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.
Friday Chicken #90: extra stompy
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.
Almost two years of chickens, people.
Behold the ridiculous staying power of the chicken.
I still don’t get it but yay. Three cheers for all the Chickeneers of the High Seas, far and wide, including those who just do it in their heads.
Let’s do it!
The hard stuff
Running into all my sovereignty issues again.
Sovereignty, as you know, is the spiritual quality of not giving a shit. Of being at home in your body and your life. Of knowing that you are only responsible for your stuff, not for anyone else’s.
I’m working on it pretty much all the time. Adjusting that invisible crown.
So I was really, really ready to practice this at the airport.
Wearing my badass sovereignty boots. Straightening the crown. Staying grounded.
But no. Still got pulled out of line by every petty little tyrant in Canada.
Who unpacked my bags and threw my underwear all over the counter. Asked me ridiculous and insulting snappy questions. Threatened to lock up my gentleman friend because he “looked annoyed”.
Yes, that’s a quote. It was lovely. More to work on.
Going back to work stuff and being slammed.
Not a whole lot to say about that other than aaaaaaaaagh.
And then my morning yoga practice disappeared again.
Possibly related to the above.
Yes.
Writer’s block.
Oof.
General discouragement.
As you know.
And worrying about the lease.
Angstiness.
Everything. Gets. On. My. Nerves.
Even things I used to really like.
Bah humbug, etc.
Luckily though, there was lots of good stuff too.
The good stuff
Getting to spend five days with Hiro.
It was so beautiful and so amazing.
We got huge amounts of work done. She worked magic on me. And I talked her into teaching a class on Internet hangover (awesome).
Watching someone who lives the way I want to live. With slow deliberation. And fun.
Someone who can put herself to bed at 8:30 if she’s tired.
It’s good for me to see that.
Baths!
Hiro got me hooked on baths again.
Oh the joy.
I’m turning relaxation into an extreme sport again.
Stomping around in my sovereignty boots.
Stomping!
Not just for being annoyed anymore.
Soup.
Ohmygod. Soup at Saraveza so good that I kind of want to marry it.
Broccoli soup with cheddar. Ayiiiiii. So. Much. Good.
Finally!
I redid the lame “greatest hits” section on the sidebar after threatening to do it months ago and then forgetting about it. Months.
Yes, that was December.
So if you haven’t been on the site in a while and you’re reading this in a blog reader or email of whatever, worth a click-through.
I have actual relevant posts in the sidebar instead of stuff from two years ago!
Excellent.
Client sessions.
Too much fun.
Had a crazy number of clients this week because of vacation ketchup. But they’re all so smart and kooky and wonderful.
Worked some small miracles. And there was much giggling and play.
Love.
Naps.
Still happening.
Still brilliant.
Being wrong. Oh how I love being wrong when wrong is what is right.
I had a minor freakout about not hearing back about the lease for The Playground.
Went into a hundred different stories until I remembered the thing about the WEAR + TEAR and how we’re always wrong about everything.
And was delighted to find out shortly thereafter that yes, I was blissfully wrong.
They’d been on vacation for a week. And are negotiating. And it will be good.
Whew.
Stuff I was reading and pondering this week.
Loved this piece from Maryann on her imaginary purple-haired speed-demon assistant Tina.
She (Maryann, not Tina) is also doing a super affordable webinar on finding your online voice. She’s smart and insightful. Very relevant for all of us who dislike the M-word.
Kelly did another hysterical video with her monster assistant Aaaaaagw on the case of the serial comma.
And Cairene is doing Bite The Candy again and I’m determined not to miss it.
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 I’m proud to introduce you to the uhhhh … timeless stylings of:
Beanbag Timewarp and the Jamtastics.
Yep. It’s just one guy.
That’s it for me …
And yes yes yes, of course you can join in my Friday ritual right here in the comments bit if you feel like it.
Yeah? Anything hard and/or good happen in your week?
And, as always, have a glorrrrrrrrrrrrious weekend. And a happy week to come.
On discouragement.
Yesterday was full of iguanas and other things I didn’t feel like doing.
It was also full of doubt and discouragement.
Serious discouragement.
And too much of it.
Overwhelmed by the post-vacation catch-up game.
A weird and unexpected case of writer’s block.
Not hearing back about the lease for The Playground.
Getting disconnected. Forgetting why I do this. Not in the mood. Poor me, etc.
And most of the things that normally pull me back out weren’t doing the trick.
Anyway. At the end of the day I made a list of what did help, a little.
And put it by the bed in case the discouragement monsters were planning to stop by for a visit this morning.
Things that were helpful yesterday afternoon and may possibly also be helpful today.
Permission.
As in, permission to feel like crap.
I am allowed to feel discouraged.
Even though it feels very not okay that I am deep in the discouragement, this is where I am. Right now. Not forever. Just right now.
It’s temporary. And it’s how I’m feeling. And it doesn’t need to say anything deep about who I am. It’s a mood. It isn’t the whole of me.
And even though I want to be over it already, I am allowed to have a day where I lose my passion.
Reminders that this is normal.
All of it.
It’s normal to avoid things you care about.
It’s normal to doubt yourself.
It’s normal when you’re in the hard to think that it will always be hard.
Sometimes things are just not that fun. Understandable. I still don’t have to like it, but there isn’t anything weird about it.
There is a reason.
There is a reason for why I’m feeling the way I’m feeling, even if I can’t remember what it is or access the truth of it.
I don’t mean cosmic explanations or finding silver linings. I mean:
The endless wondering but why is it like this isn’t that helpful.
There are plenty of perfectly good reasons for me to be feeling discouraged, disconnected, confused.
And even without knowing exactly what they are, I can give myself that sense of this is a legitimate thing to be feeling.
What got you here won’t get you there.
Oh bless that book I didn’t like with the great title for giving me the most perfect, helpful phrase ever.
This is what reminds me that things are different now.
And in order to establish a new pattern, I can’t necessarily use the stuff that worked for me in the past.
It’s time to switch things up. It’s time to let go of my need to rely on what has been true for me before and to start asking what is needed now?
Just one thing.
When all else fails, I can always do just one thing.
Whatever I’m saying to myself? Probably the monsters.
All that stuff about how there’s no point and why even bother and everything sucks and I’m just not that good at this.
It’s not me. It’s them.
And so I pull out my monster-watching guide and I talk to them.
Or if I can’t talk to them, I remind myself that this is not the truth of who I am.
Editing the Book of You.
The nice thing about pulling out the Book of You is that even if the stuff in there doesn’t help, the act of editing it puts you into detective mode.
You aren’t identifying with the hard so much as learning about how it works and how you interact with it.
So, for example, yesterday I noted that the “taking a walk makes everything better” rule doesn’t hold if you walk somewhere crowded and busy.
And that when I can’t dance or do yoga or Shiva Nata, reclining on the floor and breathing totally counts.
And breathing. Again.
Four count inhale. Eight count exhale.
Legs up on the wall. Five minutes of just breathing.
This has gotten me through things too hard to write about on the blog.
It will be one of the things that will help me through this.
What would Andrey do?
There are four people in this world whom I admire so intensely that just invoking them makes things better.
My teachers. Andrey and Orna. My friend Hiro. My uncle Svevo.
Just remembering what it’s like to be around someone who turns inward.
Someone who makes seclusion a priority.
Someone who isn’t impressed by my stuff or the fact that I have it.
Someone who loves me unconditionally.
Someone who can practice sovereignty with grace and ease.
Someone who knows that discouragement is a part of a bigger whole.
Remembering this brings back that spark of hopefulness.
The truth is, it doesn’t even matter so much what it is that helps.
What matters is having stuff to try.
That conscious process of experimentation.
The part of you who knows that there will be comfort and support eventually.
What I’m telling myself this morning:
The next time discouragement shows up, your relationship to it will be slightly different. Because your relationship to yourself will be slightly different.
Slightly. It counts.
And … comment zen for today.
People vary. Techniques vary. What you need at any given time will vary.
We all have our stuff. We’re all working on our stuff.
Iguanability #3: let’s put some shoes on that iguana!
Okay. Iguanability is short for Iguanaccountability, which is the best kind of accountability there is. Because it’s deguiltified.
And because of the iguanas.
Iguanas = the [stupid, crappy, annoying] things you don’t feel like doing.
Calling them iguanas makes it weirdly easier to do them. This is all Karen‘s fault for creating the awesome Inowanna Iguana.
Doing this iguanability thing is a reminder that it’s completely normal to avoid stuff you don’t feel like doing and that you are a lovely person despite not wanting to do them.
So we use these posts to get acknowledgment and cheering while working on our iguanas. Like an iguana chicken! And even if we don’t get them done, we know that we are still loved and adored.
My first thing that doesn’t want to be done yet:
A decent HAT for my new program.*
* HAT stands for Havi’s Announcing A Thing — it’s essentially a sales page but I can’t say sales page without having to throw up a little. So I decorate hats instead of writing copy.
I’m doing a three day thing in June about the art of not being intimidated by biggification. Which will be awesome. And will sell out in a day.
If I actually write the page and tell people about it.
Reminding myself why I’m wanting to do it now:
This is the time.
Sure, it’s gotten delayed because of the Canada trip and a small clan of semi-emergencies that have been popping up.
This is something that will be so much fun. And so powerful. And it will set the energy for the new Playground.
Making it easier on myself by:
Permission to do a crappy first run and then hate it.
Dedicating 20 minutes to making initial notes and then putting on some Beastie Boys and dancing around.
Remembering that this whole process is about fun and play.
Resistance coming up says:
“But you have a million things to do! And they’re all more important than this! And you can’t neglect your blah blah blah. And when are you going to do all these other things? And why won’t you look at the bigger picture and realize that there is no point to doing anything because there will always be more work!?!?!“
Me saying to resistance:
“Oh, I see.
You’re feeling worried that I’ll get overworked and I’ll lose sight of taking care of myself. And yet your methodology is based on keeping me paralyzed by telling me about all the things I’m not doing.
Listen, I like that you want us to stay connected to the bigger picture and the bigger purpose. And, you also know that when I think about everything that has to be done, I get overwhelmed and I fall apart.
And then nothing gets done.
So here’s what we’re going to do: I’ll tell you about it when I make my commitment, okay? “
Commitment:
I am not going to put my attention to the million things that want doing. But I will acknowledge that there are a lot of them.
And after I’ve given twenty minutes to this one thing, I’ll ask my First Mate to help me make a list of the other things that are going on, so we can address them at Drunk Pirate Council tomorrow.
And I’ll check in with myself as I go.
My second thing that doesn’t want to be done yet:
Changes to the my other website.
Reminding myself why I’m wanting to do it now:
Because the look and the energy are old and out-dated.
Because I built that site when my relationship to dance and teaching were different.
Because this is what needs to happen next.
Making it easier on myself by:
Committing to make just three changes instead of trying to make all the changes.
Resistance coming up says:
“This is a distraction. Your business is The Fluent Self. All the dance teaching brain training stuff is a side thing. This isn’t where your energy needs to go. Do you want it to be like last time when …?! “
Me saying to resistance:
“Oh, I get it. The we don’t want it to be like last time thing. Right. You’re one of my monsters.
Well, hon. You’re absolutely right that we don’t want it to be like last time. And I don’t think it will be. Lots of things are different about right now.
And one of the things that’s different is my intention. And what I know about myself.
So why don’t we give this a shot and find out more about the relationship between different parts of what I do? We won’t spend all week on this. It’s a small project, and we’ll see how it goes.”
Commitment:
To notice when the stuck shows up.
To remind myself that this is part of a sovereignty practice.
To keep this project small for now, knowing that it can change and grow into something else later. All I’m doing is planting seeds and doing some loving, much-needed maintenance.
Comment zen for the Iguanability stuff:
Okay. This blog is a zero-guilt space. Which means …
No shoulds. No shoes. No service. Okay, maybe service. But definitely no advices.
However, little hoorays are appreciated. As are offers of drinks. Or ritual sacrifices to the Iguana.
And of course you are more than welcome to share your own chickens iguanas Things That Don’t Want To Be Done Yet and whatever is being processed around that.
I promise no one here is going to make you feel bad if what you want to happen doesn’t happen in the way you want it to, but we will be supportive so you can regroup.
As Neil Diamond once (horrifyingly) said: chicken ripple ice cream. Goodness.
On invoking protection.
Okay. This post was supposed to be a continuation of yesterday’s musings about the art of preparing for something you really, really want.
About the Playground — my new baby that is not a baby, and some of the things I’m doing, working on, thinking about and imagining, in the context of creating safety for this tiny, sweet thing. And fun-brewing.
So I was writing. And at a certain point, it morphed into a poem and surprised the hell out of me.
And became the second time I’ve written an accidental poem on the blog.
There are footnotes at the end, to clear up some parts that might not make sense. And if it still doesn’t make sense, my wish is that it sets off something hopeful in you.
Start with the first circle.
Starting with the first circle.
The giant ship’s wheel on the wall.
Direction and steadiness. Setting a course. Marking a path.
A trajectory of intention. Change. Possibility.
Fortuna, the pirate ship, the chakras. The frame. Of course. It’s the frame of the Nataraj.
You can’t get away from the dance.
Then the mezuzah.
It says remember.
It says I remember.
It says wholeness. It says entry. It says you are safe.
It says with your whole heart and your whole soul and your whole being-ness.
It says when you lie down and when you rise up.
It says on your gates.
It whispers safe passage in all transitions.
A hand.
That’s the hamsa. A shield with an eye.
Another way in.
Eye of the storm.
Another place of stillness in chaos.
New beginnings.
Ganesh swings from the chandelier by his elephant trunk, the god of new things and new beginnings.
Careless, carefree, sweet. Keep watch. For the moment when playful swinging reveals patterns and spirals.
A piece of memory:
My father putting a piece of the afikoman above the door to ward off evil spirits.
It keeps away the demons. That we don’t believe in.
Exactly.
Sound.
I sound the bell. A ringing so round and complete that everything stops.
The sound rises in circles. Like a perfect tornado funnel.
Yeats in the corner, with his gyres. Scribbling furiously. Taking notes.
Then there’s that sound that comes after the sound. The other vortex. The wishing well.
Another sign.
When I couldn’t find my way, I asked for a sign.
Prompting lengthy and complex internal discussion.
I don’t believe in signs. But I wanted one. But I wanted to not believe in it. But I wanted it to be so clear that there was no doubt it was speaking to me. But I needed to know that the process was internal, not external. But I needed faith.
But.
And then there it was.
The small, tilted wishing well.
The one from the drawing. The one I’d already chosen to be the sign before I knew there was going to be a sign.
A wooden bowl full of monsters.
We collect them.
So we can practice the art of not being scared by them.
We talk to them. We practice wishing them well.
And it’s back to the dance.
Spiraling movements of deconstruction and creation.
Everything comes apart apart into its essence. Every pattern into a new one.
Smashing dancing. Soothing dancing. Whirling dancing. Wishing dancing.
Bringing new unheard of things into form. Stepping right into the chaos.
Eye of the storm.
Watching the pieces coming together, re-form themselves. New air.
Disappearing into the dance of anger that is also the dance of joy that is also the dance of everything that is possible.
The most gorgeous falling apart there is.
Under the wheel.
It’s a wheel. A sign. A hand. A new beginning.
The shield. The bell.
The funnel. The well.
Guardians of the gate. Eye of the storm.
It wishes me well.
Assorted footnotes and some Useful Links:
Because it seemed kind of weird to put links in a poem but I figured there might be stuff you’d want references for.
- The pirate ship is my business and I am the Pirate Queen.
- The nataraj is dancing Shiva.
- The dance is Dance of Shiva, the cosmic dance of creation and destruction.
- A mezuzah is what we place in our entryways.
- A hamsa is an amulet for protection.
- The afikoman is the last thing you eat at the seder.
- Ganesh is a Hindu deity: lord of new beginnings and remover of obstacles.
- And the monsters are everywhere we internalize criticism.
And comment zen for today.
Part of the joy of having a blog is that it’s — gott sei dank — not a literary criticism class.
So no advice on my poetry non-career, please. I’m not leaving my day job. Wait, this is my day job. Never mind.
Also: a symbol is a symbol is a symbol. A metaphor is a metaphor is a metaphor. Symbols and metaphors are not avodah zara. They are symbols and metaphors.
You’re welcome to share excitement and wonder. And to be happy for me and my Playground in our time of craziness and fun-brewing.
And if I am not the only one whose writing sometimes becomes poetry, that would be a lovely, reassuring thing to know.
Preparing for the arrival of a thing you really, really want.
So as you might already know … I’m having a baby that’s not actually a baby, but a tiny, sweet thing.
It’s a playground. The Playground. A real-life studio for everything that my duck and I teach.
And now it’s being born.
There is the waiting.
The waiting. And the waiting.
There is the not being ready because you can’t be ready, but what the hell you’re committing to stepping into this new role anyway.
The hesitancy.
The excitement.
The ambivalence.
The knowledge that everything is changing.
The anticipation.
The wonder.
The wondering.
The second-guessing.
The double-checking of everything.
The stashing of supplies.
And of course, preparation happens on different levels simultaneously.
So there’s physical preparation. Energy preparation. Emotional preparation. Mental and spiritual.
There’s preparation in the hard (everything I do that is tangible, that can be seen and touched).
And there’s preparation in the soft (everything I do that is symbolic, subtle, part of a process).
All happening at the same time.
A short list of some of the elements in my own preparations:
It all started with the baby blanket.
As soon as I knew I was metaphorically having this baby-like thing, it was clear that toys were needed. Toys!
And reminders.
So I bought us a beautiful baby blanket (yay, Etsy!) and kept it in my workspace to remind me that everything I was doing was connected to bringing this being into form.
Help from metaphor mouse.
Whenever I find myself not wanting to do something, it’s invariably related to internal stucknesses that need attention.
And I often play with words and their meanings as a way to soften resistance, so we have had many visits from Metaphor Mouse, my beloved caped superhero.
Which helped me name things.
Naming things.
Having an attorney was kind of intimidating, which is how my barrister became Jerry the Bannister.
My CPA is a pirate! And even The Playground had already named itself. Fun-brewing instead of “fund raising”. And everyone who was helping me?
Fairy godmothers.
The fairy godmothers!
My group leaders at the Kitchen Table were the first to hear the news, and they immediately formed into the best cheering squad ever.
I’ve been doing huge amounts of energy and emotional preparation with my pretend-sister Hiro, who has been the most amazing source of strength and guidance. As well as my giggling partner in crime.
Many sessions of mental preparation with Carolyn, who has been gently zapping stucknesses right and left.
Then lots of strategic preparation with Pam and Cairene.
And of course I can’t forget Hope, my real estate witch.
And everyone else who is rooting for me.
My gentleman friend.
My favorite uncle.
My friends and clients and students.
My commenter mice and Beloved Lurkers who have been crossing extremities and sending love.
More presents!.
The collecting of literal tangible things, beyond the baby blanket.
Sometimes practical, useful things. With boring names like “beverage dispenser” and “trash receptacle”.
And sometimes symbolic things that provide a sense of protection, safety, specialness. Things to give love. Things to help the space feel loved.
Like this perfect, playful mezuzah that I bought from Jennie.
The singing bowl from Nepal that Hiro gave the Playground.
The pirate ship wheel that you’ll read about tomorrow or the next day.
The asks.
The many Very Personal Ads.
The very first thing I did when it dreamed itself up inside of me was to begin writing it love letters. Many, many love letters.
Tiny ones on post-it notes. And long, rambling ones that took up pages and pages of my notebook.
And then the mind maps and the extravagant Charting of Flow (because of course I suck at flow charts, but if you chart flow than somehow it’s easier).
I gave over my office to Project-ing this. The floor got covered in index cards and maps.
The walls are for the fun-brewing charts.
We arranged for a fake stage so that I could pretend to be teaching at the Playground during my Shiva Nata and yoga practice.
And the play.
The various conversations and negotiations with my monsters.
The figuring out what is stuck, using every technique that I teach.
The Shiva-ing it up to generate hot-buttered epiphanies and surprising insights.
Where I’m going with this.
Oh, who knows. I’m too excited with the waiting to find out if we got the lease.
The lease! The John Cleese! The flock of geese! The queen’s niece! The Witherspoon that is Reese! Oh boy oh boy oh boy oh boy!
But I will say this:
For me, doing things in the soft is just important as taking steps in the hard, and I try to make sure I’m always doing some of both.
Also, this creation is all about play and fun and goofiness. And about how these qualities are part of transforming things.
So I need my process of creation to be an experience that is playful, silly, light-hearted, pleasurable.
Which is hard, because so many parts of the creative process can be so completely painful and agonizing (did I mention the waiting?!)
Reminding myself (several times a day) that the point of a playground is having a place to play (and to ground) has been ridiculously helpful.
Comment zen for today.
You are welcome to bring the baby playground gifts in the form of love and excitement and good wishes.
Because I consider you one of our symbolic good fairies too.
And I’ll just add that I’m not ready right now to hear what-ifs or uh-ohs or anything that isn’t full-on enthusiasm. Because this is my tiny, sweet thing and it is sleeping. Shhhh!
Thank you!