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.
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.
Friday Chicken #110: breadcrumbs everywhere
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.
An odd-shaped little week.
Between Labour Day (which I forgot about, as usual) and Rosh HaShana, the week has been so far removed from its typical forms and structures to be almost unrecognizable as such.
But I suppose that’s kind of fitting for this whole Moon of New Beginnings thing. Yes, I name the moons. It is fun.
The hard stuff
Overwhelm again.
And of the annoying existential kind.
As in, how is it possibly September? It was only just May.
And all the things not done and undone and partially done. “Stupid taking account of things. Be less depressing!”
And that kind of thing. Not for too long, but not fun while it shows up.
Things taking so much longer than you estimate for.
Really.
So of course it turned out that decorating (what I call “editing”) the Processing the Process ebook took five hours longer than what I’d scheduled for it.
Oh yes.
It also turned out to be nearly two hundred pages.
Anyway. Five hours of high-concentration brain time that I hadn’t reckoned with.
Some other things had to go. It happens.
No, everything taking longer.
Even blog posts. Usually if I take forever to write a post, it’s because:
a) I’m stuckified related to some aspect of the topic and I need to work through it
b) I can’t find my notes
c) I’m getting distracted.
But I had no distractions, excellent notes and really wanted to write it. Plus I was in the zone. Nothing about it was a struggle. And still it took two hours.
Just this general slowness. Not foggy. Not tired. Not anything. Just slow.
But then impatience with the slowness. And then impatience with the impatience. And then impatience with the people telling me I shouldn’t be impatient.
Does that work?
Random nosy guy: “Oh, buying PMS Tea, huh? Does that stuff work?”
Me (out loud): “I don’t know. Let’s find out.”
Me: (in my head): “I don’t know. Let’s find out if I still want to grab you by your stupid shirt and bash your head into this wall after I’ve had some. Who knows. Maybe by that point I’ll also want to do more with my life than eat potato chips all day and hate people. Hey, anything’s possible, right?”
And, in case you’re wondering, no that stuff totally doesn’t work. Not on me, at least.
Interruptions.
Yes, I love the holidays.
And also I forgot how much they knock everything else over and make things impossible.
Time crunch. Argh.
Not being able to find things.
So many times this week I’d be messing around with a post or a piece of copy, remember that I’d already done a bunch of writing on this topic … nothing.
My system of where things go generally works great, but this week all sorts of things fell through the cracks.
Breaking the only rule I have.
This week I managed — not once but every single day — to break what’s really the only hard, fast “absolutely absolutely” rule in the giant Book of Me, otherwise known as the Book of Me Not Going Batshit Crazy.
And that is:
Eat lunch.
Preferably before you crash and burn, and turn into a completely nonfunctioning shell of a zombie podperson.
Not only did I break the rule, but then — immediately following the oh what the hell I can wait a little bit, chaos ensued, things went weird, unable to change course.
Completely screwed up each afternoon. Which might have something to do with all the other bits of hard this week.
The good stuff
Closing doors.
Getting rid of things.
Ending things.
Moving things.
It’s time. It’s good.
Shockingly, got all sorts of things done.
Including editing the nearly-two-hundred-pages of my Processing the Process ebook.
That wasn’t crazy.
Beginnings.
I really do love Rosh Hashana.
And tashlich is probably my favorite practice in the world. Still.
It’s nice watching everything you no longer need sink to the bottom of a river and dissolve.
And I made round raisin challah.
It it too gorgeous to eat but we’re eating it anyway.
Delicious.
More ideas than I know what to do with.
Including some ideas about where to put the ideas while they’re in percolation/gestation mode.
Some of them are really, really, really good.
Lots of anticipation and tingliness and peeking at what is possible through my fingers.
Ohmygod. The costumery! It is growing.
Remember a couple weeks ago when I had a Very Personal Ad asking for new costumes for the treasure room at the Playground?
Well. Lovely people offered lovely things. And among them was the fabulous and amazing Simone, fellow Friday Chickeneer and beautiful person.
Little did I suspect that “a few things” was to be a giant box stuffed with goodness and pirate booty.
A pirate cutlass! Wings and crowns and horns and boas and fans and shawls and chapeaux aplenty! Also what appears to be an enormous wreath made of bright yellow feathers.
The Playground is now significantly more full of weird than it was before, and this makes me exceedingly happy. Now cannot wait for the next Rally (Rally!).
Two exceedingly great Shivanautical epiphanies.
That of course make no sense when you write them down.
Because epiphanies are stupid.
But they felt like giant understandings deep in my body. So they were awesome:
- To be able to fly, you have to stop running first.
- Those aren’t barriers. Those are gates. All of them. Your perceived barriers are gates. Again, stop running. And just approach.
The Shiva Nata. It is the bomb.
This just made me laugh.
Maybe you had to be there.
My gentleman friend, with a surprising amount of affection: “I love you, you psychopath.”
(Unrelated but also amusing: He made me tweet my threat to open a shop across from Virginia Woof Doggy Care and call it James Juice — saying “come on, you’ll only lose like a hundred followers! Totally worth it.”).
And … playing live at the meme beach house!
Yes, that’s a Stuism too.
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?
Babushka Chicken
Not related to the Friday Chicken. And they kick ass. They’re playing at the Portland music festival. Except of course that it’s really just one guy.
And lovely things I read or found this week.
Joy, who is @thoughtsofjoy on Twitter and one of my favorite people, has written some terrific stuff.
Right now just really enjoying her new page about her take on marketing sotto voce, which I find brilliant and perfect
Bas wrote about how identity shapes projects.
This? This is the guitar I would be buying right this second for my friend who is dead. You know, if he weren’t dead. He’d appreciate this.
And I just read this piece on Heidi Go Seek, one of the Portland roller derby all-star skaters on the Wheels of Justice. Even though she’s not on the team we sponsor, she is still completely amazing.
Someone get my gentleman friend (or anyone, really) to measure my fingers so they can get me this ring. (Kiss to @darxyanne)
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.
More pomegranates. More shelter.
Yesterday we thought about containers, which is a word I dislike but a concept I love.
So we actually talked about shelter (and about blanket forts and ship voyages).
And building a sukkah (conceptual or otherwise) to symbolically hold us while we go through whatever it is we’re needing to go through.
…. and I said I’d share more from our time at the Rally (Rally!). Talk about containers. That was a blanket fort of total wild rumpusry of a container.
We had Shiva Nata each morning to challenge the brain because how could we not.
And then — post-brain-scramble — we did these stone skipping exercises where we asked questions and elicited smart answers from somewhere deep within that lovely state of chaos.
Here it is in two parts. If any of it makes sense, I will be astonished. But there are some marvelous bits of true hidden in there.
Part 1: Talking to the slightly-in-the-future version of you.
The idea: Talking to the me who has already worked on this. Say, me in a few days from now, post-Rally. And who now has a more loving relationship with herself and with the project.
What reassurances does she have to offer you?
Everything you might work on here is useful! And equally valuable. Equally!
That’s because each one feeds and strengthens the other.
This is not a house that needs to have one part done before the next one can be built.
As long as you are in your space with clear boundaries, and you have good rituals for transitions, it doesn’t matter where or with what you begin.
What advice would she like to give you?
Create spaces and space around you.
Boundaries around the boundaries.
Make them visible and invisible. Build them with blocks and markers.
What does she wish you knew?
How to make separations. And also to see how things are connected.
Invocations are not just symbolic. They define the space.
Writing about what you want to write instead of just writing is a valuable use of your time.
The best projectizing is all about setting it up for the magic crazy wonderful things to happen.
And that’s why you need big designated chunks of time, for transitioning in and out.
A fort of protection!
Seriously, honey. A blanket fort in your room is a marvelous idea.
Okay. Do you have something to give me as a resource, me-who-has-done-this?
Endless permission slips! Also: blocks to start making your fort.
A Playground that is supposed to be played in. Costumes!
The reminder that you are the Pirate Queen.
Play play play play play play play!
You are learning to make everything fun and full of playfulness and ease. That is why this is a Rally (Rally!) and not a retreat or a seminar.
How far away are you?
I am not far at all. The more you talk to me, the closer we are.
I am hiding in the trees. I can see you but you can’t see me. When you can see me, I will come to you.
Anything else you want to tell me?
Yes! About the Week of Biggification (pickles). This is important.
You are headed in the right direction. And it’s time for you to really truly know and understand that this is the exact right thing to be doing.
You did not just pick Grove Park Inn as the right place because the Playground hadn’t been born.
You picked it because specific things need to happen there. There is a purpose to being there. It’s about redefining luxury, comfort, ease and growth. This week will be more magical because it’s there.
The setting will be a sukkah for you. It will hold all of you and be a canopy of peace. And through all the hilarity and goofing off and laughing until you cry, it will be the ship that cares for you.
Part 2: A bunch of questions. But to me.
This is from the last day of the Rally. Extremely general exploratory questions.
What is true?
I am ready.
I am READY.
There is in fact no project that is too big for me.
All that process-process-process I’ve had to go through in order to have a Playground … I am done with things being so process-ey (even though I will of course keep processing things).
But there are no obstacles. There are NO obstacles.
I am learning how to remember to be a queen and how to rest and how to have supportive structures all around me. And this is all possible. Everything I want: doable.
This is messing with my head. I didn’t even know I wanted things. But now apparently they’re doable.
What am I wrong about?
How much of me people need. Really it’s the essence. The frame.
With those structures, I am not needed. Just for my me-ness to be present as a quality.
I don’t need to do as much. All I need to do is provide these forms and containers (see
I’m also wrong about how much time it takes for things to change.
There is deep internal experience/programming that says (quite emphatically): “But things have to take a long time”.
And there is a kernel of truth in that.
The truth is: germination and gestation is a process, and an ongoing one.
But it is also true that some things happen unbelievably fast. What if the qualities of germination and gestation can somehow combine with speed and safety? What if …?
I need maps and a wishroom STAT! Also to mark out the next stations in that crazy labyrinth.
What do I know?
The map I made from the labyrinth. That could totally be the thing that lets me know what to spend time on each day.
REST times lead to IDEA CAVE DREAM SEED times lead to RALLY TIMES and they all actually lead to each other.
I can do rest-dream-rally or rest-rally-dream or dream-rest-rally or dream-rally-rest or rally-dream-rest or rally-rest-dream!
Just like in Dance of Shiva. All points connect in all ways. Anything can be arranged into a new pattern.
Map this. Paint it. Make it true. Have actual real-life stations where you go in order to do and experience these things.
Three different types of blanket fort for three different types of experiences. Ask what they are and imagine them.
Design a safe room or sanctuary for you.
It’s a sukkah. And very … lavish somehow.
There are these huge pomegranates. Ripe fruit. Glowing gourds. Goblets. Embroidered cushions.
Gold threads in the red and white fabric that makes up the “walls”.
It is both sumptuous and temporary. It is a place I am going to in order to be cared for while certain processes are in place. In that way it is also like a mikveh.
Design a safe room or sanctuary for your project.
It’s a round room. Small, like in a turret.
And there are vine-like things to climb on. It’s like a crazy climbing gym, and my project is doing really fun strength-training exercises.
It is in training to be strong, flexible, speedy in its reactions. Calm under all circumstances. Healthy, happy.
It has the glow of exertion and power. It knows what to do and it’s doing it.
What do I know about closure?
That things are always opening and closing. It’s what they do.
That transitions and rituals are hugely important.
That taking time to turn away from something has meaning.
That I am tangled up with X partly because of no closings, and these traditions of lines being kept open, through dreams and hopes and memories.
That closure is like curtains closing. It is brief and temporary and a symbol.
Some things need to close to be closed. This is what makes room for the next door.
It’s not that one door closes and another one opens. It’s more that one closes so the next one can open. Sometimes.
What does my project know about transitions?
They happen in space and in time.
They have a symbolic importance that then translates into the real world. And even if you can’t see the stages, they’re happening.
Cubbies! Why do we not have cubbies? Also we need a phone booth or something to change costumes in. Oh yes.
Play with me! And comment zen for today.
We all have our stuff. We’re all working on our stuff. We let people have their stuff and their own experience. And we don’t give advice (unless someone specifically asks).
What I’d love today: play with me play with me play with me!
Even if you’re not a Shivanaut yet, if you want to put any of these questions to yourself and answer them, awesome. Or if you just want to think out loud (or not) about any aspect of this. Shana Tova.
*blows kiss to all the commenter mice, the Beloved Lurkers, and everyone who reads*