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.
Ten myths of biggification
So yes. While I do talk a lot about biggification, the whole thing started as a joke.
When I launched this site nearly five years ago, I read piles of business advice, only to start really losing patience.
The neverending litany of think big think big just felt so … stressful. And pushy.
Referring to all the people who wanted me to get bigger already as “the Biggifiers” was a way to take the piss out of things a little.
And also partially inspired by that hilariously great line from The Simpsons about how “a noble spirit embiggens the smallest man.”
The problem? Biggification = intimidating.
Both the experience and the word can be so stressful.
And as soon as you focus on what might happen if you start to biggify, all that repressed (or not-very-repressed) fear of success kicks in like crazy. Not fun.
That’s why we’re looking at our monsters‘ myths about why biggification is bad.
So we can focus on growth that’s more organic and less terrifying, which I call mindful biggification:
The art and science of getting your thing into the hands of your right people without feeling icky or weird about it.
“If I start biggifying …”
1. “I have to learn how to … X, Y, Z”
And, of course, X, Y and Z are always things that are completely depressing and paralyzing.
“I’ll have to care about stuff like search engine optimization! I’ll have to promote myself! I’ll have to learn how to eat worms! Ew ew ew!”
You won’t, sweetie. Not unless you want to.
I have chosen not to care about any of those things and it works for me.
The amount of information/skills you need to acquire to biggify your thing is actually minuscule — especially compared to the mountains of research your monsters think you need to be doing.
They’re wrong. Ninety-nine percent of the biggification learning curve is internal. Like learning how to talk to your monsters. And how to not be impressed by the fact that you’re human and you have stuff.
(Caveat: sometimes you will need to find someone who can do tech stuff or explain things to you, but that’s a much tinier part of biggifying than you’re imagining it will be).
2. “I’ll have to become someone I’m not.”
“And then I’ll curl up in a ball and die!”
Actually, most people are busy trying to be other people. Which means that by not doing that, you already have a huge advantage in the integrity department.
Not to mention the Relatable and Fabulous Department, which is a very useful department to excel in.
3. “I need to be more like Havi and less like me.”
“I’ll have to write a million posts a week and say inappropriate things on Twitter and ohmygod I can’t do this.”
It would be the height of silliness (as well as poor business sense) to try and exactly imitate anything that I do, especially if you’re going to turn it into a guilt thing.
Giving yourself permission to do things your way is the best piece of advice I can give.
The other one is “try stuff”. Because that’s partly how you figure out what your way is.
Try stuff!
4. “I’ll have to confront my fears!”
No confrontations necessary.
I mean, we can have mediators to negotiate with them and we can whisper in their general direction and also color with them.
But active confrontation? Not unless you want to.
There are plenty of ways around, over, under and behind fears. Not to mention ways to intentionally interact with them in a smart, conscious, loving, non-confrontational way.
All that face your fear stuff can be really violent sometimes. And it’s absurd that we think our only choices are running away or running into battle.
There are better choices than repressing or confronting. That’s kind of what we talk about here every day.
5. “I’ll have to give up this thing I really like.”
Why?
I see no reason for this.
It is true that sometimes, through the process of working on our stuff and discovering information for the Book of You, things will change.
You may find that you stop wanting to do things you used to do. Or in the way you used to do.
But to just give things up because biggification supposedly means you’re not allowed to have fun anymore, or to take time for yourself, or to see your friends? That’s just wrong.
6. “They’ll realize what a total phony I am.”
Not if you don’t pretend to be something you’re not.
That’s classic monster talk and it’s really scary and uncomfortable when you’re in it. But as arguments go, it doesn’t hold a lot of water.
7. “No one will like me.”
That is a worry, yes. And it feels horrible.
So much pain. I want to give you a hug right now.
And the whispered reminder that the more you speak in your own voice, the easier it is for people who are not your people to self-select out. Right? When visibility creates safety in ridiculous paradoxical ways?
8. “Whatever I do won’t be good enough.”
This is a hard one too. Especially because it feels so true.
So I’m not going to contradict it.
I will just say that for those specific people who need you right now, that’s what they need. Your you-ness. Just as it is.
And then we learn through experience that things as they are have meaning too. And this is hard. And I’m still in it too. And I’m sorry.
9. “Havi will hate me if I don’t live up to my potential.”
I honestly don’t know where people’s monsters get this one, because it’s absurd, but I’ve heard it more than once, so we’ll count it as a myth too.
If you want me to hate you, you’re going to have to try a lot harder than that. Seriously. There’s pretty much no way I’m going to stop liking you over something stupid like potential.
You’d have to burn down all my favorite buildings and be mean to my duck and stalk my gentleman friend and throw toilet paper all over the Playground. Exactly.
Also, this is not a parent-teacher conference. I don’t care about your potential. I just care about you.
You do not have to biggify. I will like you just the same either way. We’ve covered this.
10. “I’ll have to keep getting biggified and it will never stop! Bigger and bigger and bigger until it takes over my life. Nooooooo!”
Not going to happen. That’s because of the inverse hourglass principle, which I’ll tell you about soon. In the meantime, trust me — there is a way to sneak around this one.
Summing up the important stuff:
- Fear of biggification = normal.
- As is wanting it to happen and being terrified about things at the same time.
- Pretty much every objection that comes up is your monsters talking.
- They want so much to know you’ll be safe that they forget to tread gently with your tiny, sweet thing.
- Biggification isn’t something that you have to force. It’s something that gets more comfortable through the process of working on your stuff.
- Feeling safe and supported is a legitimate thing to want.
- Challenging your patterns is important. But there are loving ways to do that and there are violent ways to do that.
- It will be okay.
And comment zen for today …
Biggification stuff can be really painful.
So even though I can sometimes be kind of flippant because that’s my way …
I just want to acknowledge how sucky it is when all the monsters talk at once and biggification (mindful or otherwise), just feels so completely out of reach.
We all have our stuff. We’re all working on our stuff. We tread gently with other people’s stuff. Besos.
Very Personal Ads #48: oh yes, fun will be had
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 weekly ritual for clarity and remembering. Yay, ritual!
And … let’s do it.
Thing 1: more wondrous brunching excitement for the Playground!
Here’s what I want:
There has been so much lovely enthusiasm for my gigantic Phase 2 Fun-Brewing project to raise fun (and funds) for the Playground so we can make it beyootiful.
People have come up with terrifically creative things (like offering a thing and donating a chunk of the profits) and there has been a real sparkly, lighthearted, effervescent feeling to the whole thing.
Delight!
And now I want more of that, please.
Ways this could work:
Not sure.
Maybe some people who were inspired by the amazing thing that Willie did will decide to do something similar.
And maybe some of the right people for Bitchy Boozy Coaching will find it or remember its fabulous existence, and decide to be Playground Fairy Godparents and get a pile of goodies.
And maybe other people will write blog posts or facebook notes or whatever about how they donated love and good wishes and are getting the Copywriting Magic class as a thank you.
Basically much joyful spreading-the-word would be hugely appreciated. And that can happen in whatever form it happens.
My commitment.
To be hugely appreciative.
To dance up a storm until the Shivanautical epiphanies rain from the heavens.
To remember that there are so many ways to be taken care of.
To challenge (nicely) my residual stuckified patterns that say that I have to do everything myself. And to appreciate the constant reminders that actually this is not so.
Yes.
Thing 2: a perfect simple solution for the floor thing.
Here’s what I want:
So.
My gentleman friend spent all of last week cleaning, prepping and painting the floors at the Playground and getting them ready so we can put in the wooden yoga floor.
And, despite all the preparation and tests he did to make sure the paint would stick, now it’s not sticking. It’s scratching and peeling off.
And people are coming Friday.
Yeah. So whether this gets fixed by this weekend or not, I need a perfect, simple solution to show up so my gentleman friend doesn’t blow a gasket.
Ways this could work:
I don’t know.
We can try another layer on the edges. Or just carpets for now. Or have a paint scraping party with people.
Or the perfect simple solution can make itself known.
My commitment.
To breathe. To hope. To get creative.
To peek at my own stuff in case there’s something going on there that needs some love, because who knows.
To take lots of pictures of the renovation process.
To love the Playground and everything about it like it was my own. Which it is.
Thing 3: to maintain calm and steadiness and a sense of fun.
Here’s what I want:
It’s already a known thing that my people are coming and not everything is ready.
And the week is going to involve insane amounts of running around.
And I am determined to have fun with it.
Ways this could work:
I don’t know yet.
But I am learning this whole loving, patient, silly thing. And this is the next step.
My commitment.
To cackle hysterically when things go wrong and then go have a tea.
To remember that my people are awesome and that they will not mind things being partially done because they’re just happy to be there with me.
To share the joy and the hard and the funny and the whole damn process with you guys, as always.
Progress report on past Very Personal Ads.
Just to update you on what’s happened since last time.
I had an ask that was about smoothness and things coming together for the Playground. And I asked for help with the fun brewing.
And beautiful things happened. I was completely overwhelmed (but in a good way!) by the rush of love and support and people-being-happy-for-me.
Plus we found brilliant things to decorate the space and the most perfectly perfect ship wheel.
It is taking shape and I am getting better at receiving help. So hooray for that.
The other part had to do with getting better at trusting, and I had an enormous breakthrough with that this week.
Still working on living it. But I was able to wrap my head around a new piece of it this week after a lot of resistance. And it’s interesting stuff.
My final ask was about my beloved Camp Biggification.
And it wasn’t really the right ask, as it turned out. Someone wise told me that the important thing here is to love this program like a daughter.
So I think this is an ask that is taking a new form. We’ll see where it goes.
Comments. Since I’m already asking …
I am adding to my practice of asking for stuff by being more specific about what I would like to receive in the comments.
Here’s what I want (just leave them in the comments):
- 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 would rather not have:
- Reality theories and words like “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.
My commitment.
I am committing to getting better at asking for things even when asking feels weird.
Thanks for doing this with me!
Friday Chicken #95: chickens on skates!
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.
Oh boy! Friday.
It’s been a weird, twisted little week.
Let’s see …
The hard stuff
Pressure. I am not good at it.
Eight days until the Playground opens.
Insane amounts of things yet to be done and fun yet to be raised.
In the meantime, I still have clients and teaching and the bloggery. More creative juggling than I’d like. Less napping than I’d like.
Meh.
Things being complicated-er than hoped for.
Unexpected flooring issues at the Playground.
After my wonderful gentleman friend spent three days prepping and cleaning and painting so we could get started on it.
Uh oh. Needing a perfect simple solution to show up soon.
Extremely. Aggravating.
Some people in my life whose favorite sport is jumping to conclusions.
And the fact that this still annoys me even though there isn’t anything surprising about it.
Got stood up twice on client calls.
Which totally never happens. I think in five years of doing this it’s happened twice. And now twice in a week.
Both times for perfectly cromulent reasons. But still. Hmmmm.
Bad news in the world of roller derby.
Oh Rose City! We lost embarrassingly to Denver. Gah.
Though then Rocky Mountain went on to get whipped by the Oly Rollers the next day (that totally made me feel better) and went on to destroy Seattle. So that made up for some of the pain.
But still. This season is way too stressful. You know what we need? More Shivanauts on wheels! Next year.
And a happy-sad.
Some dear friends (and neighbors) might be moving to Australia. For three years.
Happy and excited for them but super sadface mouse for me.
The good stuff
That piece of good news we’ve been waiting for?
Yes, the not-getting of which has been the cause for great anxiety, impatience and general malaise in the “hard stuff” section of the Friday Chicken for three weeks now. Yes.
We got the news. Monday evening. And it is good.
And there has been great rejoicing.
Along with huge sighs of relief.
whew
My people.
Here’s what I said yesterday:
Phase 2 of the fun-brewing madness this week has shown me just how much support and encouragement there is for bringing something big and wacky into the world.
This is completely healing my deeply stuckified thought-programming of “you have to do everything yourself and you can’t trust anyone to be there for you”.
Seriously. It’s amazing.
I feel so supported and so loved and cared for. Thank you!
And they’re not just being helper mice but actually creating things to support the Playground.
Like Willie came up with this completely brilliant monster promotion to brew fun for the fun-brewing.
And Tara the Blonde Chicken is teaching a special class to raise monies for us too.
Various craft-ey people and Etsy-ites have written to ask if they can sew pillow cases or make costumes. It’s beautiful.
I feel so completely honored.
Huge deep overpowering gratitude.
For all the fun-brewers and friends and neighbors and blog readers and everyone in my life.
So. Much. Love.
This is a new flavor of grateful that I haven’t experienced before.
Crazy great shivanautical epiphanies.
Heaven. I’ve been doing lots of Shiva Nata and it’s all snap crackle pop in my brain right now.
Fountain of ideas and ways to implement things. Big stuff.
Friends!
A delightful visit with my Amna and much giggling and snacking and silliness.
What a joy. And now sad that she’s gone.
More time at home.
All this running around and doing stuff for the Playground has made me appreciate our beloved Hoppy House even more.
And then this week I got a few days to just do stuff at home and it was delightful.
Hoppy House! I love you!
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?
Bumblebeat Box
It’s a polka band. They have this album called Flight of the Bumblebeats. But it’s really 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.
When visibility leads to safety.
So last week I wrote about sneaking into visibility.
Which means: everything you do (including unlikely invisibility hacks) to help you feel safe while still letting your right people find you.
And since the post was already about all things sneakified, I sneakily snuck in a tiny piece of “advanced practice” craziness at the end. Hinted at it, actually.
Yes. The ridiculously counter-intuitive notion that visibility can help you feel safer.
And it kind of blew the tops off of people’s brains.
In a good way? Maybe? I hope so. Oh well.
Anyway, I thought I’d give you a bunch of examples from my own business — that way it’s not just a nebulous concept but something you could imagine actually working.
It still might be terrifying and hard-to-imagine, but maybe it will also give a glimpse of possibility and hopefulness. That would be nice.
When visibility creates safety. I know. What?!
Safety from mean people.
You pretty much never see troll-ey people here. They just don’t show up.
But if someone said something mean in the comments? My lovely commenter mice would go, dude this is not acceptable we don’t talk to each other like that here.
There would be an army of protection. And I wouldn’t have to stand up for myself or process it by myself, because my people would be there with me.
This is because I am visible. My people find me because I agree to not hide from them and because I hang out at the Twitter bar and because of the magic of the googles.
And they like me enough to stick up for me. Not just for me, but for the integrity of both this space and the community of smart, sweet, delightfully kooky people who have made it safe and welcoming.
That is amazing.
To hell with market research.
When I decided to create the monster coloring book, I didn’t have to go find out if this was something people thought was worth spending money on.
My particular brand of visibility has brought me people who get the way I interact with the world. If I realize we need a monster coloring book, they’ll bounce excitedly along with me.
Without this kind of visibility, I’d have to make myself crazy/bored with “research and development” stuff and unpleasant things like trying to figure out what people want.
You see some seriously biggified people constantly, frantically changing directions, not because they want to, but because they can’t abandon that pigs-hunting-for-truffles mode of relating to their “market”.
Visibility creates safety when it gives you the ability to not have a market. Just people. People you like. It’s so much less painful that way.
My business partner is a duck.
And my business card says Pirate Queen.
Though only because I am one. And there’s a picture of Pirate Selma!*
* We’re flying the Duck & Crossbones aka the Jolly Selma at the Playground too. It’s hilarious.
Since I stopped hiding my me-ness from my people, I’ve discovered just how many quality people in the world do not actually think I’m crazy.
A lot of them even approve of my ludicrous approach to running a business while pretending it’s a pirate ship. And some of them have become really good friends.
This gives me permission — and safety — to be as silly as I want to be.
Thanks, visibility.
I don’t have to tell people what I do.
As we discussed yesterday, I have no idea what I do for a living.
Which makes any event where you meet people and they ask what you do excruciatingly awkward.
Especially when I turn into a stammering bright red mushball of discomfort.
Guess what? Almost no one ever asks me that anymore.
Last year at SXSW, there were a couple people who asked the horrible question of doom. But then everyone else just looked at them pityingly.
As in: You don’t know who Havi is?! You don’t know Selma the Duck?! Do you live under a rock?!
Visibility FTW!
Helper mice everywhere.
This whole having a community of people who care about your mission thing is still pretty new for me.
Phase 2 of the fun-brewing madness this week has shown me just how much support and encouragement there is for bringing something big and wacky into the world.
This is completely healing my deeply stuckified thought-programming of “you have to do everything yourself and you can’t trust anyone to be there for you”.
Wow.
If I hadn’t let my people see me and my process — and if I hadn’t set clear boundaries for how this space works — I’d still be tangled up in all that hurting.
So this particular form of safety-infused visibility has brought more support to my work and less vulnerability and fear.
I am not going to try and talk you into being more visible.
Because I don’t think that’s even slightly helpful.
As far as I’m concerned, you could hide for the rest of your life and I would still like you just as much.
Not wanting to be seen is the most understandable thing I can think of. Craving safety is always legitimate.
The only thing I’m trying to do here is to introduce the idea that it isn’t a toss-up between being seen or being safe. That sometimes visibility creates more safety instead of less.
And that when you agree to be visible for your people, whoever they may be (even if you’re not sure they exist), something beautiful happens.
And you discover you’re packing serious protection that you didn’t even know about.
Comment zen for today.
This subject is so, so, so full of hard.
And if anything in here has stepped on your stuff, I apologize and offer a hug. And a warm blanket. And pie.
Because my intention is not to force you to do things differently, and it’s not to send your monsters into panic mode. It’s just to hint at what is possible, in the hope that some part of you can feel the pull of things that are good.
We’re all working on our stuff. We don’t give advice, but we are supportive and appreciative of the fact that talking about our stuff can be really hard and painful.
postscript!
If learning how to be visible-while-not-compromising safety feels good and you want help with the right people thing, peek at Camp Biggification before it closes. And visit the Fun Brewing: Phase 2 page to read about the outrageous bonuses. xox
You don’t need to have a thing.
A lovely comment from Julie in last week’s post about sneaking into visibility reminded me about a bunch of questions I’ve been meaning to answer.
Like “What if I don’t have a thing?” And “What if I don’t know what my thing is?” And “Do I even want a thing?” And:
“How do I know which thing is my thing? There are sooooo many — how do I choose?”
This whole theme is actually one of the big scary anxiety meltdown-triggers that worry my people the most, so it is high time for some Helpful Explain-ey-ness.
First: where we get tangled.
When I say “thing”, I’m generally using it as shorthand for anything you want to share with the world.
It’s just easier to refer to your thing than “your art or your music or your Etsy shop or your poetry or the fact that you do coaching sessions or your blog about things you think about while riding the train.”
A lot of my people also think of “thing” as more of a “soul purpose” type of deal, which leads to the existential crises of ohmygod I don’t know what my thing is.
When I say that you don’t need to know what your thing is, I mean: you don’t need to be able to say “I’m a blah blah blah who helps blah blah blah do blah blah blah“.
And — more importantly — when I say you don’t need a thing, it’s because you already have a thing.
Now let’s get to what that thing actually is.
You already have a thing.
In a deeper, broader sense, your thing is made up of four elements. Everyone has these.
Your thing = [+ qualities] [+ experience] [+ needs] [+ message]
And all of these are already inside of you.
Thing Ingredient #1: Qualities.
Qualities are the distilled essence of what you have to give.
For example, if you hang out in my insanely endless archives, you’ll notice that a lot of what I talk about has to do with safety and sanctuary.
My monsters are trying to keep me safe. So are my walls. And my blocks.
And whether I’m talking about vulnerability or complaining about my week while making up ridiculous names for fake bands, I’m secretly hoping it will help you feel a little more safe being yourself.
Other qualities that are part of my thing: support, quiet, playfulness and love.
It’s not important to know what these qualities are. They’ll emerge over time.*
* Though if you want help with this, I like the Finding Your Jewel exercise in Mark‘s book.
Thing Ingredient #2: Experience.
Experience refers to everything you know. Everything you’ve ever seen and done and internalized.
It’s your wisdom, and it’s also your pain.
That experience of pain that gives you the ability to meet people where they are. And it gives them the ability to trust you and connect with you.
When I think about my experience, it includes (among other things):
- things exploding and the terror
- the depression and the tripping over things
- the unbearable outsider syndrome and living as a foreigner in three countries
- becoming a yoga teacher and a Shivanaut
- all the people who believed in me and all the times I didn’t have anyone to do that.
We do not stop being one thing and then become something else.
At various times in my life I have been a bartender and a grappa taster and a factory worker and a choreographer and a tree-climber and a cow-milker and a secretary and a cog and a waitress and consultant and a meditation teacher.
I have fixed tractors and attended conferences and fried eggs and cried in bathrooms.
And I use the skills I learned in these spaces every single day. It’s all part of me. And therefore, it’s all part of my thing.
Thing Ingredient #3: Needs.
Needs are the things that help you feel safe and supported being yourself. What sustain you.
The need to be heard, acknowledged, appreciated.
Comfort. Support. Love. Sovereignty.
The things you need to feel connected to yourself are also part of your thing. And making them a priority is hugely important.
Hint! Your needs are the same as the qualities you have to give (here the focus = absorbing them internally as well as giving them out).
Thing Ingredient #4: Message.*
This one often especially trips people up.
Because it’s easy to think ohmygod I don’t have a message and how could I possibly know what it is if I had one gaaaaaaaah?!
But you do.
Here’s what “message” means:
Everything you really care about.
And I mean everything.
If you can’t stand it when people drink beer out of cans, that’s part of your thing. Even if your thing was mostly about sewing dresses for dolls. It’s now also about how bottled beer is the only way to go.
If you think you don’t have stuff to say, listen to yourself when someone says something that you know is wrong. You care.
That’s part of your message. Add that to the Book of You because it’s important.
* Message is something I took from the brilliant Barbara Sher, and I appreciate both the word and concept because I didn’t have a good thing to call this part other than “passion” (blech).
The short version.
- Qualities = what you have to give
- Experience = what you know
- Needs = what supports you
- Message = what you care about.
All four of these combine to become “your thing”.
You can choose to do something with it or not. It’s still your thing.
And it’s more than that.
These four elements combine to form your essential you-ness.
That unique collection of thoughts, feelings, ideas, wonderings that is yours.
Imagine a kind of essence-of-you. Like a scent or potion that infuses everything you do.
Though you might not be sharing them with your people yet, these things are already part of you.
Your you-ness is not a thing that needs finding.
It just needs things like safety and acknowledgment and all the rest of the good stuff that we talk about here.
Conclusion and reassurances!
I apologize if anything I’ve ever said has lead you to think that I think that you need to have a defined thing. You don’t have to choose a thing.
Because you already have a thing. And it encompasses vastnesses.
We only think we need to pick a thing because people are always saying stuff like “what’s your thing?” And because the biggifiers say we need to be able to tell people what we do.
Most of my people currently agonizing over what their thing is don’t realize that I don’t know exactly what my thing is either.
That’s why I prefer think of it in terms of qualities + experience + needs + message.
Because honestly? I have not the slightest idea what I do for a living, and I still make really good money doing it. So being able to define your thing really cannot be as important as we all seem to want it to be.
And comment zen for today…
We all have our stuff. We’re all working on our stuff.
We don’t give advice, but we are supportive and appreciative of the fact that talking about our stuff can be really hard and painful.
Kisses to the commenter mice and the Beloved Lurkers and everyone.
And an unrelated postscript!
There’s still time to visit the Fun Brewing: Phase 2 page to donate love and good wishes (which also gets you a recording of Copywriting Magic) and support the Playground!