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 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.
The Pirate Queen Vacationing Notebook: part II
So I was on Official Non-Emergency Pirate Queen Holiday last week.
And shared some of my journalings from the Official Pirate Queen Vacation Spiral Notebook.
Today: more bits of potential usefulness — related to my business (running the pirate ship), but definitely stuff you can apply to non-business-related stuff too.
It’s pretty unedited and unfiltered, so I hope it makes sense. Also some most of it might be kind of weird.
What am I wrong about?
Okay, so moments of deep spiritual understanding tend to be about how we know nothing. That we are wrong about everything.
That everything we have thought and believed up until this moment is false.
Or not necessarily false, but incomplete.
Viewed through the wrong filter. The wrong color lens. We have misinterpreted. Everything.
It’s that shivanautical moment* when the matrix comes apart. Everything is reduced to its pieces and then the pieces become the new form. Yay, Socrates, etc.
* The point of understanding. All disagreements reveal themselves to be misunderstandings. You realize that everything is connected. And you can’t even put words to any of this because these realizations aren’t meant to be heard with your ears.
Where am I going with this?
So.
What if we took this as the standard hypothesis when working on anything stuckified? What if this became the automatic starting point?
Assuming that everything I know is false ….
Assuming that, for example, the idea that I have to work all the time is false …
Assuming that the way I’m going about things isn’t necessarily helpful …
If we change the filter, the lens, the approach, the reflections … what do I get?
What am I wrong about?
Starting here. Assume Tim is (possibly accidentally) right, and I could get by on only four hours of work a week.
What would that look like?
I don’t know. Okay, pretend it had to happen and I have no choice. What goes? What has to move?
1) We turn down everything.
Seriously. Everything.
And I get a blank permission slip to say a firm, gracious no to anything that comes my way.
2) The journal feeds the blog.
Instead of writing posts, I turn my journaling into posts. Which is something that happens occasionally anyway.
So the good and the hard turn into Chickens. The wishes become Very Personal Ads. Challenges become Inowanna Iguanas and the word-play turns into Metaphor Mouse adventures.
Daily writing does double duty, and we skip the Occasional Posts of How-to-ishness for a while.
3) Cut down project, products and programs to the essentials.
This will require considerable help from Cairene.
Many things will need to change shape. And a lot of work will need to be done in advance.
But it’s not impossible.
And is actually kind of a useful thing to do.
Deconstruction for new creation. Patterns into pieces.
If we have a year to plan, it’s do-able. Maybe even six months.
4) Change your presence
More essence of you and less actual you.
Teach by modeling what you do instead of explaining what you do.
Be a super secret spy. But let everyone in on what being a super secret spy actually means.
And what does four hours even look like?
I have no idea. So let’s try to break it down.
If Monday through Thursday each included sixty minutes of Patchworking (the Game that is still waiting on the right name), could that work? What if there were one day of work?
But it wasn’t called “work”?
Because what I really care about is rest and play. And the creation that happens when they meet up.
Hmmm. I’d have to document it.
I see some possible starting points, though.
Again, if I’m wrong about everything, what is true?
My immediate presence is not as vital as I think it is. Not even slightly.
But my essence is more vital than I think it is.
This is the unexpected truth about invisibility.
The machine runs without you but it runs because of you.
What needs to be visible: personal experience. What can remain invisible: the mechanics.
And sometimes this is reversed.
What do I know?
Everything I’ve cut out of my life so far has only made my world better.
Like dumping the Dreaded Noozletter. And giving up on email. Like letting most of my staff go. Like replacing “meetings” with Drunk Pirate Council.
So. What’s next?
Interesting how much that question both excites and terrifies me.
Alright. Here’s what I’m not cutting out.
The blog. I love having this space to write and interact and mess around.
It’s my own personal playground.
Right. The Playground. That stays too. I love having a creative space to teach in.
And the Kitchen Table. It really, truly is the best thing ever.
Also my extremely exclusive, mostly secret Mindful Biggification program. Because the stuff that happens there is extraordinary.
So if the elements remain, what needs to change is how they all fit together.
And that’s what I need Shiva Nata for: to take apart the matrix so that I can see what the possibilities are.
To get down to the elements again.
And here’s what I know so far about what I don’t want:
I don’t want groups of certified Fluent Self coaches — an army of little Havi-clones. Absolutely not.
But I would like other people teaching my techniques.
I don’t want to run communities. But I want to infuse them with goodness and hilarity. I want to participate in them. And to establish a culture of warmth and kookiness.
I don’t want to be the shepherd. But I want to dance the patterns.
I don’t want to be the boundaries. But I want to be a force who inspires their existence.
I don’t want to be the door. But I want all doors to open when I pass through.
Here’s what I’m currently finding challenging.
Not having anyone to emulate.
At most points in the life of my business, I’ve had someone else’s model as a guide.
Even if not an exact one. A general direction.
Like, “I want to build something sort of like so-and-so’s thing but more X and less Y.”
And now there isn’t anyone who fits that description.
The only ship I have to follow is my own.
That’s it for now.
Well, I have more notes but they make even less sense that what’s already here. I know.
But maybe some of these will trigger something useful/interesting for you.
And maybe the hopefulness of possibility will feel liberating rather than terrifying, though god knows sometimes those things go together.
And comment zen for today.
We all have our stuff. We’re all working on our stuff. We let everyone have their own process and we don’t give each other advice (unless someone asks for it).
If any part of my processing-my-own-stuff accidentally stepped on your stuff, I sincerely apologize. That sucks. And it wasn’t my intention.
You’re absolutely welcome to share things you’re working on or currently figuring out (does not even slightly have to be related to the stuff I’m working on) or whatever else is coming up for you.
Hugs for the hard. And excitement for everyone’s projects and dreams.
Metaphor Mouse goes on Skabbatical!
Background: the metaphor technique is something I’ve adapted from Suzette Haden Elgin‘s teachings. It’s an amazing tool for destuckifying.
It’s also how I discovered that I work on a pirate ship and defeated the hackers. And cured my fear of being beautiful.
More recently we turned my dreaded Tickler file into an Iguana Watcher’s Guide And doing taxes happens in a Secret Money Cave where I visit my treasures and make Tribute to the lands that allow me access to their fair harbours.
Metaphor Mouse to the rescue!
Unpacking the metaphor. Here’s the situation.
I really want a sabbatical. As became clear on Official Pirate Queen Holiday last week.*
* Reassurances! Not a sabbatical from blogging! I’ll still be here, no matter what else happens. Okay?
But I have big issues with the word. So it has to be called something else.
Actually, I’ve kind of already decided that I’m going to call it my Skabbatical.
Because that’s hilarious. To me. And because it automatically comes with its own (extremely excellent) soundtrack.
Still, I could use some help rewriting my screwed-up personal associations with the word “sabbatical” — in order to discover something more appealing.
Not to mention something that might actually happen.
To the Skabbatmobile, Metaphor Mouse! And let us all sing … I am Metaphor Mouse!
Unpacking my CURRENT relationship with this.
(SABBATICAL = ?)
What are the qualities, aspects and attributes of the thing that isn’t working (including what *is* working — if anything)?
[+ pipe dream]
[+ unrealistic]
[+ imaginary]
[+ never going to happen]
[+ exists only in the future and in fantasy]
[+ unfulfilling]
[+ distant]
[+ relaxing]
[+ desired]
[+ impossible]
[+ unachievable]
[+ out of reach]
[+ productive]
[+ something you have to earn]
[+ carrot and stick — except that you never reach the carrot]
[+ irony]
[+ pleasurable]
[+ happy fantasy]
[+ fun to plan]
[+ expectations]
[+ hopeful]
[+ possibly also disappointing]
Reminds me of?
Well, in a way it’s like Disneyland. Or an amusement park.
The way you build it up when you’re a kid, only to discover that it’s hot and sticky and full of annoyances.
Like summer vacation or recess.
You yearn for something but it’s the yearning that is more fulfilling than the thing.
So maybe it’s like being in prison and having elaborate fantasies about escape.
Yes, there is definitely some aspect of imprisonment to it (again, for me).
You know what? It’s like imagining winning the lottery and then not buying a ticket.
Learning more about my IDEAL metaphor (X = ?)
What sort of qualities, aspects and feelings does the thing I want contain?
[+ achievable]
[+ do-able]
[+ structure]
[+ planning]
[+ fun]
[+ surprising]
[+ flow]
[+ results]
[+ process]
[+ transformation]
[+ expectations]
[+ hopeful and joyful]
[+ relaxing]
[+ trust]
[+ creativity]
[+ in a state of creative making-stuff-happen]
[+ yoga and Shiva Nata]
[+ play!]
Reminds me of?
It’s like planning a vacation.
But actually planning it. Not sitting around and saying, “Oh, wouldn’t it be lovely to go to Turkey again” and then not doing anything about it.
Back to the lottery thing … I don’t have a lottery fantasy because I a) have a functioning, profitable business, and b) recognize the variety of different ways that financial goodness can come into my life.
In other words: there is an awareness of options. And the fact that I have them.
Which is, in a sense, exactly how I’d like to feel about time. And that’s what we’re talking about here, really. My relationship with time.
Having that sense of PLENTIFULNESS and SPACIOUSNESS in relation to time.
So it’s about Very Interior Design, related to a clearly defined project.
Huh. Is it like … adding another income stream but with time?!
No. It’s more than that. It’s like inventing a holiday. Both in the sense of vacation, and in the sense of holy day and in the sense of a big crazy party.
What do you think, Metaphor Mouse? Are we at metaphor?
Here’s what I know about going on Skabbatical.
It’s for me! Not for anybody else.
Which means it gets to be infused with me-ness.
It has to be fun. And silly.
And have costumes, of course.
It has to have clear starting and ending dates, entry and exit points. Rituals.
It has to be an adventure. It has to have a starting here and ending there. In a way it’s a journey, though that word is also really too loaded for me.
A progression, let’s call it. A progression that’s also a pirate adventure. A sailing.
Are we comfortable with this one?
It needs work.
But you know what? I’m feeling a lot better about the “hey, this could actually maybe happen” part.
So I’m calling it good for now.
What needs to happen next?
I want possible dates. And possible plans.
With a giant permission slip to come up with whatever ideas I come up with, and not to have to trounce them.
Even if most (or all) of them turn out to be ridiculous and untenable.
I need some negotiators to show up and help me have conversations with my monsters.
And I totally need a Skabbatical t-shirt from my designer.
Would you like to play? Comment zen for today.
You are more than welcome to think out loud about stuff you’re working on, related or not related.
Or to celebrate with me and/or come up with Skabbatical lyrics (because it is also a ska band).
As always: we let people have their own experience, and we don’t give advice (unless someone specifically asks for it).
To the Skabbatmobile!
Very Personal Ads #53: to the Sabbatmobile!
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: To find another word that’s kind of like “sabbatical” but not.
Here’s what I want:
I have a big wish related to planning a sabbatical.
But I can’t call it that, because that particular word is extremely loaded for me.
And also because my personal definition for that particular word includes “sabbatical = something that will never actually happen” as one of its primary components.
So. What do you call a period of three months or more that involves the following?
- extremely restricted internet access
- lots of writing, on a specific project
- plenty of time to nap, do yoga and Shiva Nata, and take walks in the rain.
I do not know. But it needs a name.
Ways this could work:
Obviously this needs some help from Metaphor Mouse. Metaphor Mouse!
Which is cool, because I actually dreamed about him Tuesday night.
Maybe some of my commenter mice will have Useful Suggestions too.
Or maybe I’ll put out an ask at the Twitter bar.
My commitment.
To brainstorm and namestorm. To dance until it shows up.
To be playful. To not agree to any name that isn’t fun.
And I will restrict myself to making Sabbatmobile jokes only when absolutely necessary.
Thing 2: To believe in the thing-that-is-not-a-sabbatical.
Here’s what I want:
I spent most of this past week thinking this through, figuring out which pieces would have to be moved where.
And how long it would take to plan in advance (probably a year).
But I believe it would be crazy good for me. Now I just have to believe that it’s possible.
What I know about what I need:
I need the conditions that put me in flow (quiet + movement + Shiva Nata + walking + sleep + meditation + water + uninterrupted time).
What this can’t be:
It can’t be a situation where I’m going into it because of burnout or poor health. It can’t be a situation where I’m retreating because I don’t like where I am.
It has to be a conscious choice, moving from the thing that is good to the next piece of good.
Ways this could work:
There are all sorts of ways this could work.
I just don’t know what they are yet.
But I’m willing for them to show up.
My commitment.
To pay attention and notice stuff.
To write down whatever objections my monsters (and uh, other loved ones) come up with, and not be impressed.
To come up with creative, unexpected solutions to said supposed objections, internal and external.
To ask interesting questions.
Thing 3: Ease of integration back from Pirate Queen Holiday.
Here’s what I want:
Today I’m coming back from my (mostly) delightful Official Non-Emergency Pirate Queen Holiday Vacation.
And there are stacks of things waiting for me.
My wish:
May this week be full of ease, efficiency, effortlessness and support.
Ways this could work:
Maybe there isn’t as much as I’m imagining there is.
My brilliant First Mate can probably take care of most of it.
I can surprise myself.
My commitment.
To be open to the possibility of things not completely sucking.
To ask for help when I need it.
Slow and steady.
Take it to a cafe when things get angsty.
Get Hiro magic for extra help.
Progress report on past Very Personal Ads.
Just to update you on what’s happened since last time.
Let’s see. I asked for help with my glamorous secret spy mission. That worked pretty well.
I wore lots of eye make-up, which is very not me. And sunglasses. And heels. And avoided people. It was good.
Ooh. I also wanted to get a lot of non-work-related writing done, and that definitely happened. More than I’d bargained for, actually.
And I wanted a peaceful solution to a challenging, annoying situation. No idea if anything happened there as I haven’t been online.
So I’ll renew that ask, just in case.
The good part is that I haven’t really been thinking about it, which is already kind of a win, you know?
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.