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.
Calling all Heinzelmännchen!
One of the lovely people in my Kitchen Table program was having a serious hard. She was dealing with too many iguanas at once and everything was starting to be the crazy.
So I said something like awwww sweetie, that sucks.
And then I said:
Sending love and Heinzelmännchen.
And then someone else asked who my Heinzelmännchen supplier is, and if they ship internationally.
I though: whoah, why am I not in the Heinzelmännchen business?!
Because that would be the best.
Heinzelmännchen in the houuuuuse!
Quick explanation.
The Heinzelmännchen are these awesome little gnome guys. Not like the cranky house gnomes in the Harry Potter books.
No. The Heinzelmännchen do all your work for you at night so that you can relax during the day.
Except that they don’t like it when you try to catch them. And then they disappear.
So where do I get me some Heinzelmännchen?
Here’s the plan.
Notice what I need. Ask for what I need.
Write Very Personal Ads.
And long, gooey love letters to things I want.
Find out as much as I can about my relationship to time. And to rest. And to waiting. And to patience.
Because what the Heinzelmännchen do is take care of what you need, and I need to learn more about what that is.
Look for the qualities.
Figure out what qualities I receive when my life is full of Heinzelmännchen taking care of me.
Because that’s what will give me the effect of having them around.
It’s obvious stuff like ease and effortlessness.
But there is also something there about being cared for. About support. About nourishment.
Rest. Appreciation. Love. There might be some love in there too.
So if these are the missing ingredients, how do I bring more of them into my life?
By asking for them. By giving them to myself. By giving them to others. Or wishing them for others.
Become a Heinzelmännchen.
This involves a couple of different things.
I could:
Remember that, as Andrey says, “Morning begins at night”.
In other words: setting things up now to make them easier for when you actually do them.
Like putting a folded blanket on the floor now so that I can’t put off yoga in the morning because it’s too cold outside and I’m too sleepy to come up with a solution for that.
Like writing a list tonight of what I’m going to do tomorrow.
Like what Cairene talks about when she says “create a container”.
It also means doing just one thing instead of falling apart in the face of all those things.
Play!
The Heinzelmännchen get through their work so quickly because they have to be done before you wake up.
So there’s a little bit of that hide-and-seek thing going on.
Playing. And probably dancing too.
In fact, I’m pretty sure there’s also fun music and bouncing and maybe some fist-pumping.
Because Heinzelmännchen are tiny and elusive. Which means they’re kind of like trolls. Or at least related to them. And everyone knows that trolls love trance music. Doonsk doonsk doonsk!
Rest follows work.
The whole point of having Heinzelmännchen is not to do more, but to rest more.
To have cycles. To have a going in and a coming back out.
So there’s no point to my Heinzelmännchen import-export business or to getting stuff done if I’m just headed into that endless cycle of doing.
Stopping = just as important as starting.
You can’t just go.
And there is something inherently valuable in the act of pausing. Of not-doing. Of saying you know what, I’m done here.
Or I’m done for now.
In fact …
The way you come out of something is important.
I saved my yoga teacher “salary” and my bartending tips for months and months to take a training with Dharma Mittra when he came to Israel.
And I learned all sorts of useful and surprising things. But what I always think of when I think of him, aside from his beaming smile, was what he said about coming out of a pose.
He said:
The way you come out of a yoga posture tells you how you were in it.
This was a distressing thing to think about, especially since the exiting of most of my own postures involved flopping, grunting and crashing. Or relief to be done with that horrible thing. Or without much attention to anything.
This teaching was about mindfulness, of course. And grace. But it was also about endings being as important as beginnings.
And about the way you finish work. This is (for me) about finding a way to get stuff done without ending up in a bleary-eyed puddle of internet hangover and thank god it’s over.
I’m putting myself through Heinzelmännchen training.
It involves:
Noticing. Asking. Caring. Loving. Stopping. Breathing. Resting. Remembering. Playing.
And planting surprises for people.
Also for myself.
Play with me? Because I think I’m going to need a … collective.
Also a collective noun.
Because … what do you call it?
An army of Heinzelmännchen? No. Too violent.
A hammering of Heinzelmännchen? A whisking of Heinzelmännchen? A band? A colony? A troop? A consortium? A helter-skelter? A party?
You know, I kind of think it might be a party.
p.s. We should totally start a band called A Helter Skelter of Heinzelmännchen. But of course it would have to be just one guy. Possibly a former member of THRASHED.
A mess of iguanas
So. Background.
The official definition of an “iguana” (as used here) refers to whatever thing you really don’t feel like doing.
Stupid, crappy, annoying things that refuse to stop being things.
I’ve written about my iguanaccountability days. And, most recently, about my gigantic scary pile of iguanas and doom.
And then Holly told me (yes, on Twitter, that’s how people tell me things) that she had recently learned that the proper name for a group of iguanas is a mess.
How ridiculously perfect is that? I love Holly.
A mess. Of iguanas. Yes.
Which sent me on the most delightful wild internet goose chase to find out more.
Note about goose-chasing versus geese-chasing: As soon as you get into collective nouns, we’re talking about a gaggle of geese if they’re on the ground, but it’s a skein of geese if they’re in flight.
I don’t know what the collective noun situation for “wild goose chase” is but I’m going to refer to it as a whispering. A whispering of wild goose chases. Oh yes.
Anyway.
I can’t not share this, of course.
Here are some of the extremely awesome things that happen to perfectly ordinary creatures when they gang up in groups.
It reads like a children’s book. Or the best accidental poem ever.
A rhumba of rattlesnakes
A dissimulation of birdsAn audience of squids
A rumpus of baboonsA knot of toads
A battery of barracudaA streak of tigers
An array of hedgehogsA sneak of weasels
A squirm of wormsA file of civil servants
An army of caterpillarsA conspiracy of ravens
A convocation of eaglesA murmuration of starlings
A badling of ducksA blaze of dragons
You realize where this is going, I assume.
Remember when we named the moons? And then we named the rain?
That was fun.
So of course now I have to come up with collective nouns for everything in my business.
Because I will not be able to get any work done ever again unless I do this.
Shall we?
Yallah.
A gaggle of Glossaries
A flailing of Shivanauts
A whooshing of epiphanies
A scramble of Friday Chickens
A congregation of Chickeneers
A trumpeting of Fake Bands of the Week
An assembling of Helper Mice
A calvacade of Commenter Mice
A den of Destuckification
A swooping of Fairy Godmothers
An invisibility cloak of Beloved Lurkers
Play with me!
I know I’ve probably missed a bunch of things that totally deserve naming.
And you can probably come up with alternative names that beat the hell out of everything I’ve got so far.
Or maybe you want to invent collective nouns for stuff in your own life. Works for me.
A coolness of collective nouns, if you will. A smattering of silliness. A preponderance of puns. A waterloo of wordishness.
Stopping. Now.
I would love it if you would play with me.
p.s. Among other things I’ve learned today? A castrated male sheep or goat is a wether.
Happy Monday, guys.
Very Personal Ads #45: Timing. And simplicity. And elegant solutions.
Personal ads! They’re … personal! Very.
So my itty bitty personal ads made me realize that it’s time to make a regular practice of trying to feel okay asking for stuff.
Even when the asking thing feels weird and conflicted.
Ever since I posted the first one asking my perfect house to find me, which united me with Hoppy House, I have been a fan of the madness that is personal ads.
And now it’s my weekly ritual. Yay, ritual!
Let’s do it.
Thing 1: to be able to TRUST THE TIMING OF THINGS.
Here’s what I want:
There’s a lot that’s undecided right now. And not really up to me. Waiting on other people’s decisions.
I’m ready to get better at actually believing that things are going to work out, and that whatever way that is will be okay. Somehow.
Ways this could work:
It just could.
I could do Dance of Shiva on it.
I could cry some more.
Or I could wake up feeling mysteriously hopeful like I did this morning.
My commitment.
To notice where I am with this.
To not be impressed by the fact that yeah, we’re still working on it.
To be genuinely curious when my monsters show up.
To breathe and write and dance until I know that the right thing is coming.
And if that doesn’t happen, until I remember something else that is reassuring and beautiful and true.
Thing 2: to close the doors to Camp Biggification.
Here’s what I want:
I’m doing work on The Playground this week. We have all sorts of fabulous fun-brewing things going on.
I want to let four more people into the wacky adventure that is Camp Biggification and then close it down.
This week is crazy with teaching and other developments, so I won’t have time to do anything promotional.
So I need the last four lovely people to come find me in the next day or two.
Ways this could work:
It just could.
I could send a letter to my private list of people who are awesome (aka the Hey I’m Doing A Thing list from the events page).
Perfect timing.
My commitment.
An outrageously great experience that changes everything. But in a good way.
To make sure that each person who comes feels welcomed and loved. To be joyful about us finding each other.
To laugh and play and be happy. To find out what kind of pie we’ll be having.
Thing 3: more movement with the Shiva Nata website.
Here’s what I want:
We already made a bunch of changes to the Shiva Nata site.
It’s time for more.
I’d like to write some FAQs without going crazy. And to add a page about the new studio.
To put in updates about the teacher training being full. Stuff like that.
Ways this could work:
I could magically get in the mood.
Or find a window or two this week.
I could dance on it and get some Shivanautical epiphanies about why I’m in resistance.
My commitment.
To put this here as a reminder that it’s important to me.
And then to give myself permission to let things percolate for a while.
Thing 4: a perfect, simple solution
Here’s what I want:
A perfect, simple, elegant solution to this issue that has been costing me sleep.
Ways this could work:
Breathing. Hoping. Wishing. Loving. Waiting. Trusting.
I don’t know.
My commitment.
To keep returning to the possibility that this perfect, simple solution exists, whatever it is, and that it will find me. Maybe it is finding me right now.
Progress report on past Very Personal Ads.
Just to update you on what’s happened since last time.
I asked for faith, and help maintaining it. And that’s definitely been the theme of the week, for sure.
With ups and downs. But always the focus.
Then I asked for a new way to be in the state of waiting for things. And that has been really interesting. I get it in flashes. And then it’s gone. And then it’s back.
Very cool. Will wait and see how this develops.
I needed a name for Camp Biggification (and I got one). Whew. And now it’s time for the next part of that ask to get some attention. Useful stuff.
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 #92: Moonshine Tailbeams Waterloo Jones
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.
It’s been kind of a tornado of a week.
I feel a bit stunned, actually.
Hi. Friday.
We’re here. We’re chickening. Let’s do it.
The hard stuff
A lot of hard news.
Actually, it wasn’t even so much the hard news itself as the back and forth between hard news and hopeful news.
Followed by more hard news.
Huge ups and downs. The hards were really, really hard. And then when it wasn’t hard, everything still felt unsteady. Shaken up.
Related body stuff.
All that mental and emotional roller-coastering isn’t good for the rest of me.
Feeling the wear and tear.
Worrying about my gentleman friend.
He has been having a more challenging time with the hard news.
And then even if I don’t get sucked into the anxiety loop, there’s the loop-next-door of wanting him to feel better.
You know what helps with the hard? Yoga.
And Dance of Shiva. And meditation. And rituals.
Wanting more of all of that than what I was getting.
Especially when it was clear that this is the time to be focusing on the stuff that helps.
Can we move onto the good stuff now?
The good stuff
We got the lease for the Playground!
I know!
EXCLAMATION POINTS!
After three long weeks since making the offer — and months since I wished for the Playground here — we got it sorted out.
Two years of happy play in a gorgeous, perfect space.
I cannot wait to get in there and start decorating for you guys.
A beautiful hopeful unexpected moment of pure possibility.
Among all the hard news, there was this one moment of gleefully good news (which now might not be happening).
But in that moment, it was completely hopeful and beautiful. It was a wonderful, shiny day. I am hoping that it will come back again.
And no, this is still related to the kind of tiny, sweet thing that is a concept. I’m not about to have kids and move to Bolivia.
Staying positive despite all the hard news.
I used every technique I have. And got some Hiro magic.
Letting myself be in the hard without being defined by the hard.
And slowly getting to know that thing called “faith” a little better. Good timing for all of that.
Brunch with dear friends!
Yes!
Literal actual brunch where there are fried egg sandwiches and gooey things made with potatoes. Yum.
Proud momma hen.
Sometimes the member mice in my Kitchen Table program just … step up for each other in the most beautiful ways.
We’re repairing the world in there. It’s just so big sometimes.
Makes me cry.
Progress on updating the Shiva Nata site.
Made a bunch more changes that you might not notice.
Also, we now show up as the number two google search result for “Dance of Shiva”.
Which is pretty flipping hard when you’re competing with things like Wikipedia, physicists, and people writing about Indian art …
Nice. Win for the Shivanauts!
Naming my chickens and iguanas.
Chickens are things I’m working on.
While iguanas are things I’m working on that I do not feel like doing.
This week I discovered that if you name them, they go faster.
Not naming them like “Chicken #1”, though that works too. But actual names. People keep telling me this is crazy, and they may be right. But damn, I got a lot of things done this week once I started handing out names.
My chickens this week were Ralph, Snooky, Nitzan and Dee-Dee Shazam. They were awesome.
And then yesterday my iguanas were Sammy, Thumper, Maudie, Sammy Danger and Moonshine Tailbeams Waterloo Jones.
That last one kind of sounds like she used to play for one of our Fake Bands Of The Week.
Speaking of which …
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?
Inflatable Om.
I loved that one album where they do a cover of the Crocodile in a Turban song.
Of course, it’s really just one guy.
That’s it for me …
And yes yes yes, of course you can join in my Friday ritual right here in the comments bit if you feel like it.
Yeah? Anything hard and/or good happen in your week?
And, as always, have a glorrrrrrrrrrrrious weekend. And a happy week to come.
Where’s Waldo? Inside of a jack-o-lantern, wearing Invisibility Cloak Love Potion Number Nine. Apparently.
Asking the name to reveal itself.
So I was talking to Hiro about my upcoming program-without-a-name that I’m so looking forward to teaching.
And learned all sorts of interesting things.
Hiro said it needed a name.
But then it wouldn’t tell us what it was. It was hiding.
I do that sometimes too.
We let it hide.
Finding the image.
I was describing some of what we’re doing at the event and some of the themes we’ll be dealing with. And she was seeing it.
I talked about the pull between wanting to be seen and not wanting to be seen. About stepping out of those old patterns and watching them turn into something new.
About accessing the kind of visibility and protection magic that lets you be found only by those who are right for you.
About dissolving fear of biggification to the point that there isn’t anything to get in the way of doing what needs to be done.
It was a pumpkin, as it turned out.
She looked at the event and saw a giant jack-o-lantern.
But not a scary one. Kind of sweet.
Demure looking with lowered eyes and a Mona Lisa smile.
Pretty carved patterns, like tattoos. The light radiating out from inside of it, but also contained and held in the sturdy home of the pumpkin.
Sitting on a porch. Radiating light out in these beautiful, cryptic patterns. Invisibly visible.
A conversation with the thing that has no name.
Hiro talked to the event in soothing tones, saying wise Hiro-things.
She was very sensible:
“You know, you can land without having a name. The name will come when it comes.”
And I agreed.
The event without a name did not agree. It had issues.
The event without a name: “I’m not ready! I don’t want to be the first kid on the playground!”
Me: “You’re not, sweetie. I’m holding a private weekend there for some clients. And then the Shivanautical teacher training is the first open-to-my-people thing.”
The event without a name: “But I don’t want it to be like this! I want it to be like Where’s Waldo! It should be like Where’s Waldo!”
Me: What are you talking about?
The event without a name: Where’s Waldo!!!!!
Hiro giggled sweetly.
Ha.
Yes, my event about invisibility wanted to be invisible.
No wonder it wouldn’t give me a name.
It wanted me to come find it.
The finding of Waldo is about mystery, camouflage and play. About hide and go seek. About inviting your people to look for you so that you can play together.
All of which is kind of hiding at the core of what I’ll be teaching there.
Safety. Play. Biggifying your thing through actively being quiet and awesome, not by having to learn to how to get louder.
Instead we’ll be learning about (and experiencing) smart hiding, sexy hiding and the art of hard-to-get marketing. How to do it. And how to destuckify along the way.
Playing with secret veils, magic cloaks, pirate tricks.
Transforming the fear of being seen (and the fear of not being seen) into the ability to shine a strategic light from a place of complete safety.
How to be visible and invisible at the same time. Like the jack-o-lantern.
But still no name.
I knew even more now about the personality of the event-without-a-name.
And about the essence.
Ninja Invisibility Training. Combined with shining your light in a non-cheesy way. Combined with serious safety and protection.
But still no name.
Hiro and I went on one of our adventures and wandered into one of my internal patterns of creating.
And met the dragon who dreams of leaving his horrible cubicle job.
A cave in a cliff on a hillside. Blistering sun outside. Inhospitable.
At the mouth of the cave stands a tired, worn-out dragon. Except it’s not really a dragon. It’s a something. Wearing a ferocious costume.
Now and then it has to puff itself up and breathe fire. It finds the whole thing extremely tiresome. Its heart isn’t in the scaring.
Like one of my monsters, except that it’s in on the performance. A dragon in drag.
What is the purpose of the dragon?
I didn’t get it so I asked Hiro.
She said:
“The dragon is all the drama around creating things that has happened in your life. All the heroic tales you’ve lived through … of overcoming impossible odds and slaying dragons.
It’s been powerful and big. And none of that is real for you anymore.
This whole world of the “hero’s journey” and “overcoming obstacles” is something you’re done with. That’s not how you’re creating now.”
What is the new way?
Hiro says the new way is about wholeness.
It’s about a new kind of power that is gentle and sovereign. It happens without drama and without having to go on big journeys and missions.
I can live with that.
Meanwhile, the poor little dragon clown just wanted to give notice. Permission to leave granted!
Hiro said:
“The truth your dragon knows in his heart is that creation is not a personal act.
It’s just something that’s happening. All the time. And you are a part of it. You participate in it but it isn’t about you having to make stuff happen. So there’s no hero. No drama. No journey.
And he has been playing out his role until you learned that. Which you have.”
So the dragon impersonator really liked this. A lot.
He ripped off his costume and went tearing down the hill butt naked (according to Hiro — I didn’t see any dragon butt) to go play in the water with his friends.
Play! Play! Play!
And then there was a giant earthquake and then some extremely trippy stuff started happening that doesn’t really have to do with the thing I wanted to talk about today so I’ll skip that part.
So back to the event-without-a-name that wants to play Where’s Waldo with me.
The event that I don’t have to create because it already is.
Is your name … RUMPELSTILTSKIN?
Me: What’s your name, sweetpea?
The event without a name: It doesn’t really matter. I just wanted to play with you.
Me: I LOVE playing with you. That’s why I just gave birth to a Playground. To play with you!
The event without a name: Oh. I didn’t know that.
Me: Mmmhhmmm. That’s right.
The event without a name: You could call me Visibility and Protection Magic School! Or what about Enter The Dragon! Or Camp Biggification!
Me: I could call you Waldo Schmaldo Muffin Head!
The event without a name (giggles): Nooooooo. That’s stoopid.
Me: Can it be like the scouts where people earn their invisibility cloaks?
The event without a name: Awesome.
And then it scampered off and hid in the Angel Refueling Station and I pretended I couldn’t see it, even though its foot was totally sticking out from under a cushion.
Until its laughter was so gleeful and so completely charming and irresistible that I had to run after it again so we could play.
Camp Biggification: Earn Your Invisibility Cloak!
Yes, you get your own invisibility cloak. Though keep in mind that it’s … invisible.
And magical, which is even better. It’s reversible and multi-layered so it can help you be both more findable by your people and more protected from anyone who doesn’t need to see you.
It’s a filter. It’s a concept. It’s a charm. And something you’re going to internalize in a deep, meaningful way so you can feel truly safe doing your thing.
It’s also dry-clean only, so try not to get pie crumbs and hot buttered epiphanies on it. Kidding. It’s self-cleaning. Have some pie!
And it’s already half full. Not the cloak. Camp Biggification. You can apply right here if you want to come play.
And comment zen for today …
Dragons! Cloaks! Invisibility!
You’re allowed to want to hide. And you’re allowed to want to be seen. Both of those are fine by me. Always.