Because the thing with iguanas (just like with monsters) is this:
Ignoring them doesn’t help. Fighting with them doesn’t help.
Pretty much your only option — other than directly doing Dance of Shiva on the stuck in order to get some insights — is to commit to interacting with the iguanas* and with yourself.
In the most conscious, intelligent, loving way you can stand.
Right. Not there yet, but headed in the general direction.
* Or at least interacting with the fact that they exist, if not with the iguanas themselves.
The Shivaguana Internal Rally starts today.
I’m creating a non-container of a container — more like a sukkah or a pirate ship to spend some time with this.
A mini-Rally. Maybe ten minutes. Maybe a couple hours.
But I’m going to dance it up. And ask questions.
To find out what my discomfort has to say, where my walls are, what the iguanas need to feel safe, and what needs untangling.
I don’t have to get anything done. I’m just collecting Useful Information.
There will be video game moments and monster conversations and much letting things be the way they are.
As well as much letting myself not like things being the way they are.
And putting things to bed. Possibly including myself.
Anyone else want to go iguana-watching with me?
To say this:
“I don’t need to fix you yet, I don’t need to understand this yet, but I’m here, and I’m peeking in your general direction and I’m willing to learn one thing about what the next piece is.”
Yes?
And … comment zen for today.
Dealing with iguanas is hard and painful. Or can be.
I do not even slightly mean to imply that it isn’t.
We all have our stuff. We’re all working on our stuff. Sometimes it’s old and tangled and full of hurt. I’m so sorry.
Here’s what we don’t do in the comments: unsolicited advice. Really, it’s the best way to avoid the spitting iguanas.
Ten things?
Who knows what madness was going on last night.
But I woke up this morning with that clenched, tight sense of GAAAAAAH Seventeen million things to do that all need to be done right this second or everything will fall apart completely.
Having spent many years getting acquainted with my fuzzy-but-loud Urgency Monsters, I knew this probably wasn’t true.
But it felt true in my body.
So in the interest of consciously, lovingly and patiently moving elements of this pattern around (the way we do with Shiva Nata), I am experimenting.
Today I will do ten things.
Not seventeen million.
Not even going to try to play the well-as-many-of-these-as-I-can-despite-knowing-the-futility game.
And I’m not letting the List-Makers of Doom come up with the ten.
I’m asking for ten qualities I want to experience today. And each one can give me a thing to do or not do.
And that’s it.
Doom Interlude I
Doom Monsters: This is one of your forced vacations! We won’t have it.
Me: No. This is what is going to happen when you wake me up with visions of impending doom. I get that this feels uncomfortable. It’s uncomfortable for me too. And it’s an experiment.
Doom Monsters: It won’t work.
Me: Well, you kind of say that a lot. So let’s leave it to the internal investigators and find out what happens.
Ten qualities.
- Sweetness.
- Rest.
- Trust.
- Certainty.
- Expectancy.
- Giving.
- Receiving.
- Quiet.
- Love.
- Sovereignty (the quality of being comfortable in the kingdom of your body and your mind and not caring what other people think about that).
Doom Interlude II
Doom Monsters: You are delusional. There are Actual Things that have to be done today. You can’t just get out of them because you turned into this dumbass hippie yoga teacher several years. We want YOU back! Come back!
Me: Oh, sweetie. That has to be really hard for you. I love that you miss this version of me that you remember with such fondness. You know what I remember about her?
Doom Monsters: Uh oh.
Me: Yeah. How you used to scream at her all the time. And how she would just shut down. You liked that she was compliant. But sometimes she was depressed to the point of not-functioning because your worldview was so overwhelming.
Doom Monsters: We were just trying to protect her from the Doom.
Me: I know, guys. Your heart is totally in the right place. And at the same time, you know, because we’ve talked about this … yelling and harassing is not the effective way to help me get things done.
Doom Monsters: Theoretically, yes. But we just want you to be okay. And it is so, so impossibly hard to believe that the stuff you’re trying will work.
Me: I appreciate that you want me to be okay. That’s what I want too. And you don’t have to believe anything. We’ll try it for a day and take notes.
Ten Things.
- Doing my morning rituals. Love.
- Going for a long walk. Trust.
- Mailing Hiro her birthday present. Sweetness.
- Having a longer conversation with Anxious Me. Receiving.
- Thinking — not planning but thinking about — my next Rally. Sovereignty.
- 15 minutes of old Turkish lady yoga. Certainty.
- Journaling about a wish I have. Expectancy.
- Preparing for client consultation this afternoon. Quiet.
- Call with client. Giving.
- Taking a nap or reading in bed. Rest.
Doom Interlude III
Doom Monsters: This is insanity. You can’t put things on your list that get done anyway. This should be ten things aside from client calls or your usual morning rituals. You don’t even understand how lists work! GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH.
Me: I can tell you’re feeling really upset and anxious about this. Because you care and you don’t want me to get hurt?
Doom Monsters: Obviously.
Me: What about how we agreed to experiment?
Doom Monsters: But your experiment is stupid. Just saying. And it’s also doomed!
Me: There’s really no way to find out unless you stop trying to sabotage it. I think you’re afraid it will work and that I’ll stop talking to you altogether because I won’t need you anymore.
Doom Monsters: Okay.
Me: I’m right, huh?
Doom Monsters: Please don’t leave us.
Me: We’re building a new relationship, remember?. And if you can stop dooming me all the time, maybe you can stay in a different form.
Doom Monsters: grumble-grumble-grumble okay
Ten Things.
It might not even be ten.
It might be more than ten.
It might just be talking to Doom Monsters all day and remembering how much they love me.
Remembering how I don’t have to agree to being loved like that. Remembering that things can change.
When it gets hard, which it probably will, I’m going to remember that this is an experiment. And that, statistically speaking, experiments like this have done a great deal to keep me from falling apart completely and having to go on Emergency Vacation.
I get to change the rules. I get to wear silly hats. I get to be afraid.
My Doom Monsters have some pretty compelling arguments, after all.
They know I’m the sole bread winner (god, that is such a Doom Monster phrase) in our home. They know this company is my baby and that I am a sucker for self-sacrifice. They know how much I care.
Patterns, again.
The thing I know from being a Shivanaut is this:
There are many ways to interrupt a pattern. They don’t need to be violent. And the best way to do it is with curiosity, playfulness and a sense of humor.
To be willing to flail around in the chaos for a while, knowing that whatever new form emerges is going to be useful.

(The last Doom Interlude)
Doom Monsters: You know what people are going to say about this, right? How nice for you, working from home. How nice it must be having all this time to just go for a walk or take a nap. That must be so NICE.
Me: What are you saying?
Doom Monsters: We know you. We know how the first three years of running the business you were a sleepless wreck, working nights and weekends and both harder and longer hours than any straight job.
Me: Of course you know that. You were there. It was all your fault.
Doom Monsters: Yeah but the people who read your blog don’t know that. They’ll be off in their own stuff about how hard their lives are, and it will just annoy them that you’re blowing off your work.
Me: I’m not blowing off — oh, right. Smoke and mirrors. Okay. You’re feeling anxious because you need to know that people won’t misunderstand me?
Doom Monsters: Yes.
Me: That’s sort of sweet.
Doom Monsters: Gaaaaaaaaaaah. Stop. Being. Understanding. What if they misunderstand?
Me: Well, that would suck. But it’d just be because they don’t know how things really are. Anyway, they’re sovereign beings and can have whatever reaction they want.
Doom Monsters: Oh. So you’re going to be okay?
Me: I don’t know. That’s the point. It’s a practice. We’re experimenting. Experimenting and taking notes.
Doom Monsters: Oh.

And comment zen for today …
We all have our stuff. We’re all working on our stuff.
We let people have their own experience, which means — among other things — that we don’t give advice, unless people ask for it (and you can generally assume that I’m not).
You’re more than welcome to share stories of your own, including any past or potential experiments in interacting with the doom and carving out space for yourself.
Kisses to the Commenter Mice, the Beloved Lurkers and anyone who reads.
Setting and place.
One of the most fascinating (to me) practices, both in the world of self-helpishness and in terms of business biggification is working with setting.
I’ve hinted about this in stories about the Playground — the elements that came together to create it, the process of moving from a tiny idea to something that exists and breathes, the amazing things that happen with the right setting.
And we’ve talked a bit about the symbolic powers of setting.
The way this blog space here has a particular feel and a vibrant, crazy, fabulous culture that lives here. How it’s both instantly recognizable and constantly evolving.
Anyway, when setting works, the most extraordinary things happen.
And everything you can accomplish within that setting ends up being far bigger, deeper-rooted and generally more astonishing than what you can do without it.
So sure, I can teach brain-bending wacky things anywhere, and it will be outrageous and great.
But even though my duck and I give good content, it’s always going to be better here than on some random blog (that’s partly why we don’t write guest posts). And it’s going to be better at certain real life spaces than others.
That’s why I spend a lot of time thinking about setting.
Setting for rituals and practices. Setting for teaching. Setting for experiencing things. Setting things up to make the entire experience more charged, more grounded, more silly and playful … whatever is needed.

Unlikely choices.
Even when you get this and you know setting (place + culture + look + feel + essence) is another doorway into big, powerful experiences — what my friend Maya calls transformative shit…
There’s always the doubt that it will work this time.
And it can be hard to understand why a certain setting is necessary or meaningful for making it easier to access certain types of (mostly symbolic) doorways.
A couple of people commented on how bizarre it seems — to them — that my Week of Biggification program in November is at such a super fancypants location.
To me it was a clear choice — not a secret hidden “method behind my madness” one, but a very intentional sense of this-is-what’s-needed.
So I’ll use this as an example to help us talk about a particular use of setting — we can also think about other ways to apply this without necessarily changing location.
Setting as a way to intentionally challenge yourself.
The Playground challenges people to be playful. With costumes and blocks and markers and cushions and blanket forts.
For the Week of Biggification, we have specific things we’re trying to shift. And the setting is special because it holds qualities that can help us do that.
And this is important, because these are some pretty deep, intense, life-changing (in the I-am-still-me-and-yet-everything-is-different-now way) experiences.
Yes, it will also be hilarious and full of epic goofballery. But we’re doing some hardcore deconstruction of stucknesses and rebuilding.
So. Not at a retreat place. We’re doing it at a very gorgeous, posh hotel.
We’re challenging ourselves to discover where our discomfort lives. We’re challenging ourselves to interact with qualities of comfort and ease, and do things differently.
And we’re challenging all of our assumptions about what we know about ourselves and the world. Asking, as always, what are we wrong about?
With love. And sweetness. In a place of beauty and wonder and other-ness.
Setting as a way of intentionally getting used to fabulousness.
This means: not being intimidated by wealth (whether being around it, having it, or being present in a world where it exists).
What this doesn’t mean:
This does not mean even slightly that this is a lifestyle you need to adopt or that this has anything to do with how you’ll want to live.
After all, being the sovereign power in your internal kingdom of you-ness means you always get to make choices that are comfortable for you.
As your business grows, you do not ever have to spend your monies on anything that does not support your you-ness and your values.
For example: despite being all biggified, I don’t own a car and don’t plan to. I know the qualities I want in my life — simplicity and sustainability are always at the core.
So this is not about having or consuming or acquiring.
It’s about choice.
You might decide that as you biggify, you will donate all your wealth to helper mouse organizations that do important change-the-world things.
You might decide that you will donate some of your monies to the causes that are in your heart and invest the rest in your business to create more good in the world.
You might decide that you are ready to have a healthy, cozy relationship with things that are comfortable, and that this kind of having is part of how you create a supportive environment to help you do your best work and give back.
I’m cool with all of those things.
I just want it to be a choice, not a reaction. A conscious, intentional, loving way of being in the world, not something that comes from stuckness and lack.
And I want everyone who comes to the experience that is this Week of (mindful, fun, silly, powerful, messy, clarity-inducing) Biggification to go through a process.
And to come out the other end feeling safe, comfortable and unintimidated.
So if you decide poshness is not for you, it’s not about judgment or otherness, it’s just about knowing what you need.
And if you come to the conclusion that you are ready to have more sweetness and softness and beautiful things in your life, that you can reach that in a way that is grounded and stable, not reactive and not defensive.
Ideally, we’ll all start out a little wide-eyed and uncomfortable in our surroundings. And as we go through the many processes of the week, we will end up getting to that point of yeah I belong here too.
Setting and location as a place for big, crazy change.
Outside of Asheville is one of the most spectacularly beautiful places in the world.
One of the reasons I decided that this hugely intense experience had to happen in this particular place is the power and beauty there to help us through it.
The mountain is extraordinary. The views are breathtaking. We chose November because the colors are exquisite. And also because I knew this was the right time.
The mesmerizing green green green of the hillside and the trees. The faded autumn colors: pinks and oranges. The faint pale purple of mountains in the distance. The rain. The outrageous sunsets.
Being in a place of beauty helps a lot. It just does. It is a facilitator of magical things.
The setting as a place for good things to happen.
The place where we are staying is exquisite. And crazy. Like this:
It’s on a mountain. You enter at the top.
And then you take an elevator down to get to your room.
The biggest challenge at the Week of Biggification might actually be people not wanting to leave their rooms because they won’t be able to tear themselves away from the windows.
Luckily, just as the Pacific ocean did incredible things for us (Remember? Dance of Shiva on the beach?) at the Destuckification retreat last January, this is a place where amazing things can happen with grace and ease.
It’s also a place to be cared for and to practice being cared for. Which is something we’re all going to have to learn to get more comfortable with if we want to biggify.
And I’m expecting this will be one of the side effects: one more thing we’ll be able to take back into our businesses and the rest of our lives.
It will also be a ridiculously fun place to run around with magic wands and clown noses, should you want to. Because that’s what I will be doing.
The actual point.
Well, a few points.
- Setting is something you can create anywhere. It lives inside of you. Like culture.
- At the same time, in order to have setting live inside of you and access it’s power, sometimes you need to go experience it.
- This doesn’t necessarily have to be a big, complicated change. In Hebrew we say, “change your place, change your luck”. Any movement that alters your perspective is probably good.
- Setting is something we get to consciously interact with, even at those frustrating times when we’re in situations that feel narrow and stifling — when we don’t seem to have much choice in our setting. Small, symbolic things count too.
- Once you learn how to be comfortable in more glorious settings, you can bring that comfort/beauty/appreciation/expansiveness into all sorts of narrow spaces.
- Changes in setting, like culture, can help you feel way more okay with being biggified. Just like how using the Friday Chicken to check in with people who are also going through the same stuff makes all that stuff seem less hard to bear.
- It is useful to intentionally use setting as a way to challenge patterns, surprise yourself, unravel what needs unraveling. And it is equally useful to use setting to help you feel safe and supported.
And that’s where I’ll stop for now.
And comment zen for today.
Working on this stuff is really hard. It brings up all of our internal “but but but” and all of our rules about how things have to be. If anything I said stepped on your stuff, I’m sorry. That wasn’t my intention.
And if you can’t make it to our Week of Biggification, thinking about setting and place is totally a way of symbolically being there, and maybe this will help you incorporate these principles into some aspect of what you’re working on.
Because really, when we talk about the power of setting, we’re INVOKING it.
Which means just thinking about this can move some things around in your brain and in the your internal culture. That’s what I’m hoping it will do for me too. Can we brainstorm on this?
p.s. Our Week of Biggification (password = pickles) is nearly full, but take a look. If you are on of the people for it, I would LOVE to have you there. And if this isn’t the right time, I will adore you anyway. xox
Catching the next wave.
My friend Michael has this theory.
It’s been at least a decade since he explained it to me so there’s pretty much no way I can do justice to its twisted brilliance/hilarity, but the basic idea is this:
Sometimes we fall out of synch with the world. Or with ourselves. Or both.
I imagine it starts with a sort of grinding sound. There you are. Out of alignment. And then everything stops working.
This morning, for instance.
Let’s see.
Within the first hour of awakeness, I managed to:
- stub two toes (twice!)
- bruise my shin
- trip on the stairs
- have a complete breakdown thanks to the ear-splitting migraine-inducing combination of shrieking toddler, screaming baby and yapping dogs from next door (and that was before the leaf-blowers started in)
- discover I’ve lost the notebook that has all the copy for my next two programs and the notes for the class I’m teaching today
- spill hot water everywhere
And some other things I’m not particularly cheered by or proud of.
Back to the theory.
According to Michael, the only thing to do on a day like this is to barricade yourself somewhere (at home, if at all possible) and wait it out.
Because days like this don’t get better.
And if they do, then yes that’s a pleasant surprise, but it might as well happen from the bunker.*
* It helps, in theory, if the bunker has a bed. And notebooks to write in. And books to read. And food.
And you wait for the next wave. For the moment when you can jump back into the flow of the world.
When you can be with it (and possibly yourself) in a way that’s slightly less agonizing if not necessarily harmonious.
Friction and resistance.
That’s why we’re out of synch.
But also what then makes it so impossible to do the thing (stopping) to come back.
This out-of-synch thing happens fairly often, of course.
As do these moments of recalibration.
But there is something about these particular days when the out-of-synch is so completely palpable that you can practically count the beats. You can feel how far you’re off.
The thing is, the pulling back sucks. There are these weighty things (work, jobs, having to pay the mortgage) that make pulling back impossibly challenging. Or just impossible.
The urgency monsters have pretty strong opinions (Doom! Doom! Doom!) about what will happen if you just stop.
Even when you know it’s the conscious stopping and pulling back that allows you to find the next opening.
Studies have shown…
It takes time to do enough self-investigation to be able to show them the numbers. To prove:
- That stopping does make it easier to catch the next wave.
-
That pausing to get back on beat is a smart, strategic thing to do.
-
That consciously taking a moment — even if that moment is a day — is not the same as falling into despair.
That it’s about choice and mindfulness and sovereignty.
This takes way more practice than most of us are willing to try. To get to that point where we can say, “Our studies have shown that catching the next wave is the appropriate course of action in a situation such as this.”
The point where you know going into OFF mode (even when you don’t want to be there) is actually part of the biggification process.
I’m not even slightly there yet. Still in research mode.
Sometimes I can’t even remember that there is a next wave.
But I take solace from Svevo — my wise, kooky, totally-related-to-me uncle.
This is what he says, in his delightful way of combining being totally subversive with a beautiful sense of wonderment:
“There’s this pretty intense societal pressure to be awake and do things. I’ve never really understood that.”
This is what I am going to think about while I sequester myself in a temporary shelter — some sort of place of in-between. A canopy of peace, maybe.
I’m going to wait for the next wave. The next force field (one that fits a little better). The new skin. The next round.
Counting the beats and talking to the walls and remembering whatever it is I need to remember right now.

And comment zen for today.
We all have our stuff. We’re all working on our stuff. We let everyone else have their stuff. It’s a practice.
We try to give ourselves and everyone else enough time and space to catch whatever waves they need to catch.
We can wish each other good things and give comfort and support, and we don’t try to hurry anyone out of where they are. That’s it. *blows kiss*
Very Personal Ads #63: evenings and wishes at my bohemian salon
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: evening.
Here’s what I want:
My morning routine and rituals are pretty ridiculously well-established.
But then the evening kind of falls apart.
There are a couple things I’d like to do before bed. Sometimes I remember, sometimes I don’t. Sometimes just too tired.
So I guess what I’d like for now is this: to get more information about what needs to happen. To plant some seeds for a more solid practice.
More curiosity and clarity about how I am in the evening, how I close out the day, and what I’d like to do differently. More love for my relationship with evening.
Ways this could work:
Hmm. I already have a bunch of things that work.
Like our no work after 5pm thing. And not going online. So the ingredients are set up.
Maybe a yoga nidra recording. Maybe I’ll just start with some extra quiet time before bed.
My commitment.
To keep a notebook by the bed to jot stuff down.
And keep thinking about this.
I’ll talk it over with Hiro. And do some Shiva Nata to get information, generate creative solutions and resolve whatever resistance comes up.
To be patient with this. This is a tangled thing, and there are a lot of patterns involved. We don’t need to try and rush in to fix everything at once. Time. There’s time.
Thing 2: Alright. My bohemian salon that used to be a teleclass.
Here’s what I want:
Gah. Yet again my sort-of-annual ritual of holding a special Habits Detective class sneaks up on me.
What this is:
Basically I’m a fabulous, wealthy and eccentric old New York socialite. In my head. And I open the doors to my rather Bohemian salon. Where I hold court and also whack things with my giant cane.
And we talk about some theme related to the stuff I teach about on the blog.
By phone. Or by dixie cup. Phone works better.
It doesn’t cost anything. Usually several hundred people sign up. We have the Chattery (that’s the chat room) for extra fun, and sometimes the madness spills out into the Twitter bar as well.
Anyway, it’s already next week! The twenty first of September. So I should tell people.
Ways this could work:
I can tell you about it right now.
Okay. This is the page where you sign up for the Habits Detective salon.
Which really needs a new name.
Also, we need a theme.
We can do shoe-throwing. We can do dealing with people who aren’t supportive. We can do whatever. Could you leave some suggestions in the comments? That would be awesome.
My commitment.
To wear an outrageous costume while I plan this. To laugh and play. To enjoy this class, because it is always a good time.
Thing 3: Not an office.
Here’s what I want:
I have issues with offices. I do not like them.
So of course, even though we will have been in Hoppy House two years come November, my office is still empty.
I am now turning it into a wishroom instead. And now I know exactly what I want in it. Excellent.
Except that as we all know, I am terrible at spending money on anything that isn’t directly investing in the business.
Working on it. Yes. Again. Still. That’s how it goes.
Ways this could work:
Let’s see.
I can sit with my gentleman friend and talk this out.
Bring some of it here. Process the process. Talk to the sad, scared parts of me who are apparently still living in an abandoned building in Berlin.
Also, I could visit the beautiful piece of art that I am currently lusting over and speak to it. Find out what qualities it has that I want. Find out all the different ways I could connect to them.
And find out what I need next.
My commitment.
To be willing to be surprised.
To keep asking questions.
To be receptive to a variety of different ways that things could move with this. To take lots and lots of notes!
Thing 4: Dana’s house.
Here’s what I want:
Do you live in Portland (that is, Portland the Younger)? Or do you want to? Scratch that. What a preposterous question. Of course you do.
My wonderful friend Dana is moving to Australia. Sadface me.
Here is her lovely house that is now for sale.
Dana is amazing. The house is amazing. Her realtor Hope is amazing (she helped us get the Playground!).
Come live there please. I might even drop by occasionally with fresh-baked bread.
Ways this could work:
I don’t know. But I do have a ton of readers in the Pacific Northwest.
And hey, this is exactly how I got Hoppy House. With an itty bitty personal ad.
So it’s worth a shot.
My commitment.
To be happy for Dana. To be happy for the house. To wish loving things for the people who get to live there.

Progress report on past Very Personal Ads.
Just to update you on what’s happened since last time.
I had an ask about more wishes, and spending more time with my Very Personal Ads, and that totally happened. In fact, I bought a wishing book, and have just been scribbling little wants.
Mostly talking things over with the why I’m not allowed to investigate this more monsters, and learning what I can about that. Looking good.
And then I wanted to do more things to welcome my right people to the Week of Biggification (pickles) .. and that’s been a really interesting/challenging process.
First I completely restructured my welcoming systems, then I wrote postcards to each participant coming so far. And I also wrote a love letter to the group, but I haven’t published it yet. Maybe this week. Needed more gestation time.
So far I’ve talked to everyone coming but one. And I can’t wait to find out who the last few people who will take the last spots: maybe we will meet this week!
The last ask was about spending more time with my body, and that was … complicated. It both happened and it didn’t. So I’m going to rewrite that ask for this 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.