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.
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
Personal ads! They’re … personal! Very.
So my itty bitty personal ads made me realize that it’s time to make a regular practice of trying to feel okay asking for stuff.
Even when the asking thing feels weird and conflicted.
Ever since I posted the first one asking my perfect house to find me, which united me with Hoppy House, I have been a fan of the madness that is personal ads.
And now it’s my Sunday ritual. 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
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.
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.
Ask Havi #31: Business advice? Okay.
Note: it is almost impossible to get on the Ask Havi list. This person got in by a. being one of my clients or students, b. flattering the hell out of my duck, and c. making life easy on me by being clear about what the question was and what details I could use.
Oh boy.
This delightfully incoherent question that I may have completely misunderstood totally made my day.
I like this person. You will too:
I kind of want to be you. I mean, I don’t want to be you (though a duck compatriot would be pretty awesome) — but I want a lot of your life.
You somehow manage to be completely insane (in a good way) and make money and everyone knows about you. But without actually like, doing all the marketing stuff that everyone else says there’s no getting out of.
I guess saying “what’s up with that” isn’t really a useful question.
But do you have some Wise And Helpful Things for someone starting out? Not motivational stuff. Most of the time I’m pretty sure I can do this. But where do I start?
Okay. I don’t know how to answer this yet. But some words of wisdom that could pass as business advice?
I’ll give it a shot.
10 possibly helpful things when you’re working on mindful biggification.
And no, I don’t always remember to do these myself. This is all wisdom gained the hard way, yes?
1. Work on your stuff.
And not just occasionally but as the main thing you do. Because:
There is no biggification without destuckification.
Well, there is but it isn’t much fun.
The biggest thing that helps you in business is a willingness to work on your stuff.
And the biggest impediment in business is internal resistance.
If you can work with the what-ifs, the doubt, the second-guessing, and the monsters, everything happens faster.
And when it does, you’ll be way better equipped to deal with it.
2. Be in your body.
Staying connected to your body makes everything easier.
You want your body to be your friend while you’re working.
Sometimes this doesn’t happen. So you come back to it again. And each time you apologize and bring it flowers and eventually it forgives you.
Yoga. Shiva Nata. Going for a walk. Legs up on the wall and breathing.
Massaging your feet. Rolling around on the floor. Putting on music and doing some Dork Dancing. Even for just a few minutes.
But movement. And stillness. With your body.
3. Learn about your patterns.
How they work. How you work when you’re in them.
The best way, in my experience, to learn about patterns and how to take them apart and build better ones is Dance of Shiva. It changes everything.
It’s also how I accidentally became a business savant. If you skip everything else on the list, do this.
4. Be as you as you can stand.
Let the wild rumpus of Deshouldifying begin!
Seriously. I know there’s crazy pressure out there to be “authentic” and “yourself” and other annoying things.
You don’t have to force anything. You don’t have to drag yourself kicking and screaming into the light.
But bring as much you-ness as you can safely handle. And take some excursions to the edge of that boundary to learn about how and when it moves.
Your people will come for the zany or for the quiet or for whatever it is that exists in your you-ness. Because they need it.
5. Trust in your Right People.
Even if you can’t see them yet, they exist.
And they will love it if you let them peek at the things you think.
Which means you don’t have to do stuff that makes you want to throw up.
Because your people, by definition, won’t like that stuff anyway. Speaking of which …
6. Don’t do stuff that feels crappy.
As a matter of principle.
Have a Dammit List. And keep adding to it.
Example:
I will never say anything motivational on Twitter, dammit. Not my style. So I don’t have to.
Makes everything easier.
7. Document the process.
Keep adding everything you learn to that big Book of You.
8. Know what your boundaries are. Even though they’ll change.
It’s a matter of being able to say: right now, in this moment, this is what I feel comfortable with.
9. Avoid being obnoxious to people who can help you.
I don’t mean that you have to suck up to anyone. Because you don’t.
It’s fine to completely avoid biggified people or colleagues who might otherwise be good connections if they don’t feel like your right people.
Just don’t be a jerk. If I have the power to tell thousands of smart, interesting people about how amazing your work is, don’t mess that up by actively convincing me that you’re someone whose work I don’t want to promote.
This should be fairly obvious, but you would not believe how often people screw this one up. Ask Sonia. Or Naomi. Build your own tower instead of trying to knock ours down.
Not that you would do that. Because you are lovely.
10. Let your people in on what’s going on behind the curtain.
In my case, this involves things like:
- talking about when things are hard and what I do when that happens.
- letting you peek at my internal process, even when it’s wacky and bizarre.
- explaining about different aspects of what I do and why and how I do it.
- doing stuff like the Fake Band of The Week in the Friday Chicken, even though it’s funny pretty much only to me.
That’s all I’ve got for now.
The things that have helped me most in business are — weirdly — mostly the ones that seemed like really bad ideas at the time.
Like dumping the noozletter because I didn’t like writing it.
Like going on email sabbatical.
Or turning down opportunities to work with super famous people because I just didn’t want to.
So I guess the real advice is more about the value of developing a sense of trust that what you need is important.
And even though you’re not always going to get things right, you’re learning about what it means to bring your you-ness into the world so that surprising, unlikely, wonderful things can happen.
Whoops. Sorry. Got motivational there for a second. Sometimes you kind of have to.
Comment zen for today.
We all have our stuff. We’re all working on our stuff.
People vary. So use what you can and discard the rest. Try things.
And my wish for you is this:
May your tiny, sweet thing receive all the love and support it needs. And may you break all the rules, do some damage, laugh your head off and dance, dance, dance!
Internal courtroom drama.
Note: If this post makes no sense, which it probably won’t, go read this one.
That post also makes no sense but it kind of sets the stage for this one. No pun intended. Since it also has a deus ex machina and confetti, it’s fairly awesome.
One more thing. “Senegor” = defense attorney.
The trial.
I got a summons the other day.
To the internal court of working-stuff-out.
As usual, I was being called into the division of unresolved resentment, hurt and related stuckification.
I didn’t want to go.
In fact, I may have thrown a smallish hissy fit because you know what, I didn’t really have time for it.
But one of the longest bits in the Book of Me is pretty emphatic about how taking time for destuckifying makes everything else go more smoothly.
So what are you gonna do?
Procrastinate for a while. Screw around at the Twitter bar. And then show up.
The way inner trials work isn’t really what you’d expect.
For one thing, no one’s on trial.
That’s because there’s no such thing as being guilty. Because guilt is not allowed at court.
I mean, you can’t forcibly keep it out. Obviously. But when it shows up, everyone at court drops everything to acknowledge and consciously interact with it until it dissolves into nothingness.
And then the janitor mouse comes and sweeps up any guilty residue and we all applaud.
Not having guilt or having to worry about being judged makes the whole thing better.
Yup. There’s no judge. Not really. And no one you could properly call a defendant.
Just the two sides. Or however many sides are involved. And the witnesses.
Seriously. What’s this about?
I sat myself down in the gigantic throne, smoothed my skirts, adjusted my tiara.
Me: Your Honor.
The Senegor: Your Honor.
We all call each other Your Honor here. It’s fun, most of the time, but it also makes things completely confusing.
Me: So. Who are you defending today? Aside from me, of course.
The Senegor: Who do you see right here?
I look.
It’s me. I’m twenty six years old. On the red couch in my tiny apartment in Florentin. Putting out a cigarette. Trying not to cry.
Me: Aw. Poor thing. That was a hard time. What are you defending her from?
The Senegor: Is it true, Your Honor, that lately you have been telling your various internal parts-and-aspects of yourself that things are going to be okay?
Me: I’ve been trying. Yeah. I mean, that’s correct, Your Honor. Is there a problem?
Things will be okay.
The Senegor: My client feels very strongly about this. We cannot have you or anyone else making this kind of assurance to the future selves of my client, Your Honor.
Me: What’s this about?
The Senegor: Do you or do you not remember telling her at the time that things would be okay?
Me: I did say that, probably. I wasn’t really sure what to say.
The Senegor: And were things “okay”? I mean, I love you, Your Honor. I’m just not convinced that this was necessarily the correct strategy to have taken. She’s feeling really upset because she thinks you lied to her.
Me: Ohmygod. I was just trying to help her get through the hard.
The Senegor: What I understand is that things did not get better. I mean, they did —eventually — but for the next six months or so, they just got progressively worse.
She doesn’t get the job. She loses the apartment. She loses all her money. She loses her friends. She ends up with nowhere to live and no place to go. And that’s just the beginning. Can we really call that “things being okay?”
Me: You’re right. You’re absolutely right. Things were not okay.
Faith. Honor. Trust. Stuff like that.
Me: May I remind you, Your Honor, that this was an especially shitty time? And that you and I were both unable to provide comfort or reassurance in any form?
The Senegor: You’re right. You’re absolutely right. We didn’t know what to do.
Me: And things are different now.
The Senegor: Things are different now.
Me: You know what me-from-then needs? A sense of what things are changing for the better.
The Senegor: You know, I think that might help.
I think about it for a while.
Me: Maybe we can infuse her life with things like faith, honor, trust, love, comfort … so that when she’s ready for them, they can be there waiting for her. That way we don’t have to make promises we can’t keep.
The Senegor: It’s worth a shot, Your Honor.
Me: You rock, Your Honor.
I talk to myself. A lot.
Me: Permission to approach the bench. Granting it to myself. And permission to address myself. I mean, my past self. Granted. Good.
And then I talk to me-from-then, who won’t look at me. Just like then-me who was surrounded by icicles.
Me: Oh, sweetpea. I wish so much I could wave a magic wand and make stuff better for you. Can I tell you some things?
Me-from-then doesn’t say yes. But she doesn’t say no, either.
So I go on:
My love. I was wrong to say that things were going to be okay. Your hopes were raised and dashed so many times. So much hard.
And you turn into someone who is tough as nails from all that hard. I’m not saying it’s worth it. Just that you get a lot of strength from it.
And later on, there comes a time when you need to add things to those resources of strength.
The time will come to learn about stuff like faith. And safety. And trust. And timing.
Because you will have a different relationship with yourself and your stuff. And you will know in a deep, grounded, beautiful way that things are going to be okay. And they will.
This knowing does not negate your pain. It does not contradict your experience. It is a new thing that gets to co-exist with what you know.
You are allowed to have your pain. And you are allowed to have your anger and resentment and hurt. And we can still have this new thing of knowing and trusting and belonging.
Things get loud. And then quiet. And then there’s popcorn.
The Senegor: Your Honor, can you offer my client some more reassurance that she was doing the best she could with the tools she had at the time?
Me: Certainly, Your Honor. That is the opinion of this court.
The Senegor: Then I think we’re done here. Are you going to write about this?
Me: Well, I guess I could turn it into a blog post …
Silence.
Shout-ey voice: Why would you do that? What’s wrong with you? Why would you write about this? This is all a waste of time. And anyway, there’s no point. Nothing can ever really change.
Me: Objection! That’s one of my monsters speaking. It’s trying to make me feel guilty, Your Honor.
Everyone: Hub hub hub hub hub.
Me: There will be no guilt in the court! We need to go talk to it and find out what it needs.
And so we did. And then the janitor mouse came. And then there was much rejoicing. And popcorn.