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.
The Rally.
When you’re close to someone, you learn all sorts of things about subjects you might not normally be interested in.
My gentleman friend is hugely knowledgeable about yoga because of me.
Thanks to me, he knows how to make really good hummus. Shares my strong opinions on permission marketing. Knows his way around east Berlin.
Thanks to him, I know way more than I ever imagined possible about the history of the west coast, motorcycles and the San Francisco Giants.
I also now know about birds, ukuleles, the Trade Winds, typefaces, why things break and eighteenth century sailing.
It’s all interesting. Mainly because someone I care about finds it interesting. But one thing I really love hearing about is the Rally.
I need to tell you about the Rally.
My gentleman friend is a long-time scooter guy.
(Though right now he mostly rides his motorcycle — a gorgeous 1976 BMW that’s the newest bike he’s ever owned, in case you were wondering).
So even though I don’t ride, I’ve learned all sorts of things about scooter culture.
And my favorite bit is the Scooter Rally. It is a marvelous thing. A thing I need to tell you about.
What happens at a Rally.
A rally is a ride. A group ride.
But it’s so much more than that.
It’s a big, complicated, crazy event. Attended by scooter enthusiasts. And full of madness and hilarity and wonderfulness.
And because I cannot do it justice, I made my gentleman friend answer a bunch of questions.
An Interview with my Gentleman Friend about the thing that is the Rally.
A Rally reinforces the culture.
Me: So the way I understand it, one thing people like about scooter rallies is how they’re an excuse to get together and hang out.
MGF: Right. It’s important that everyone have this thing — riding — in common, but riding isn’t the thing. Or: it ends up not being the most important thing.
I mean, it’s vital that there be a riding component, but there’s way more time talking about riding, thinking about riding, socializing, making contacts, playing goofy games…
Me: And what you get from a ride is …?
MGF: They reinforce the culture.
Once the rally is over, you’ve been immersed in this bath of people who are totally nuts in pretty much the same way that you’re totally nuts.
So when you go back to the world of people who aren’t nuts the way that you are, it’s still with you. You carry with you that glow of approval and camaraderie.
And a patch! Really, I can’t stress enough how important the patches are.
There is much accumulation of swag.
Me: A patch. Got it. And a t-shirt?
MGF: Exactly. Vital.
Also a pint glass. Because drinking reigns supreme. That is actually the most important part of the scooter rally. The drinking.
Which doesn’t seem like it would go with, you know, piloting a vehicle. That’s why the riding is in the morning.
You find your people.
Me: So how long is a rally generally?
MGF: Usually it’s a long weekend. Or just a weekend. Or a day, depending on the club.
Me: And do you know people before you go?
MGF: There’s generally a rally at the same time in the same city every year. It has a name.
So maybe the first time you go you don’t know anyone, so you feel kind of … hesitant, But you’ve probably been reading about it, or connecting online, so you’ll recognize names and faces.
And bikes. If it’s in your town you’ll recognize people’s bikes. It’s a great excuse to talk to people. And once you’ve gone to one, you’ll know a ton of people the next time.
And something happens. Various crazy, wonderful things.
Me: So you go for the ride but really you go for the bigger experience.
MGF: Yeah. I’m really the wrong person to be talking to about this part though, being admittedly an anti-social weirdo.
Me: No, that’s good.
MGF: Well, it’s just that I don’t have as much of a social experience as other people do.
But I just love the rides. It’s such an unlikely, exhilarating experience to be in a crowd of a hundred vintage scooters, just riding. It’s your people. Doing crazy, wonderful shit.
Me: What kinds of crazy, wonderful shit?
MGF: Oh, it’s almost a rule that there be crazy, wonderful shit.
For example, there’s usually some kind of competition, like a rodeo or an obstacle course or some weird, ridiculous, impossible game that you play on scooters but is actually not something anyone could do.
Involving, say, teeter-totters and refrigerator boxes.
And there are lots of awards: farthest traveled, most beautifully restored vintage, crap scooter, and so on.
What makes rallies so Rally-like.
Me: What’s the coolest award?
MGF: Oh, I’d have to say Best in Show.
[Here he pulls out a bunch of back issues of Scoot! Quarterly — he used to be their design person — to show me the Rally Review sections, and starts waxing nostalgic.]
Me: So back to why rallies are so Rally-like. The good stuff.
MGF: They have names. And costumes.
Like the Portland Dirty Clown Run. Mile-High Mayhem. Or the Poke-and-Dragger, a cross-dressing poker run (a traditional motorcycle-ey event that’s sort of like a motorized card game).
Me: What else?
MGF: All kinds of ludicrous games, winning stuff in the ludicrous games, drinking, mayhem, companionship, goofing off, much letting-down-of-hair.
Making new friends, seeing old ones.
Me: It’s fun.
MGF: Uh, yes. That is the whole point, really.
Me: I love it. I want a Rally! I want a Rally!
This is the concept that I have been searching for.
I’ve been aching to do an event that is completely different from the types of events I usually run.
Usually I teach stuff. And we go through wacky, transformative processes together. And there is time for integrating all that good stuff.
It’s an experience. A big, powerful, everything-is-different-now experience. And it’s awesome and I love it.
But I also want a new thing: something that’s not about learning or processing or experiencing. Something that’s about doing. Your own thing. But in community.
Not a retreat. And not a seminar.
A space to show up and get a bunch of stuff done on a project that you’re already working on. Movement!
With panache. And fabulousness. And costumes. And being extremely silly.
A Rally!
So I’m going to arrange a Projectizing Rally.
It doesn’t have a name yet.
But everyone will show up with a project they’re working on, and there will be playing.
And drag names. And costumes. And badges. And pie, of course.
Comment zen for today….
This is a new-ish idea, which means that it’s still a tiny, sweet thing. Which means we need to tread gently with it.
So I’m not ready for all the ways this could go wrong or not work or whatever.
What I would love is excitement! And drag names! And things that we could take from a Rally and apply to other things! RALLY!
EDIT! Also: go ahead and invent drag names for yourself and leave them in the comments. I need some help with the brainstormings. Selma is going as Duckface a l’Orange. Probably.
Very Personal Ads #54: Car 54, where are you?
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’s do it.
Thing 1: Progress, baby.
Here’s what I want:
I have crazy work to do right now.
And some projects that need serious attention.
Ways this could work:
I have no idea but it kind of has to.
Possibilities:
- I will use The Game That Still Has No Name
- Or I could write about the Rally and how I want one
- Lots of Shiva Nata for unexpected and unlikely epiphanies
- It could stop being so damn hot for five minutes
- Surprise me.
My commitment.
To watch and wait and hope and stay connected to myself.
To ask smart questions.
To go back to bed when necessary.
Thing 2: Resolution to a sovereignty issue.
Here’s what I want:
This is a situation that demands from me a gracious, loving, sovereign response.
It is apparently time to step up and claim what is mine and be in my me-ness and my queen-ness.
It is also a somewhat challenging and slightly sticky situation.
And I need a way to be generous and supportive on the one hand, and firm and clear on the other.
Whatever action I end up taking needs to be very grounded, and also full of warmth. And, ideally, it is the perfect-for-everyone-involved solution.
Ways this could work:
Wow. No idea.
But it kind of has to.
I can do Dance of Shiva on it. I can take dictation while conversing with my various monsters.
I can book some sessions with Hiro, who knows all sorts of wise things about being sovereign, and who can work some pretty serious miracles.
I can ask for a perfect, simple solution.
My commitment.
To be receptive to the possibility that there are many ways in which this can be resolved, without having to Take A Stand.
To be willing to Take A Stand, should said stand need to be taken.
To meet everyone involved (including myself) with as much compassion and patience as I can muster.
To throw a tiny temper tantrum by myself, if necessary and as often as necessary.
To celebrate with berries when this thing is over.
Thing 3: For time to be on my side.
Here’s what I want:
There are several lovely projects treasure hunt missions that are wanting my attention this week.
I need things to kind of magically work out.
And the getting done part needs to coincide with the not going completely stark raving mad part.
Ways this could work:
One mission per day.
Designated time.
Rituals in. Rituals out.
Asking for help. Using the Deguiltified Chicken Board at the Kitchen Table.
Taking notes.
Breathing.
My commitment.
To notice what I need.
To remember to rest.
To dance up a storm. To take long walks.
To be in the zone when it’s there and to turn off when it is time for turning off.
To get better at trusting.
Progress report on past Very Personal Ads.
Just to update you on what’s happened since last time.
I asked for a word that was not Sabbatical and found it (Skabbatical!). And to get better at believing in the possibility of such a thing.
Huge progress. I spent two hours transcribing monster conversations as they happened in my head. And here’s what happened:
- None of those conversations were even slightly what I expected.
- I’ve resolved some Enormous Stucknesses: I’m okay with Skabbatical, I’m looking forward to working on my book, and if I can raise the money, I’m going to do a really nice Skabbatical, even if it takes me a while to plan it.
- My monsters are totally on my side. And way more than before. They weren’t even that mean. Or maybe: it’s the sovereignty thing. Maybe the stuff they say is just as harsh, but I’m not taking it as seriously.
- Knowing what you’re scared of makes it so easy to avoid it, plan for it, reframe it, change it. The monsters’ power is What-iffery. Get the information and they have no fear-hold on you.
- I kind of want to go on Monster Skabbatical, and just talk to monsters all day. Because it’s — weirdly — kind of fun. And it’s like Carolyn sessions: menapetzet all of my stucknesses. Yay!
And I wanted ease of integration back from Official Pirate Queen Holiday and that mostly happened. Well, what happened was that I didn’t get any work done. But yeah, transitions.
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”.
- Shoulds. As in, “You should be doing it like this” or “That’s not the right way to ask for things — instead it should be like x, y and z”
- 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 #101: things to do on a rainy day
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.
Yeah.
A hundred and one.
Now nothing to get excited about until two hundred, says Eeyore.
The hard stuff
Back to work. Again!
I know, I know.
It’s part of life. Blah.
But growth periods suck. And so does recovery time.
Even though my Official Pirate Queen Holiday Vacation was supposed to be restful (and it mostly was), I’d also set an intention to learn about my relationship to biggification.
And so I had all sorts of huge understandings and big crazy epiphanies.
So I came back kind of exhausted.
And despite the enormous piles of doom waiting for me, I couldn’t get out of recovery mode. Lots of sleeping. Lots of bleary-eyed confusion.
Lots of waiting. Frustrating. Normal, but frustrating.
You know when you miss someone and then they’re everywhere?
And all it takes is a hint of Desmond Dekker in a cafe in Seattle and … you start to doubt things.
My favorite pair of pants died a horrible death.
Totally unfair.
Almost having seventeen thousand heart attacks because of World Cup.
Seriously, that stuff is not good for my health.
Stress plus pain. Not good. I have grey hair now.
But of course I also am incapable of stopping. Oh, the roller coaster.
I was super sad when Ghana lost to Uruguay. I’ve been rooting for Ghana the whole time.*
Even against Germany. And I never root against Germany. Except in basketball. And world wars.
Anyway. Gah. Way too much stressful. I can definitely wait another four years to practice breathing some more.
* Except when they played the States, but that’s really only because what the hell, I live here now.
Kyeli is having surgery.
Big scary surgery. Please send her loving wishes for ease and comfort and a speedy recovery.
The good stuff
Insane amounts of writing.
Twenty one pages of monster conversations. Unbelievable.
It was way less stressful than I’d been imagining (which is why I’d been avoiding them).
And they were full of unexpectedness. Usually it’s the same old yeah yeah you’re trying to protect me by being cruel and horrible blah blah.
This time they gave me all sorts of useful new information. Feeling really glad that I asked.
Feather boas!
The other day, I said something about how now all I need is a feather boa.
Well.
Two of my lovely, lovely blog readers (thank you so much, Danielle and Mariko!) each had the idea of getting me a feather boa.
So now I have two.
Which is awesome.
And now I’m wondering if I should get in the habit of saying “now all I need is …”, just to see if whatever it is ends up in my mailbox.
I am the luckiest lady alive. Also, yay blogging. Who knew? If they’d told me there would be feather boas in it for me, I would have started years earlier.
Now all I need is …
Pickles.
First I had the best (and largest) pickle of my entire life while on the tail end of Pirate Queen Holiday Vacation.
And then my gentleman friend gave me his pickle while we were out at dinner. Possibly only to avoid an argument but still. I took it.
I saw Alice in Wonderland.
And loved it.
I wasn’t expecting to, after the especially depressing New Yorker review.
But wow.
It’s weird how I don’t think of Tim Burton as someone who shares my message, but there he was, speaking my mind in color.
- That a little madness is not only okay, it’s vital.
- That even within extremely confined, predetermined situations, you own your life, which means you get to make decisions for yourself.
- That you don’t have to know how to do what is needed — it’s enough to claim your powers (or hold the sword) and the rest will happen.
A considerably more thought-provoking film than I had anticipated. Though probably more so if you’re obsessing over sovereignty and its applications. I’m so glad to have seen it.
Good things I read this week.
This wonderful bit from Fi about the Stuff-Lover’s lament.
Spam comment of the week! We look flippant to your order.
I can’t even tell you how much I loved this.
Ladies and Gentlemen!
We are a European coterie and we offer services translational within 16 languages and all fields.Our translators decode only into their indigenous language. You can ask for an guess of the rewrite of the text.
If the bonus corresponds to you, choose substantiate your uniformity and choice directly experience a finished translation.
We look flippant to your order
Frankly,
[Spammy Spammerson]
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?
Oar Or Ore
Though I believe they sometimes add a question mark to it, so it’s more like Oar Or Ore?
Anyway. They originally started out as an a capella group made up of former Navy Seals. But last I heard, it’s just one guy.
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.
The thing that happens when you make space for something to happen.
Last summer I spent a week at Jennifer Louden’s writer’s retreat in Taos, New Mexico.
I was there in a teaching capacity — destuckification techniques, Shiva Nata brain training and absurdly relaxing Old Turkish Lady yoga.
So I wasn’t planning on getting any results. You know, in relation to me and writing. I was there to teach.
Hahahahahahaha.
I’ve been looking over my notes. Looking at just how much I was wrong about, as well as what I learned. Because I wasn’t expecting any of it.
Some of the stuff I was wrong about.
I thought everyone else would be Capital-W Writers.
You know, people with published novels and books of poetry.
Fiction writers. Or self-help experts like Jen, who has been on Oprah and is sparkly and does fabulous famous things.
Not at all.
It was a delightfully eclectic mix of everything and anything.
There were published writers. But there were also casual journal-ers and scribblers and secret closet writers.
There were bloggers. And people who were there to work on their website copy as a writing project.
There were playwrights. There were people who don’t at all think of themselves as writers but really wanted to have time to themselves to be creative and discover things.
I was home.
I thought everyone else would be there for more or less the same thing.
You know, to get some writing done in a loving, supportive guilt-free environment.
But there were people there for the safety of retreating: sanctuary!
And people who came because they’ve been returning for eight years in a row and they know it’s an experience that will be both transformative and comforting.
And people who came because something inexplicable pulled them and there they were.
I thought I wouldn’t be able to connect to people.
Honestly, I was so relieved that I was there to teach because otherwise I might have to deal with the scary of oh god what if these are not my people.
The achingly familiar outsider complex again.
But the people who come to spend time with Jen are amazing. Every single one of them.
There was warmth and brightness. There was love and connection. It was fun. And intense. And beautiful. I was wrong.
Some of the things I experienced.
I am a writer.
This was the place where my eternal doubt left me for good.
I’d kind of thought that being tortured about my writing identity was such an intrinsic part of who I am that this would never stop being my big issue.
But I got over it. Yeah, I write. And yeah, it has meaning. And no matter where I go with it, I can claim this word for myself.
I can claim this practice for myself.
I do not need to be in isolation.
Part of my thing about everything is that I have to do everything myself.
It’s really, really challenging for me to even remember that this isn’t always true.
Being in such an easy, loving group brought me back to that thing that is connection and community.
And I still had time for myself.
And somehow, everyone there got what they wanted and needed. I’m not sure how that happened but it was awesome.
Change your place, change your luck.
Really, the importance of setting cannot be underestimated.
Put yourself somewhere beautiful, where great writers have done great writing, with context and love and permission, add some shivanautical epiphanies and the most extraordinary things happen.
The thing that happens when you make space for something to happen.
You have no idea what it’s going to be.
That’s part of the scary and the fun.
But it’s important.
Because those are the changes that stick with you.
Everything I’ve done in this past year — every product and program I’ve created, everything I’ve written, everything I’ve experienced, has been influenced in some important way by that week in Taos.
And when Jen asked me to come back and teach again this year, I said yes partly because it was so much fun.
But I mainly said yes because I can’t wait to see what happens in the year to come, after going through this experience again.
Because it’s the kind of doorway that if you have the chance to step through, you kind of have to.
Things I want to say today, specifically.
Through an unlucky (for someone else) happenstance, there are two seats unexpectedly available.
If you are a woman and you sometimes write or even sometimes think about writing and putting words together, and there is any way you can make it, I cannot recommend this highly enough.
And there is zero pressure. And you don’t share your writing. Just full-on creative flow in an outrageously gorgeous, magical setting.
You could skip everything but the labyrinth, the food, the sunsets and getting private coaching and crazy personal attention from Jen and it would still be the best week of this decade.
Here’s the link (I hope there’s still room) for Jen’s Luscious, Nurturing Get Your Writing Done While Laughing Your Butt Off and Maybe Crying a Little Too Writer’s Retreat.
That’s it. And of course I’ll come back and share some of my epiphanies and wonderings from whatever notes I take while I’m there.
And.
If this is not the time or the place or the right whatever, I know that you will find those things that need space made for them. And space will get made.
It’s frustrating when you don’t know how or when that will happen. It just sucks. So I just wanted to give reassurance and comfort with that.
I don’t know how or when either. Just that experience tells me these spaces show up eventually. I hope yours come in good timing.
Talking to a Huge Scary Monster.
The topic? The possibility of going on Skabbatical — my own private version of a sabbatical-that-is-awesome. For three months.*
* Reassurances! 1) It won’t be happening for a while. 2) I won’t be skabbatical-ing from the blog or anything I’m currently teaching. 3) Selma and I will still be here. Promise.
Something I really wish for, but my monsters have massive, crazy issues with.
They were being all loud and sabotage-ey, so it was time to sit the biggest one down and have a conversation about why this is such a terrible, impossible idea.
The advocate shows up.
It felt too intense, so I asked for a Negotiator to mediate for me.
And then — weirdly, Writer Me (a tiny, only somewhat malicious giggling fairy with spectacles and strong opinions) showed up and volunteered her services.
Actually she said, “I will be your advocate.”
Which was funny, since the purpose of the Skabbatical (To The Skabatmobile!) is a writing project. So she’s kind of advocating for herself.
And so it began.
Writer Me: Bring it on. What’s not good about this sabbatical thing?
Huge Scary Monster: It’s bullshit. It’s a big, fat pipe dream is what it is. A stupid waste of your stupid time even thinking about it. It’s never going to happen anyway. And you know what? Even if it did, it wouldn’t be good for you.
Writer Me: Mmmm. Interesting. Sorry, about the “wouldn’t be good for you” part. Is that me-me or Havi you’re talking about?
Huge Scary Monster: (Shrugs.) It’s anyone who is on her side.
Writer Me: Got it. So you believe sabbatical is not the healthy thing to want. Is that right?
Huge Scary Monster: Yeah. But only because it’s true.
Writer Me: I’m not going to argue with you. I’m just curious. What about it is bad for us? Are there specific aspects that are harmful?
Huge Scary Monster: Obviously! For one thing, it’s a stupid pipe dream, like I said. Do you want to spend your whole life bitter and disappointed, everyone but you knowing that your dream is a fraud and a sham … totally achievable to anyone but you? Because of your own imaginary prison walls that only you can see?!
But actually my monster is my advocate.
Writer Me: Wow. I mean, wow.
Huge Scary Monster: I know!
Writer Me: So let me get this straight. You feel upset when you think about Havi being disappointed and not getting what she wants.
Huge Scary Monster: Uh huh.
Writer Me: And you feel … anxious? Fearful? You worry that people might feel sorry for her. And this is because you care about her. Is that right?
Huge Scary Monster: Yes. And also I don’t think she should waste her time and energy on things that don’t get her anywhere.
Writer Me: (unsure) Because you want her to be successful?
Huge Scary Monster: Obviously!
Writer Me: Whoah. That’s kind of neat. And crazy. Because you know something? Havi thinks you are against her. Like, really against her.
Huge Scary Monster: That’s good. She should keep thinking that if it keeps her from trying to have a sabbatical. She doesn’t need to know my opinions.
Writer Me: But secretly you’re for her, not against her.
Huge Scary Monster: Well, yeah. That’s why I’m her monster and not someone else’s.
And things start to get weird.
Writer Me: Fascinating! Alright. I’m sorry to keep asking questions, but this is all new to me. Would you say that your purpose is to keep Havi from taking a sabbatical — actually going on one? Or is it to keep her from thinking about one and wanting one?
Note: this part is completely insane.
I don’t know how to say this, but the Huge Scary Monster actually split in two.
Like a cartoon version of a science class mitosis film strip: explaining cell division by acting it out.
It split into two, and then formed back together, looking extremely self-satisfied.
As if to say: I can fill BOTH of these roles if necessary. It was wild.
Clarifying and more clarifying.
Writer Me: Huh. Okay. So one bit at a time, I guess. What’s wrong with Havi wanting a sabbatical?
Huge Scary Monster: I told you already. She’ll just be disappointed. That’s not a good use of her time. She can’t get stuff done if she’s wanting stuff she can’t have.
Writer Me: Got it. Thanks for clarifying. And what’s the problem (problems?) with Havi actually having a sabbatical?
Huge Scary Monster: [explodes and starts shouting a million things at once] Impossible! IMPOSSIBLE! It doesn’t exist. That’s like asking, “what if she actually takes a vacation to Atlantis?!” It can’t happen!
Writer Me: It can’t?
Huge Scary Monster: NO! And anyway, whatever pale imitation she might come up with would just be a waste of time.
I’m just wondering …
Writer Me: You seem really passionate and um, emphatic about this.
Huge Scary Monster: Well, yeah. Someone has to protect her from more hurt and disappointment.
Writer Me: Too true, too true. You’re right about that. So here’s a question. I’m just wondering. If you’re right (which of course I’m sure you are) about the sabbatical thing being a mythical, unattainable impossibility, why are you getting so worked up about why she shouldn’t attempt it? I mean, if it’s impossible anyway …
Huge Scary Monster: Because she’ll try. And that will be a tragedy.
Writer Me: I’m sure it will, honey. And I apologize for being dense, but can you help me understand where you’re coming from? What is, exactly, the tragedy that we’re trying to prevent?
Huge Scary Monster: I can’t tell you.
Writer Me: Alright. That’s okay. Pauses. Do you know what it is?
Huge Scary Monster: (indignant) Yes.
Preventing the tragedy.
Writer Me: Mmm. How can I be on your team and help prevent a tragedy if I don’t know what I need to look out for? Can you give me a little information? What happens if Havi actually goes on sabbatical?
Huge Scary Monster: She’ll discover.
Writer Me: What will she discover?
Huge Scary Monster: That it’s meaningless.
Writer Me: Tell me more.
Huge Scary Monster: Look, there isn’t anything special about sabbatical. It’s not the unicorn she’s making it out to be. She’ll feel really distraught to realize that her dream is meaningless, that she put something so stupid on this giant pedestal.
The impasse.
Writer Me: And if you’re right, is it possible that it could be good for her to learn this?
Huge Scary Monster: Havi has had enough dreams smashed in her life. Let’s not take this one from her too. You’re supposed to be on her side.
Writer Me: Okay, I’m going to let the lack of logic slide, because you strike me as really sincere.
Huge Scary Monster: I am.
Writer Me: So we’re at an impasse?
Huge Scary Monster: You’re the writer.
Writer Me: So I am. Am I to write a better ending?
Huge Scary Monster: That’s why you volunteered, no?
The ending.
Writer Me: You’re pretty wise for a monster.
Huge Scary Monster: Set me free. You can set me free.
Writer Me: By looking at you.
Huge Scary Monster: I will show you my essence and you will set me free.
Writer Me: I’ve never been flashed by a monster before. First time for everything, I guess.
Huge Scary Monster: But you will set me free?
Writer Me: What’s in it for Havi?
Huge Scary Monster: My freedom is her freedom.
Writer Me: Show me.
And what happened then.
The monster tugs at his heart.
Before this, he was kind of a big amorphous smoky blog. But now he looks like one of the sweet coloring book monsters. And he takes the little heart-shaped pin (it’s red enamel and surprisingly soft), and hands it to Writer Me.
Huge Scary Monster: Read it.
Writer Me grasps the heart and she folds it into her hand until the heart is completely swallowed up beneath her fingers. Closes her eyes. Intent concentration. When she speaks, it’s very slowly and her words come from somewhere that is not here.
And the part about the essence.
Writer Me: Your essence is protection.
Huge Scary Monster: Yes.
Writer Me: Your truth is that we all have the ability to delude ourselves, to get tangled up in dreams, to burrow pathways to disappointment.
Huge Scary Monster: Yes.
Writer Me: But you also know that there is incredible power in wanting a thing, and taking steps to make it happen.
Huge Scary Monster: Yes.
Writer Me: And the key to this whole thing is being present with what you want and need.
Huge Scary Monster: Yes.
Writer Me: Because then your focus is on your conscious relationship to desire, and not on the object of desire itself.
Huge Scary Monster: Yes.
Writer Me: And what you want and need can then change and grow without fear, and you can never lose yourself.
Huge Scary Monster: I am free now. Thank you.
The door is open.
Writer Me: So Havi can go on her Skabbatical?
But the monster is gone. The door is open.
I turn to Writer Me and ask, what now?
Writer Me: What now, nothing. You know this stuff. It’s what you teach. Go journal it up about your Skabbatical so you can learn more about it.
Comment zen for today.
Talking to monsters is hard.
We all have our stuff. We’re all working on our stuff. We’re here to support each other. And part of how we let people have their own experience is by not giving advice — unless someone specifically asks for it.
I’m not sharing this (incredibly personal) thing in order to be told what to do with it. I’m sharing it in the hope that someone else gets a glimpse of something useful. Kisses to all the commenter mice, the Beloved Lurkers and everyone who reads.