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.

Sneaking into visibility

The super short version of this post:

  • Being visible and putting stuff out there = terrifying. But also appealing.
  • And all sorts of biggifiers yell at us to hurry up and get big. Gah! Stressful!!!
  • However, there’s a Very Useful Piece of Truth hiding under that pressure.
  • We can take that part and toss the rest.
  • Things that help sneak around the scary so you can uh, have your safety and eat it too.
  • Some stuff about popcorn machines and mustaches and pirate monkeys.

This is on my mind a lot and now more because — excitement! — Camp Biggification is coming!

Being visible and putting stuff out there = terrifying.

So … you resist bringing your thing and your you-ness into the world because it’s freaking scary. Me too. Sometimes.

Totally legitimate.

And then we go more into resistance because there is so much pressure to do it already.

When our desire for the safety of invisibility runs smack into our desire to be seen by the people we want to connect with, we get stuckified.

There’s a way to sneak around this problem, but it can take time to get there.

Partly because of the biggifiers.

The biggifiers. They do a lot of yelling.

You know how it is. It’s supposed to be “motivational”, although it usually doesn’t motivate me to anything other than feeling crappy.

get out there what’s wrong with you be bigger be louder get over yourself why waste your life on fear sign up for my special asskicking service come on you can do it what’s stopping you the time is now go go go go

Of course, for some people this is useful.

And if it happens to work for you, rock on. People vary. So if this is what “lifts your luggage”, as Dan Savage would have us say, that’s great.

Some of us can’t get very far with this school of thought, though, because it doesn’t acknowledge the scary, hard and painful bits involved in stepping out into the sun.

And because it doesn’t recognize that feeling safe is a legitimate value.

Safety is important.

It just is.

You can’t function correctly if you don’t feel safe. You can’t learn, or grow, or be totally you.

And you do not need to be dragged kicking and screaming from your comfort zone. You’re allowed to expand your place of safety instead of forcing yourself to leave it.

You’re allowed to want to feel safe. And there are ways to build in safety and protection to everything you do.

At the same time…

There’s a beautiful, important truth to what the biggifiers are yelling.

And we need that truth too.

Here it is.

As I’ve said in the Blogging Therapy series:

There is generosity in allowing yourself to be seen.

You do not have to be seen by everyone. You’re allowed to find your own way — and your own safety mechanisms (from invisibility cloaks to invisibility hacks).

But it’s vital that you stop hiding from your right people. Because they need you.

When you take that risk and agree to let your right people see you, support shows up.

Becoming more visible to the people who need you the most is what helps you grow.

And that’s the way to nourish a business or a writing career or whatever it is: with safety, love, passion and fun.

And now I’m going to break my own rule and say something motivational.

Actually I’ll just repeat something I said here in ohmygod, February 2008:

You have spent your life accumulating the ideas, information and experience that have made you who you are. You are not serving anyone by keeping yourself small.

Of course it’s scary. Of course you are allowed to have the fear. Just remember: keeping yourself small is not helping anyone; it’s only struggling with your path.

There are people in this world who need exactly what you have. They need your gifts as those gifts are right now. And they are actively looking for you.

They are wondering where on earth the person is who can give them the thing that you have to give. It’s not fair to them that you’re in hiding.

You don’t need to shout from the rooftops, you don’t need to accost anyone or sell to anyone. All you need to do is put up a light so that the people who are looking for you can be drawn to you.

You don’t need to shine your light for everyone. You just agree to shine for the right people. But if you don’t turn on the light, the people who need you can’t find you.

It’s not about claiming that you’re better than anyone else. It’s just about letting your light have a place too.

Yes.

Sneaking into visibility

So. We have to find ways to connect the good parts of visibility to the good parts of invisibility — in a non-scary, mindfully biggifying kind of way.

That means the shining your light part and the being as YOU as you can stand part.

While still getting to keep the I am allowed to feel safe and supported and do things at my own pace part.

Here are the four best sneak-arounds that I know of:

1. Finding your Right People.

Because when you only have to show yourself to them, everything gets safer and easier.

Right People and getting them to come to you — we’ll spend an entire day of Camp Biggification on this. This is what I call the art of hard-to-get marketing. Fun stuff.

2. Accessing safety.

Finding comfortable, unlikely ways to put your stuff into the world, without having to be seen by people who don’t need to see you. We’re devoting the second day to that.

3. Getting out of isolation.

As Barbara says, “isolation is the dreamkiller”.

And as Hiro says, “isolation perpetuates the fear”.

So part of mindful biggification is learning both how to connect to your internal resources and to create an external support network of people who believe in you but won’t make you feel bad when you get stuck.*

Once you have this you can run around in your pajamas yelling things to yourself like ACTIVATE THE NETWORK and it’s awesome.

* Yes! This is what we’re doing the LAST day of Camp Biggification. Without pajamas. Unless you want to wear pajamas, which is completely fine by me.

4. And making it fun.

I so wish you could see my notebook of scribblings for planning Camp Biggification. I’d post pictures but my writing is unintelligible.

It’s just full of craziness, wackiness, wall-talking, meditations and silliness. And excitement for the first thing we’re doing at the Playground.

My notebook says things like this:

Okay. We need a great big circus tent! Of safety!

Hard hats. Metaphorical popcorn machine. Zap the cape.

The announcer needs a handlebar mustache. The ushers should definitely be pirate monkeys. In striped vests! Eating things on sticks.

Eeeeeeeeee! I love this!

Anyway. When you figure out how to have fun with the process of creating (at the same time as you’re making room for the scary and the hard), weird, magical things happen.

What I wish for you.

A spark of possibility.

Room to breathe, grow, experiment, change things at your own pace.

And a sense of what it feels like when visibility helps you feel more safe rather than less so.

It’s a ridiculously counter-intuitive concept, so that’s why I’m wishing you the sensation of it — in the hope that the rest will grow from there.

(And if you can make it to Camp Biggification, it would be a joy to have you there playing with us.)

Comment zen for today.

Mindful biggification is challenging.

And this being seen / not being seen stuff can be super trigger-ey.

So we tread gently with our stuff and make room for people to have their own experience. Big love to all the commenter mice, the Beloved Lurkers and anyone else who winds up here through the magic of the internet.

The Secret Life of Burnout

Right now it seems like most of my friends and clients are in various stages of that uncomfortable, unpleasant, overwhelming thing that is being completely burnt out.

Burnout. Ugh. Being in it is sucky and terrible.

We know that. From ridiculous amounts of experience.

And so, when it shows up AGAIN, we start guilting the hell out of ourselves about aaaaaagh how we could have let ourselves end up here again.* And that’s too bad.

Because important things happen when we get to a state of burnout.

That’s the thing. Burnout is important. Not even slightly fun. But important. And normal. And sometimes even useful.

* I can’t remember if I’ve written about this before, but “again” is one of the words our monsters like to use.

Things we forget about burnout.

Burnout is part of life.

You cannot learn where your limits are except by exceeding them.

We learn to recognize the edges by visiting them.

And those boundaries change. That’s part of being alive.

So every once in a while, even if you’re cautious and intelligent and have a conscious relationship with yourself and your stuff, you’re going to get burnt out.

Because you’ll be testing those edges and end up on the wrong side for a while, until you carve out recovery time.

That process of venturing out and coming back is part of being alive.

Burnout shows you what needs to happen for you to take care of yourself.

Not necessarily when you’re in it, of course.

Because being burnt out is just a horrible sensation. You can’t really think straight when you’re depleted. Everything gets an extra layer of fuzzy. Yuck.

But as you begin to make rest and recovery a priority, you collect information about how you got into this and how you’re getting out of it.

You file that stuff in the big Book of You. Add some more things to your dammit list. And then some more.

As I said to one of my friends the other day:

This is not the last time you’ll burn out, sweetie. But it’s the last time you’ll burn out like this.

Burnout leads to discovery.

These are my edges.

This is where I fall apart.

This is what I need.

This is how I protect myself.

This is how I treat myself with love.

This is what hurts.

This is what pulls me out of myself.

This is what returns me to myself.

Knowing what my internal space looks and feels like is sovereignty, and it helps me not care so much about what other people think.

Burnout is weirdly necessary.

Remember last year when I worked myself to the bone and then had to go on Emergency Vacation because if I didn’t stop everything right that second I was headed for a serious breakdown?

Remember Selma the Duck and the Big Day Off?

Remember when my arms went on strike because they needed me to work less? With those hilarious signs that said No More Pain!

None of that was fun.

Each of those things taught me incredibly useful things about capacity.

Everything I know about my capacity and what I need to do to respect it has come from those dark days of burnout.

Depression burnout. Crisis hair-on-fire burnout. Falling down tired burnout. I know them all.

And you can’t biggify without learning to respect your capacity. Because part of mindful biggification is being able to say no to things that don’t support you.

You first learn what those are through getting it wrong. Ow. File under: useful experience.

Bottom line. Or: how I approach the burnout thing.

Burnout is inevitable. So my approach to it can’t be just how to avoid it. It has to be about discovery:

As in:

What do I learn when I’m in it? And what personal and systems changes need to happen so that the next time it’s a different experience?

Because my goal is not to be done.

What I’m really working towards is this:

The next time you show up, Pattern of Burnout In My Life, I’m going to know more about you, recognize you sooner and be less impressed by the fact that you exist.

Not being so impressed with being in it is part of what makes it easier to deal with burnout. And it makes the getting out of it considerably more doable.

Comment zen for today …

Man. Burnout sucks. It just does.

So you’re allowed to hate it. I’m definitely not trying to convince you to appreciate it or feel all grateful for it or anything.

We’re always allowed to feel what we’re feeling. That’s a given.

In the meantime, we all have our stuff and we’re all working on our stuff. So we try to be understanding about that. Which means appreciating other people’s hard (and our own) and not giving unsolicited advice. Kiss!

postscript: Update on the Playground! The ceiling is painted. The stage is built. Phase Two of the fun-brewing to commence shortly. Thanks for all the love and well-wishing!

Turning a word into a spell.

But first: an example. The art of stopping.

Stopping — as in, being in a state of intentional not-doing — is not really something that just happens. Most of us have to learn how to do it.

And the learning of it takes time.

It’s a progression.

You assimilate bits and pieces of practice, information, concepts, trust — adding layers of physical, mental and emotional experience until this turning everything off becomes familiar and automatic.

Shavasana.

I come from the yoga world, so this practice is kind of my sandbox, but most of my people don’t have that type of background.

So when I teach Shivanautical wackiness or Old Turkish Lady yoga as a part of a workshop or retreat, resting after the practice is something that requires explanations.

Try this. Try that. What happens when you do this. What happens when you do that.

It becomes an experiment. Something we get to mess around with. I love this.

When I teach Shiva Nata in a yoga studio, though, all I have to do is say the word.

Shavasana … and everyone collapses instantly, their brain seamlessly issuing commands to the nervous system, muscles, bones. Their bodies expertly performing hundreds of tiny adjustments without having to give thought to the process.

Because they’re right there in it.

One word becomes an incantation.

When you’ve spent so much time with a word — and the depth of concepts and experiences behind it — just hearing it or saying it zaps you right into the state being described by it.

That’s when it becomes a spell.

Every time you say the word, you are invoking its essence.

You are conjuring up both the experience and its attributes.

You’re summoning both the container and the contents. With one word.

We can do this with any word. It just takes time.

I did this with LOVE. The word, I mean. But also the experience.

When I started working with this about six years ago, my heart was broken broken broken.

I tried all kinds of heart meditations but at first I couldn’t feel a thing.

Then the word evoked a tiny, beautiful heart swimming inside of this giant warzone of another, larger heart.

This evolved — eventually — into a big, happy heart with a small, jagged, injured one on the inside.

And now LOVE is just my heart. It’s a place I can go to be at home.

If I say “LOVE“, I can be in it. Love for myself, for my internal world, for my gentleman friend, for my business, for connection, for deeper, more mysterious things.

But when I began, love was an abstraction. It had something to do with all the pain I was in. But it wasn’t a word that brought me into a state of being.

That’s where the practice happens.

Right now I’m working on “trusting in the timing of things”.

TRUST.

And when it comes to TRUST, I am exactly where my students are when they experience shavasana for the first time.

It’s new. It’s uncomfortable. There are so many little things that need to happen and I’m not always sure exactly where they are.

I have to stop and start. Stop and question. Stop and feel into what this trusting thing is.

I’m not yet at the point where the word TRUST instantly puts me into brain-tingling, heart-centered, grounded, delightful reassurance.

But I know it’s there.

And I know I will get there.

So I’m practicing.

When I say TRUST now, it’s not yet an incantation.

It’s just a word. That symbolizes an experience. That I’m in the process of learning about.

This post isn’t about the how.

We can go into that in a later installment.

For now I really wanted to introduce the concept.

The idea that, over time, you can expand a word into something that holds a thousand tiny movements, actions, shifts, associations.

So that by saying it (or even thinking it), you can plug right into everything it contains.

Comment zen for today…

We all have our stuff. We’re all working on our stuff. It’s something we’re practicing.

We’re here to acknowledge each other (and our own stuff), not to give advice or to tell people what we think they “should” be doing. Internet hugs all around.

Very Personal Ads #46: circus chickens jumping in and out of windows

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 it.

Thing 1: Finish the next chunk on this project I’m working on.

Here’s what I want:

We’ve been gearing up to announce Stage 2 of the big party that is the Fun Brewing.

And there is so much left to do.

I need all sorts of things.

In the hard, I need sit down and do the work.

And in the soft, I need to believe that there will be enough windows of time. I need faith. Faith, resilience, love, support, certainty and a big dose of sovereignty.

Ways this could work:

I’m not sure. That’s kind of why I’m asking.

Hoping that this week will show me how it could work.

My commitment.

To stay open to possibility.

To pay attention to what I need and when I need it.

To remind myself that I don’t have to figure everything out right away.

Thing 2: Windows! But figurative ones.

Here’s what I want:

To find bits and pieces of time for my fun brewing project. To create windows and then use them for good.

If I can squeeze in four to five hours on this in the next couple of days, we can announce all sorts of exciting things. And I would like that.

Ways this could work:

By committing to my intention to carve out this time, the windows might just appear.

Or maybe I’ll just get better at noticing what a window looks like.

Or I could put on my sovereignty boots and let magic happen.

Or I could make wise, capable decisions about what other things have to go.

Probably a combination of these would be good.

My commitment.

To pay attention.

To meet myself with love when I can. And to be understanding about it when I can’t.

And to picture all my chickens jumping in and out of windows with grace and ease.

Thing 3: To be cool with the not knowing.

Here’s what I want:

There are still so many unresolved things right now.

I’ve gotten way better at trusting in the timing of everything, and not being on the anxiety rollercoaster.

And now I’d like to just get to the point where the not knowing isn’t such a big deal.

Ways this could work:

The usual suspects: yoga, meditation, Dance of Shiva.

I could untangle some stuckified patterns around this. Or just come to an understanding. Or talk to the me who cannot bear to not know. And find out how I can help her.

My commitment.

To be curious about every aspect of the process

Thing 4: Shivanautical epiphanies

Here’s what I want:

There are several … challenges I’ve been dealing with lately.

And by dealing with, I mean: pondering, mulling over, chipping away at.

And it’s as if I’m on the cusp of some understandings that will help me with this situation, but not quite there yet.

So I could really use some help from the thing that charges my crazy superpowers (and yes, that would be Shiva Nata).

It’s time to deconstruct some patterns so I can see what’s really going on here. And to do that, I need to change up my practice.

Ways this could work:

Super fast. Super slow.

I could go back to some levels that I don’t do very often. Like Level 6.

Devote more time to it. Work with an intention. Do some writing with it.

Create rituals.

Dance it up.

My commitment.

To do the Dance of Shiva in every single room in my house.

And at the Playground.

And in the woods. And in the park.

Under the sky. In my head.

To dance dance dance until this is done.

Progress report on past Very Personal Ads.

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

I asked for help trusting the timing of things. And that went significantly better this week so yay for that.

And then I wanted to close the doors for Camp Biggification, which didn’t happen. Which was very interesting. Looks like I have some internal stuff to sort out about this program before I can do that.

More about that later this week, probably.

My third ask was about movement with the Shiva Nata website. And it totally happened. Still a lot to do, but progress. Yes.

And then I wanted a perfect, simple solution to a complicated problem. And I don’t know if I’ve received it or not. But I’m feeling weirdly confident that it’s going to be okay.

All in all, useful asks.

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 (can we avoid 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 #93: an intrigue of spies

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.

Friday!

Chicken. Warm hellos to the Chickeneers of the High Seas, as our Lucy says.

Let’s do it.

The hard stuff

Business screw-up.

That was totally my fault, which makes it even more annoying.

I had been working on a promotion for a thing. And it was taking time because it involved all this structural think-ey stuff.

In the meantime, my First Mate on the pirate ship was waiting for me to okay an email broadcast to a group of people waiting to hear from me.

And we crossed wires. And he thought the thing I needed more time on was the thing that everyone was waiting for.

So an important message went out like five days late and I feel like an ass.

I know these things are just part of running a business but oof. So. Frustrating.

Pain! And way too much of it.

Okay. Don’t freak out because I’m fine.

But I sort of sprained my mindfulness muscle and fell on some stairs.

Again, I’m fine. That’s the good. The hard is that my entire left side is bruised. And ow.

The thing I was hoping would be resolved this week not being resolved.

Yet.

Getting slightly better at the waiting thing.

But it still sucks.

No, really. I am not good at waiting.

The piece of good news I was hoping for by the end of this week (like, today)?

Will not be coming — if it comes — for another week. Gah.

I’m either going to fall apart completely (fun!) or I’m going to have to learn to be patient (what?!).

And I really don’t know about the learning to be patient thing. Also, if that ever happens they’ll totally make me give up my Israeli passport.

My roller derby addiction bumping into real life.

I have a big thing this weekend that I’ve been looking forward to for months.

But there’s no way in hell I’m missing the bout with Rat City.

Forgive me, dear Seattle readers, but watching our Wheels of Justice wipe the floor with your skaters twice in the past two years has been pure joy.

And now it’s our second WFTDA-sanctioned bout and I am going to be losing my voice and Selma is going to be squeaking madly.

So we’re going to have to skip a big chunk of the thing we’ve been looking forward to doing for six months. Because I’m sorry, this is un-miss-able.

Blah. Choices.

The good stuff

Teaching.

Makes everything better.

Feeling mysteriously hopeful.

Still.

Summer showed up.

Sun. And the irises.

Gorgeous.

Walking around with the gentleman friend and Selma, and pointing at everything beautiful.

People love the monster coloring book like you would not believe.

I need to put together a results page because the results people are reporting are just beautiful.

People freaking adore the monster coloring book, and I could not be happier about this because I poured serious love into that tiny, sweet thing even though I wasn’t actually sure that anyone but me would want it.

Yay.

Hiro’s class on Internet Hangover.

The one I (nicely) bullied her into teaching.

Man, she’s good.

Drunk Pirate Council.

Beats the pants off of “meetings”.

We got crazy stuff done this week.

Moving into the Playground. Slowly but surely.

We got the keys.

Things are moving. Slowly. But it’s happening.

Sing ho for the Playground. My sweet baby love.

Discovering that I’m not the only person obsessing over goofy collective nouns.

After my silly mess of iguanas, concubinage of collective nouns post on Monday and much goofing off, I heard about all sorts of related craziness.

Including the fact that there is an actual Collective Nouns website that collects collective nouns that show up at the Twitter bar with the #collectivenouns hashtag.

With gems like a savory of chefs, a referral of umpires, a clot of vampires and an intrigue of spies. Love.

Yes, you can follow @collectivenouns. I kid you not.

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? It’s none other than ….

Floppy Poppy and the Jalopies

Formerly known as Fuzzface Alexander Bottoms (just one guy), they’re now two guys. But they’re breaking up and throwing a farewell concert for each other, which means… you guessed it. 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