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.

Very Personal Ads #61: advanced wishing!

very personal adsPersonal 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: The Week of Biggification!

Here’s what I want:

So I’m teaching a thing that is quite possibly the most crazy-inspired brilliant life-changing thing ever, and I am far too excited about it.

It’s eight days of Biggification* in Asheville, North Carolina. November 3-10.

* Biggification! Mindful biggification! Growing yourself and your thing in creative, fun, hilarious ways, dissolving fears, making things happen, coming up with the most genius plan possible.

Even though this program is already more than half full (because my clients insisted on first dibs), it would probably be a good thing if I put up the copy and announced it and stuff like that.

Right now I cannot even begin to describe how impossibly fabulous this is, but you can at least peek at the outrageously great itinerary to get an idea.

Ways this could work:

I can do the three things that need to be done for the HAT (Havi Announces a Thing) page to go live.

One of those things? Remembering to un-password-protect it. Right.

I can write love letters to the right people.

And dance dance dance.

My commitment.

To remember how much fun this is going to be.

To adore all my people, and remember (remind them too) that even if we can’t be together this time, we will do wonderful things together eventually.

To bring this joyfulness and appreciation and silliness into every single thing I do related to our Week of Biggification. No work. Just play.

Thing 2: Being immune to other people’s angst. A perfect, simple solution.

Here’s what I want:

Someone close to me is dealing with pretty high levels of existential angst right now. Oh! So much hard.

I want to be able to love this person with my whole heart, and still take care of myself so that my distress doesn’t get triggered by their distress.

Ways this could work:

I can remember that I already know how to do this.

I can practice separating my stuff from their stuff. Reminding myself that I get to work on what’s mine and not on anything else.

What else? I can process the process and do a bunch of writing about it. Have conversations with my monsters, and with my sad, scared selves.

I can work with Hiro‘s excellent advice to create safe spaces for myself.

My commitment.

To be receptive to perfect, simple solutions other than the most obvious one (me doing more with my stucknesses).

To avoid certain topics of conversation.

To be loving to myself when I can, and trust that it will come when I can’t.

Thing 3: So close to done!

Here’s what I want:

I have a project that I have been projectizing and it is so almost ready.

It really just needs a few more hours of love from me.

But this week has client calls and teleclasses and visitors and brunching the Week of Biggification.

Can it be done? And how? And in a way that doesn‘t involve a descent into madness? Oh I hope so.

Ways this could work:

Not sure.

Maybe some early morning cafe time with Selma (my duck) and Mack (my computer).

Maybe some writing to myself about creating pockets of time like we did on the Rally (Rally!)

My commitment.

To want this. And to trust that wanting counts.

To stay connected to myself. To sneak off and have a sexy love affair with this project.

To hang out with metaphor mouse some more.

Thing 4: Anyone driving from San Francisco to Portland?

Here’s what I want:

Last week I asked for costumes for the Playground, and then LeeAnn made us the charming offer of three boxes she has.

She’s in San Francisco. We’re in Portland. Maybe we can find someone who is planning a drive up the coast who would like to perform the mensch-like service of costume-delivery!

Ways this could work:

I can put out the ask here, among my lovely readers and into the ether.

We could look on Craigslist. My amazing uncle Svevo, who often does odd and unlikely things — some of which involve creative ways to move things from one place to another — might have ideas too. I can ask him!

Also, I can choose a date by which I would like this to happen, so that if it doesn’t, we can arrange to have her ship them to us and pay the costs.

My commitment.

To appreciate the wealth of creative ideas and possibilities that are available to me.

To be receptive to this working out in a way I might not normally think of.

To dance happily around the costume room in my feather boa, of course.

Progress report on past Very Personal Ads.

Just to update you on what’s happened since last time.

Oh the joyfulness. So yes, I asked for a wild rumpus of costumery, and all sorts of wonderful people gave me ideas and suggestions.

And then some people offered to mail us things! Hooray!

If you are one of those people, you can send things here:

The Fluent Self
1526 NE Alberta St #218
Portland, OR 97211
United States

Thank you!

I also made an ask related to a dining room table for Hoppy House, and, more specifically, figuring out why I am stuckified around this. Some progress was made.

A gorgeous table was peeked at. The realization that we may need someone with a truck was pondered. And it was thought about. So this case is not yet closed but I will keep thinking about it.

And then I wanted to do some more thinking about my Shivanautical epiphany that not everything needs a response, and that has definitely been happening. A good week of VPA-ing, all in all. Happy.

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 #108: oh sun salutations, I suppose

Friday chickenBecause 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.

One hundred and eight of them.

Anyway. It’s Friday! Time to chicken.

Which, by the way, I protest as being thoroughly preposterous. Friday? There is no way whatsoever that Friday could be here again.

Clearly my calendar is full of the crazy. That is the only reasonable explanation I’m willing to accept.

The hard stuff

Soreasaurus mouse. I am one.

First the sore back from nightmares and thrashing around unhappily.

Then exacerbated by spending an entire day clearing out the Pirate Queen quarters at the Playground and doing way more heavy lifting than was good for me.

I’m sorry, sweet body of mine. That was not nice. You are right to be annoyed with me. I will try not to forget that we are twice as old as we are in my head.

Sadness and memories.

Worked through a lot of crap this week.

Old stuff. Getting closer to resolving some of it. Still not fun, though. Surprisingly.

Ayiiiii.

My gentleman friend’s car was run into (he was fine) in New Mexico, and the bill that we might or might not have to pay is exorbitant and depressing.

Trying to maintain faith that this will be taken care of and not by us.

The heat wave that will not end.

Enough. Really. I would like my brain back, please.

Airports!

We were at the airport way too many times this week.

And I always think that picking someone up won’t be a big deal but then it somehow devolves into chaos and absurdity.

Delays and miscommunications and we never remember to pack food and water because we never expect it to be an ordeal but then it is an ordeal.

Too many ordeals this week. I am done.

And just generally tired, cranky and ready to hide under a bed for a while.

Yes, well.

The good stuff

Yard sale fabulousness in our neighborhood. Score!

Oh, I bought the most perfect and delightful presents for my dear, sweet Playground. For practically nothing. Schnäppchen!

We are now the proud owners of two hobby horses, an assortment of alphabet blocks and puzzles, a pirate trunk and spiderman on a motorcycle.

Awesome. As were the thoroughly entertaining conversations that accompanied this.

Neighbors down the block: “Wow, so how old are your kids?” Me: “Huh?”

Even more shivanautical epiphanies. Hot!

I do Shiva Nata and then I have unbelievably brilliant ideas and then run around shouting gleefully about what a genius I am.

It is probably extremely annoying for everyone else in my life but oh the fun for me.

I did a smart thing.

Not letting Mack (the laptop, of course) stay home but instead having him sleep at the Playground.

Less internet-ing. More designated times and spaces for computerizing.

This was a very good thing.

Clarity and spaciousness and things like that.

Hugely energized from a session with Hiro, my sister-in-silliness-and-wonder, I performed minor miracles.

That is to say, I cleared out my office and the bedroom closet and entirely transformed the Pirate Queen Quarters at the Playground.

It took an entire weekend but it is making everything better.

Summer! It is so delicious I can hardly stand it.

The farmers market!

Peaches and nectarines. Blackberries! Cherry tomatoes and basil on my gentleman friends’s homemade sourdough bread.

Homemade cheeses.

Red pepper soup!

At least seven times a day I declare whatever it is I’m currently consuming to be the ambrosia of the gods and then I must immediately swoon again on the nearest fainting couch.

Jane!

My dear, sweet Jane, the friend I do not get to see nearly as often as I would like, was in Portland for THREE WHOLE DAYS and I got to monopolize her time completely.

So lovely.

Hope and trust.

The notion that one day I will be okay (and not just okay but ENTHUSIASTIC) about the having space that is just for me.

The idea that I will gleefully claim it and no longer be ambivalent and/or resentful about space and having it …

This is a hard thing for me right now, but feeling hopeful about it is really good.

Gigantic full moon plus porch swing plus blackberries.

Really, summer is blissful.

And … playing live at the meme beach house: it’s the Fake Band of the Week!

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 I’m delighted to introduce you to:

Nubble Dots

This is from @butwait on Twitter. You will love this band. Of course that it’s really just one guy.

And … the not hard and not good but occasionally kind of accidentally hilarious.

So there’s this guy on Twitter who also goes by a name that sounds like mine but his has a second v.

And his friends are either not especially bright or not perceptive or both, because they are constantly tweeting things to me that are meant for him.

It is quite clear when this happens because my people do not (generally) misspell things in extravagant ways, nor do they (generally) say things to me about jesus or partying or partying with jesus.

So I know that a person who has just said something especially bizarre and nonsensical to me (but not the usual kind of bizarre and nonsensical that I would totally expect from say, you) will turn out to be one of the other Havi people.

Anyway, it happens all the time but for some reason this week it was more entertaining than usual.

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.

Not everything requires a response.

Among the many weird, marvelous and extraordinary things that happened at the Rally (Rally!), this one was possibly the most surprising.

After some badass spiral practice, I chose six questions and we let those questions be like stones skipping through water.

We scribbled furiously, documenting whatever emerged from the brain-scramble. From our mathematically-overloaded chaos-infused beautifully restructured minds.

And, among other things, this one VERY clear, very insistent sentence:

Not everything requires a response.

It kind of shook me up. If “kind of” = a lot.

To be clear! This is all me-talking-to-myself, yes? The responses are also me.

The conversation.

Me: Wait, what? WHAT?! WHAT?! What is that even supposed to mean?
Response: Not. Everything. Requires. A. Response.

Me: But that’s crazy. Also: that cannot possibly be true.
Response: And yet, not everything requires a response.
Me: *finds nearest fainting couch and collapses upon it dramatically*

Assuming truth and going from there.

Me: If not everything requires a response, what does this mean for me?
Response: Well, it gives you a lot of freedom.

It also gives other people a lot of freedom. They are sovereign beings. They can either deal with their stuff or not deal with their stuff.

It can actually be very respectful of you when you intentionally don’t respond.

When this lack of response comes not from avoidance or resistance but consciously recognizing that this is not something that needs to be responded to.

Me: Overwhelming resistance jumping on giant trampolines in my belly!
Response: Nu …? So what does the resistance have to say?

But everyone else does it.

Me: X always responds! Y always responds! Look at all these people I hugely admire who always respond to everything! How can I not respond?

Response: You are responding.

By determining that a response is not necessary. By respecting their sovereignty.

Not everything has to do with you or requires your attention or needs to be in your world. Part of not playing kindergarten teacher is practicing discernment about what gets to come in.

Sovereignty includes this certainty: knowing that not everything requires a response.

How do you know what needs a response?

Me: How am I supposed to know what does or doesn’t need a response?
Response: If it’s a hurt, sad, scared part of you, that always needs a response.

However, it doesn’t have to be an immediate one and it doesn’t have to be a jumping-in-and-helping one. You acknowledge your hurt and discomfort, and that is enough.

Me: And if people are upset with me or say hurtful things?
Response: If you are hurting, you interact with your pain around being misunderstood.

That is the response. The first response is to you. Always. If you choose to respond to them, you can choose if that happens internally or externally.

You can use compassionate communication with them to meet them with love. But that process can just as easily take place in your head or on paper.

After that, if you truly wish to respond out loud, you may do so. While still knowing it isn’t required of you.

If people hate me for not responding?

Me: What if people hate me because I’m not responding to them?
Response: Unless they’re trolls, they’re working through their own stuff anyway.

It is not your mission to be the acknowledger for every single person in the world. One of the things you model is how to acknowledge your own stuff and destuckify.

They can either use those tools or not. It’s up to them.

If they can’t handle it, that’s their stuff. If you’re bothered by whether or not people like you, that’s your stuff.

But what about …?

Me: What about how A says “every conflict is an opportunity”?
Response: Well, he is correct in a sense. There is truth in that.

And yet, not responding at times when no response is required of you is ALSO an opportunity for establishing the culture and for learning.

It’s actively, consciously not taking responsibility for other people’s stuff.

And that is part of what makes the culture you are establishing so brilliant, so safe, so grounded, so loving and so full of freedom.

Anyway, when has A ever been 100% right? He is never more than partially right, at most. So assume only-partial-truth by default, and then find what is true.

How do you find what is true?

Me: How do I find what is true?
Response: Part of you believes you absolutely have to respond to everyone in order to acknowledge them and set the culture. What is her hidden truth?

Me: That there is tremendous power in acknowledging things.

That when you acknowledge something you release the essence, just like I’m doing now. That love is what is given when you acknowledge pain.

And that when I consciously choose to not give something a response, this is also an acknowledgment, both internal and external. It’s like answering a greeting with a smile. Responding can happen on many different levels other than verbally.

Response: Yes.

But but but. Again.

Me: I still have this but but but feeling coming up.
Response: And what is feeling uncomfortable for you with this?

Me: Okay. So theoretically I can consciously choose the response of not responding. But then all this negativity is headed my way. I will be flooded in negativity.

Response: And whenever you remember that a) it is not yours, b) it has nothing to do with you, c) there is nothing you are required to do, it is transformed.
Look at how little you respond emotionally now when someone throws a shoe at you now compared to a few years ago. You have worked miracles.

How is this connected?

Me: Alright. How is this theme connected to my project of getting ready to announce the mindful, hilarious, intense, life-changing Week of Biggification in Asheville?

Response: You will know how to give people structures and space to have their own experience and work through it. Right now what is needed is this:

Me: I cannot wait. I love it when you say shit like that. Tell me what to do!
Response: What’s needed is this:

Continuing to have this conscious relationship with yourself. Resting. Saying no to things. Not responding to things. Rallies and mini-rallies and Rally-like things as a place to practice this. While wearing costumes!

But louder.

Me: So basically … keep doing what I’m doing?

Response: But louder. More intentionally. More transitions. More actively recognizing the ways in which receiving supports you.

Taking care of yourself is a requirement, not something to consider thinking about.

Me: Tell me more about the power of not responding.

Response: People appreciate it when you hold back.

They will recognize that it is respectful of them and their process. They see it as modeling. They are intelligent enough to recognize that this is what you’re doing.

Your work is becoming more and more a meeting of equals. Caretaking and over-responding won’t be appealing, and you’ll encounter fewer people who want it.

Oh.

Me: Really?
Response: This “always-responding” is attractive to you because it was modeled for you your whole life. You were repeatedly taught that the “good” teachers and educators are ones who give of themselves, who put other people’s needs above their own and who are always care-taking.

You were not taught, explicitly or otherwise, that there are better ways to respect people’s sovereignty and to give them space to work things out on their own. If you give your people the techniques, the culture and the containers, and then challenge them to help themselves, they will.

This is all new to you so no need to be so hard on yourself. Of course this concept challenges you. It’s not part of the culture / vocabulary / training you grew up with.

Me: You’re right. I didn’t really get it before.
Response: You’re getting it now, and this is good because this will help the Week of Biggification be even more of a success in the world.

Wait, what?

Me: What do you mean?
Response: The people who come there are going to do big and beautiful things in the world.

They will be part of EVEN BIGGER things than anything you can imagine.

And the reason they will be able to do this is that they will not have you as a crutch.

They will know their own capabilities because you have backed off.

They will trust themselves more. They will BLOSSOM through the experience of being treated as a capable, competent, sovereign being who knows her (or his) own heart.

You will show up with the pirate ship, with the magic, with the zaniness and the process and the tools … and they will have their own miraculous experiences that are not because of you but because of the way your essence and your radiance contribute to spaces in which anything is possible.

Wow.

Me: Wow.
Response: Yes. Wow. This is really big stuff. You have no idea.

Me: So what happens next?
Response: You commit to practicing the art of not responding.

You say: “I am choosing to not have to respond. Because not everything requires a response.” That is your response.

Me: THANK YOU. This is crazy and awesome.
Response: Uh, okay. Glad to be of assistance by repeating back to you the stuff you know already.
Me: *giggles*

And comment zen for today.

This is a tough subject, conceptually and really in every other way too.

It’s something I’m still working through, processing, assimilating, trying to wrap my brain around.

We’re all working on our stuff. It’s a process. We let each other have our own experiences, we don’t give advice (unless someone wants some), and we meet ourselves with love. I adore all of you.

I hope you know that each of my posts here is a response to something. And that I am always responding to your you-ness with appreciation and sweetness, even when I don’t always do it out loud.

A letter. Not really in a bottle. But sort of.

My dear wonderful friend Jane is visiting me this week, and we have been laughing ourselves to tears and exclaiming in astonishment over the many ridiculous things that have happened in our lives.

And we are also remembering our shared memories from a long time ago when we worked together on the kibbutz. When we got to see each other every day instead of every few years.

This has brought up so much sadness for seventeen-year-old-me who is the star of these hard, hard memories. And so much love too.

So I am writing her (that is, me at seventeen) a letter, and imagining/asking for it to be delivered to her, in the most non-invasive way possible, with as many translators and negotiators as necessary.

My love.

Can I just say how beautiful you are?

And how proud I am of your toughness, your resilience, your passion, your creativity.

I appreciate you tremendously.

And I also have to acknowledge the extreme shittiness of this year you’re going through.

Ohmygod! So much hard. It’s beyond absurd, really.

It saddens me to say this part.

There are not very many trustworthy adults in your life right now. Very few indeed. Fewer than you think.

You are going to need to tread carefully here.

They are making promises they cannot keep.

They are saying things they do not mean.

At times what they say is completely untrue. Most of it, actually.

Not out of malice, at least not always. But not trustworthy and not dependable.

Here is who you can trust:

Rena.

She won’t take action to help you but she will not lie to you and her advice is solid.

One more thing about Rena. Before she dies she leaves you a message that is very important. Pay attention to this.

If you don’t make it to the hospital in time, forgive yourself. Please.

Guilt sticks up the works. Guilt is an impediment to flow. It slows your ability to be receptive to the information you’re in the process of receiving.

Take care of yourself.

Avoid people you don’t like spending time with.

Avoid people who criticize you for being the way you are.

You are completely right to be wary of all the people you are wary of. This is wise. Stay alert.

Sleep. Sleep is unbelievably important.

99.9% of the painful and regret-filled things that happen this year occur due to extreme sleep-deprivation.

All these people who say things like “you can sleep when you’re dead” and “you’re young” and “deal with it” …. they could not be more wrong.

It might be right for them. It might not. Who knows. It is clearly not a right way for you and obviously you know this all too well because you’re experiencing it.

Worry less about hurting people’s feelings and more about being able to function.

Take a stand. Sooner and louder. Insist on access to your room. And if you don’t get it, make a big deal out of it.

Let friendships fall apart if they need to.

Right now you are agreeing to this situation of no-sleep because you don’t know how to stand your ground without further jeopardizing two friendships you care about.

This is not friendship.

They will fall apart anyway. If these friendships knit themselves back together later, they’ll come together anyway.

You are a sovereign being. You are not defined by these friendships. And my love, you really, really need to get more sleep in order to be able to function.

Here are some very useful phrases.

“This isn’t working for me.”

“I feel very uncomfortable right now.”

“This needs to change. What are our options?”

Also: If you sense you are in danger, do whatever needs to be done to get out. It is okay to make a scene. Later you will learn other ways. For now, use whatever works.

There is a book.

Next to X’s bed there is a copy of Catch-22. Read it now. It will shed some light on the absurdity of the situation you’re in, and give you enough perspective to get through the next part.

It will remind you that you are not alone.

Many, many people have also found themselves in ridiculous, impossible situations and taken solace in the hilarity of how impossibly wrong it is.

This is why you are friends with Jane. This is partly what you do for each other.

Can I give you one more piece of advice?

Your instincts are so right on.

Everything you’re instinctively doing right now to preserve your emotional well-being: dancing, walking, climbing trees, writing, learning …

It’s all good for you.

Being with your body is good for you. Being alone and having time for yourself is good for you.

People will criticize this isolation because they do not understand it, but you are building cocoons of safety and canopies of peace, and it is exactly what is needed.

And I will tell you the truth.

You are not crazy. You are inspired.

You are not wrong.

You are not alone.

I am with you. So many of us are with you.

You are loved and cared for and supported even when you can’t feel it.

The skills from now will serve you forever. In ten months you will be in the States — though not for long — and you will find Braude and that will make everything different and better in subtle and interesting ways.

Other things will happen. You will find out what you know. You will trust yourself more.

One day you will know that you are the queen of your life, without having to be reminded of it.

In the meantime, remember that you are not alone. And remember that you are loved. And remember to sleep.

And … comment zen for today.

I don’t even know what to say. Interacting with the past is hard. Interacting with now can be really hard too.

We all have our stuff. We’re all working on our stuff. We give each other room to have our own experiences. We don’t give advice (unless someone specifically asks for it).

That’s it! You are more than welcome to write letters to past selves or to wish each other love or to remember things or to not remember things, as you like.

Wishing you comfort and sweetness and good things. Internet kisses all around.

Not so much a performance review as a Performance Revue!

One of the quirks of self-employment:

There aren’t generally procedures in place to stop and acknowledge how hard you work and how much you have done and how much you care.

This came up again yesterday during a chicken with some colleagues.

That sense of come on! I want a promotion! I want a corner office! I want all the ridiculous amounts of work that happens behind the scenes to be admired and noticed!

So of course now I am unable to stop dreaming up unlikely ways that we could do this for ourselves.

Something more fun (and less intimidating) than a “performance review” … and more profound than just having a beer and awarding yourself thousands of sparklepoints, which is what I usually do.

Performance. Of course!

I called upon my favorite superhero (Metaphor Mouse!) to deconstruct “performance review” for me.

Nothing conclusive so far, but some fun and thought-provoking associations. Like cheshbon nefesh, that perfect Hebrew phrase that is, loosely, “soul accounting”.

And the truth is, while I bristle at the thought of anyone “reviewing” my work, performance does sound like fun.

Like my own personal drag show. Like cabaret. Like dancing in the park.

Like the way I am playing at business. And in business. And with business.

I play at business in many ways:

In the daily acts of steering the pirate ship (that proudly flies the Jolly Selma!).

At the Playground, my center, which I have been alternately describing as a glam pirate zen yoga studio or “preschool for adults!”.

When I wear my red sovereignty boots and my giant feather boa.

When the First Mate and I go have Drunk Pirate Council instead of “meetings”.

And when I scramble to find matching socks so I can pass as a grown up when we have to council with our CPA.

So this act of reviewing my performance could be something playful and silly and hilarious too.

The timing, also, is perfect.

I generally do go into contemplative mode towards the end of August.

This week marks five years since I launched this website (not the blog but the site) and The Fluent Self received its name.

Five years!

Not only should I totally get a corner office and an awesome plaque (wait, I already have both of those things), but it is definitely time to have some reviewing.

As long as it’s going to be sweet, deguiltified, appreciative, playful and fun … I’m in!

More of a revue than a review. But here’s how we did it.

I put on my pirate queen costume.

Then me from five years ago this week came and sat in the center of this gigantic pink couch. Which is weird, because the Playground doesn’t have a couch, but I’m just telling you what happened.

She was almost immediately joined by me from five years from now and also me from next week.

And the three of them were all smooshed together in the middle, hugging and exclaiming over each other and giggling. Like at a crazy reunion slumber party.

Then we all put on our lopsided tiaras and raised a toast to the good ship The Fluent Self, Inc. and Five Years Ago Me was astounded that it’s possible to have a corporation and not be gross and evil.

She was extremely relieved. And then Next Week Me was kind of teasing her a little until Five Years From Now Me said, sweetie, you aint seen NOTHING yet.

The four of us decided to appreciate these five years.

We acknowledged the hard (and how freaking impossibly hard the hard has been), and glowed happily over the good.

We named all the qualities that make up the culture of this crazy, silly, playful world that we have brought into being.

And pointed (literally, with these glow-in-the-dark sticks) at everything we appreciate and everything that makes us laugh.

Here’s what we are appreciating most at the moment:

The culture.

The kooky, sweet, funny, loving, warm, non-judgmental, everyone’s-freak-flag-gets-to-fly-just-as-high way of being that sets the tone for every single space in the business.

For example, this blog. It is really, truly the safest, most permission-filled, most respectful place I have ever been on the internet. The commenter mice here are amazing.

There is so much kindness (for me, for themselves, for each other) while still maintaining complete freedom to be sarcastic, cranky, grumpy, silly, obscene, whatever.

The sweetness, the acceptance, the hilarity, the curiously respectful way of relating … this is even more palpable at the Kitchen Table and even more so at live events that we do.

If I were to write a Lonely Planet style guide to my business, there would be a lot of stuff about how awesome the locals are.

The safety.

Safe spaces are a really big deal to me.

So far everything I’ve created has been a form of sanctuary. Literally or figuratively or both. Places to hide. Blanket forts! Invisibility cloaks!

Ways to feel safe being in your you-ness, and bringing more of it into the world.

Ways to take yourself seriously while still having permission to be completely silly and ridiculous.

Ways to process the process without being impressed by the fact that there are stucknesses.

The freedom.

Freedom to flail around and make mistakes and laugh and cry.

Freedom to dress up in costumes and not know what you do for a living and to avoid the things you love.

Freedom to not have to love your monsters and not to have to fight with them either.

Freedom to talk to yourself. And to be a total wackopants. And to sometimes care about things so deeply that it hurts and sometimes not remember what you care about at all.

To be who you are and where you are and how you are. And to have moments when you don’t want to.

Oh, we reviewed so many things.

But the main thing that was fun about revisiting these past five years was the spark of hopefulness.

If my business has gradually given itself the freedom and permission to be more goofy, more playful, more childlike, more wise, more sovereign, more hysterically funny (mostly just to me) …. yay.

And it seems to bode well for the future. Five Years From Now Me totally approves of bringing the silliness.

So my sense is that things are just going to become even more lighthearted and go even more deep.

There will dancing and singing in the streets. There will be worlds unto themselves. There will be chaos and there will be new form. There will be goodbyes and beginnings. There will be trust and faith and wishing.

There will be pirates. There will be pie.

I have seen what is, and it is good. And I have seen what is possible, and it smells like lilacs and wet earth and happy tears. But also like Roller Derby and sailing ships and something equally badass but entirely indescribable.

And … comment zen for today.

Reviewing things is totally hard. I do not mean even slightly to imply that it isn’t.

All this Looking Back involved remembering a lot of pain, a lot of fear, a lot of anxiousness.

Much comforting was involved. And support. And giving myself reminders that even the really crappy stuff has brought good things (and that I’m still allowed to hate it and resent it, if that’s where I’m at with it).

Anyway. Wishing you love for all the things you’re working on. Love and freedom and permission and safety and as much goofiness as feels comfortable.

We all have our stuff. We’re all working on our stuff. And we try to let everyone have their own experience.

Sparklepoints and beer for everyone who would like some. Kisses.

The Fluent Self