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.

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):

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!

Like a barn-raising but with more pirate monkeys. And no barn.

Notes:

  • when I talk about fun-brewing, that’s what most people call fundraising (but more fun).
  • The barn going up here is the delightful and kooky Playground.
  • I’m not actually having a baby. Metaphor!
  • Selma is my duck.
  • If you’re only going to click on one link in this post, this is the one!

The stucknesses come to visit!

So. One of things about bringing a tiny sweet thing into the world is this:

There’s pretty much no way to avoid running into every piece of stuck you’ve ever had.

This is not really news. Big, crazy, transformational experiences bring stuff up.

And it’s pretty hard to successfully biggify something without mindfully working on your stuff and untangling some patterns.

Not resolving your stuff or anything like that. Just giving it some attention.

So the past several months from dreaming up the Playground to whooshing it into existence to today have been kind of intense.

Some of the stuff I’ve run into:

All my monsters. All my fears. And every possible form of internal uncertainties. Including:

  • the you’re not allowed to actually have something you want or the world will fall apart wall
  • the nothing works rule
  • the no one cares about your thing anyway monster (and his older cousin the how can you be such a selfish bitch monster)
  • an internal you have to go it alone or else rule that I didn’t even know about
  • and every trust-related stuck I’ve ever had.

Some of what I’ve been using to work on this stuff:

  1. Doing Shiva Nata to spark epiphanies about what’s really going on.
  2. Writing Very Personal Ads and love letters to help me sort out what I need while finding and opening the Playground.
  3. Talking to my walls and putting on plays inside my head.
  4. Using negotiators and other helper mice.
  5. Every single tactic in the monster manual and coloring book.
  6. Going back to the Book of Me to make sure that I’m taking care of myself. And adding things to the Dammit List.
  7. Talking to fairy godmothers like Hiro and Pam and the amazing group leaders who make my Kitchen Table program so great.
  8. Extreme wackiness.
  9. Going for long walks with Selma.

Some of what I’ve been learning:

  • When I make it fun, everyone has fun (and even though my monsters think this is a terrible thing to value, bringing joyfulness to the world is a legitimate pursuit).
  • Letting your people help and be a part of the fabulous things you’re doing is good for you and it’s also good for them.
  • Basically, everyone wins when I get over my need to do everything on my own.
  • Burnout is full of usefulness.
  • Pirate monkey meditation cushions are totally appropriate and I am not a disgrace to the yoga world from whence I came. It is okay to bring on the silly.

Some of the fun that is happening at the Playground!

We’re setting up a room to be the Angel Refueling Station.

This is something I got from Fabeku — he was saying something about how even angels have to refuel sometimes.

And we said, ohmygod there should be a place for that. So we invented this imaginary space where you go to chill out when things suck. With blankets. And tea. And whiskey.

So there’s going to be a purple hammock. And pirate cushions.

And the best curtain policy in the entire world.*

* Drawn curtain = leave me alone please. Half-drawn curtain = I want to be alone but I won’t mind if you comfort me. Open curtain = I’m needing a moment but please come give me a hug.

Pirate monkey meditation cushions!

We’re arranging for lots of useful supplies and toys for Old Turkish Lady yoga and the punk rock Shivanauttery.

And all in the spirit of the Playground:

Whimsy, Joyfulness, Chaos, Order, Hilarity, Power and Badassery.

And Play. Because of course it’s all about the playing. And the grounding.

The ship’s wheel.

Since my business is a pirate ship, we’re getting a ship’s wheel.

Like the circle of fire that frames the Nataraj. Because dancing the dance of destruction is seriously BADASS. Which is kind of what we’re going for.

And of course we wanted a wheel that had history (not a reproduction) so searching for the one has been way too much fun.

The Costumery!

Because costumes do amazing things. And because we totally have to dress up.

Or at least have the opportunity to put on costumes should we want to.

The barn-raising part! Or: how you get to play with us.

So it’s a barn-raising but with monkeys and no barn. And a pirate duck.

We are starting Phase Two of the Fun-Brewing today. Huzzah!

Here’s how it works.

We’re opening in ten days.

We’re going to need a floor. And to order those pirate monkey meditation cushions. And to have fun and be joyful and goof off, because that is part of how this works.

Everyone gets to be a helper mouse.

And everyone who helps gets a present.

Let me repeat that with appropriate typographical emphasis:

Everyone gets to be a helper mouse.

And everyone who helps gets a present.

Even if the only thing you can donate right now is love and good wishes. Because that counts too.

For all the ways you can give…

And for all the neat things you get as a thank you:

–> you can take a look at the Phase 2 Fun Brewing madness page.

And then come and rejoice with me in the comments, if you like.

Because eeeeeeeeee! And yay! And this is really happening!

And thank you.

You being a part of this makes everything better.

Very Personal Ads #47: Brunch is the most important meal of the day

very personal adsPersonal ads! They’re … personal! Very.

So my itty bitty personal ads made me realize that it’s time to make a regular practice of trying to feel okay asking for stuff.

Even when the asking thing feels weird and conflicted.

Ever since I posted the first one asking my perfect house to find me, which united me with Hoppy House, I have been a fan of the madness that is personal ads.

And now it’s my Sunday ritual. Yay, ritual!

Let’s do this.

Thing 1: Everything to come together for the Playground.

Here’s what I want:

Update: the Playground, my crazy studio for playing, teaching, and practicing destuckification and mindful biggification, is scheduled to open in two weeks.

The amount of work still to be done is outrageous.

Like, we could really use a floor.

Selma, my gentleman friend and I plan to be messing around with this all week. Except that my gentleman friend also has to work, I have a pretty full load of teaching and client sessions, and Selma is a duck.

So I need smoothness, order-from-chaos, play, fun, and some serious fairy godmother assistance.

Ways this could work:

Hmmm. Not sure.

It just could.

I’m going to find ways to ask for help.

I’m going to do everything in my power to respect my capacity. To notice where I get shaken.

And ask for perfect, simple solutions.

And keep working on that weird trusting-in-the-timing-of-things bit.

My commitment.

I will:

  • keep you guys posted on what’s going on.
  • post pictures of the Playground’s transformation into its gorgeous self.
  • do Shiva Nata on this every day, because order and chaos and restructuring is what it’s all about.
  • try to remember to stop and breathe and re-connect.
  • make it silly and playful when I can, and forgive myself when I can’t.
  • dance dance dance!

Thing 2: Huge fabulous happy Phase 2 Funbrewing.

Here’s what I want:

We’re going to be brewing fun for the Playground all week.

But with a special as-yet-to-be-announced Phase 2 party.

There will be balloons and rejoicing and donation classes and Fairy Godparent packages and presents and general hilarity.

So I’d like this to stay mostly on schedule, raise a small pile of monies to cover the renovations so we can open on time, and be fun as hell.

Ways this could work:

Everything could fall into place so I can tell everyone about it (maybe even tomorrow)?!

I can remember to lean into my enormous network of support, love and excitements:

Various biggified friends and colleagues who are happy to spread the news, my lovely Kitchen Table mice, you guys.

It could just be full of surprises (but the really good kind).

My commitment.

To let you see the behind-the-scenes of what we’re doing and how we’re doing it.

To express my sincere, loopy joy that you’re going to be a part of this beautiful birth with me.

To talk about my love for this tiny, sweet thing that is no longer so tiny.

To notice what I need when I need it, and to give myself permission to take naps in the middle of the party.

To remember to tell you how grateful I am that this Playground has so many people who already love it. Thank you.

Thing 3: the next stage of this getting-better-at-trusting thing.

Here’s what I want:

So over the past several weeks I’ve been working on various aspects of having faith that things won’t suck.

It’s the falling anvil thing.

And each week I make an ask about bringing more conscious awareness to it and untangling the next piece.

And something happens.

I am getting better at this, slowly but surely. Less likely to head into panic, more likely to stop and reconnect to what I need.

So now I’m ready for the next piece. To take this practice deeper. To know that things will be okay, one way or another.

And to have this learning take place in a way that is gentle and not painful.

Ways this could work:

We’ll see.

My commitment.

To breathe. To wait. To remind myself of the things I forget.

To do Dance of Shiva on it.

To write and sweat and sleep on it.

To have patience with the fact that no, I don’t have patience with anything.

Thing 4: Close Camp Biggification.

Here’s what I want:

I want to be done talking about Camp Biggification so I can throw myself into making it the best thing in the entire world.

Ways this could work:

I’m going to have to find out.

My commitment.

To love it and honor this program.

To respect how scary and intimidating it can be to commit to getting good at stuff like visibility and invisibility and safety and protection and right people and the bizarre secret art of sexy, hard-to-get-marketing.

To rejoice over its people.

To give you the link: it’s called Camp Biggification and it’s awesome and there’s pie.*

* Also, signing up makes you a Playground Fairy Godparent and gets you some pretty insane bonuses that I haven’t told anyone about yet.

Progress report on past Very Personal Ads.

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

I asked for help with the next chunk of fun-brewing and yeah, baby it worked. We figured out the structure for Phase 2.

Then I asked for windows of time to get this done and those showed up too.

I also wanted to be cool with the not knowing. And while this worked significantly better than last week, I’m still kind of on pins and needles about certain things. So. Could use some work.

And I wanted Shivanautical epiphanies. And got them in freaking spades. To the point that it was actually kind of trippy. So. Good week.

http://shivanata.com/blog/stuff-i-think-about/shivanautical-realizations-epiphanies-take-1

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 #94: Colonel Gustard in the living room with a candlestick?

Friday chickenBecause it’s Friday AGAIN. And because traditions are important. In which I cover the good stuff and the hard stuff in my week, trying for the non-preachy, non-annoying side of self-reflection.

And you get to join in if you feel like it.

What a week.

Big hellos to all the Chickeneers of the High Seas (that’s a Lucy-ism).

And let’s do this.

The hard stuff

Two weeks to get the Playground ready!

So the Playground opens in two weeks! Gah! Not ready!

We still need a floor.

So this is going to be pretty entertaining.

It’s kind of like that moment when the dress rehearsal sucks but you know that by opening night things are going to rock. Because they have to.

Please laugh hysterically with me.

Not getting the good news we’re still hoping for.

What about now? Nope.

Ummm …. not yet? REALLY? What about now?

This watched pot really needs to start boiling.

Back to my trusting the timing of things practice. How’s that going?

People I love being moody and sad.

So hard.

A dose of writer’s block.

Yes, I know that several thousand people read every single word that goes up here, but it still weirds me out when people I know in real life mention stuff going on for me that I’ve talked about here.

And then I clam up and have nothing to say. And it sucks.

Hurt shoulder.

Ow.

The good stuff

Derby! Hell yeah!

So Rose City’s Wheels of Justice did beat Rat City.

Sanctioned bout. Final score 124:24.

This is the third time I’ve watched our Portland girls beat Seattle. But Rat City has been undefeated this year (not anymore, baby), and this time we were vying for national ranking, people.

And now that Selma and I sponsor one of the Portland teams, we’re even more obsessive and obnoxious about derby than before.

So it was crazy stressful.

Luckily Dana‘s husband and Cairene both showed up to scream their heads off with me and Selma.

And something worked because whooooooooooooooooooo!

Being at my favorite uncle’s house in the woods.

Even though he wasn’t there.

And then he came back!

Yay!

Being with my uncle is like going to sovereignty camp.

He lives his life exactly the way he wants to and doesn’t apologize for it. He manages to be sweet and gentle to everyone and still not let anyone push him around.

I admire him tremendously. And being around him is good for me.

Everything being sweet and cozy and perfect.

In the woods. Rain beating down on the skylights. My gentleman friend napping. Gus thumping his tail by the fire.

Drinking tea. Writing.

Heaven.

Shavuot!

Yes, we have a holiday that involves eating dairy.

Which is kind of my favorite thing to do anyway.

But when you’re knee deep in goat-milk yogurt and blintzes, life is good.

If this were Twitter, I’d hashtag this entry with something like #yayjews.

Playground stuff.

The Playground!

We have pirate monkey meditation cushions being made!

We have paint picked out!

Extreme excitements!

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?

Colonel Gustard and the Candlesticks.

They’re playing The Living Room this weekend.

Except that it’s actually 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 weekend. And a happy week to come.

The Fluent Self