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 #81: how do I look with this monocle?
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!
Hi.
The hard stuff
The February Cranky: still cranky.
I was so sure that it would be better now that I know it’s the February Cranky. It totally worked last week.
But no.
Lots of crank.
Not able to do the stuff that normally gets me out of the cranky.
Screwed up my foot (it’s fine now, no worries) so pretty much everything that makes stuff better was off-limits.
Walking, Dance of Shiva magic, bouncing on the tiny trampoline, swing dancing, a bunch of yoga poses …
Sigh.
Toozday. Stoopid Toozday.
It was overwhelming and hard.
Luckily it ended well.
But man. Lots of teariness and doubt and hating on everything.
Oh, and more systems problems, because we weren’t having enough. Clearly.
To the point that I actually missed a teleclass because I didn’t know I was teaching it.
That sucked. And I felt really bad.
Thank goodness I’ve been in business for enough years that I can write a decent apology letter. Still icky though.
The thing with a systems fail is that it makes you worry about what else isn’t working, and that road leads to all sorts of places.
Hilarious breakdown that was not that funny at the time.
My stuff showed up in a big way and I went off on a crazy long rant about how if I do get the Playground, I will lose my soul.
I’ll be a grown-up. With a mortgage-broker. And how will I look myself in the mirror? And once you have a mortgage broker, it’s all over. I’ll become a Republican. No, a Prussian nobleman. And wear a monocle. And —
And then I had to stop because my gentleman friend was laughing so hard he couldn’t speak.
Did some work on my fear of adulthood sucking all the fun out of my life, and that was also pretty entertaining. I’ll post about it next week.
The good stuff
The Cranky. It went away.
And then one morning I woke up not in a funk.
The Funk of February. The Cranky of the Cranky. Gone. Whew.
Awesome.
And things have been moving. And ohmygosh.
My Very Personal Ad: answered.
I wrote a serious VPA on Monday.
And it looks like (knock on keyboard, please please please), that my wish helped me find the most amazing thing.
I mean, we don’t know if we’ll be able to have it. We don’t even know if we can afford it. Yet. But the kind of place that I want? Exists. And that is big.
Exists. Exists. Exists. Thank you.
Helper mice everywhere.
And some Fairy Godmothers too for my tiny newborn idea.
I have been getting tons of assistance with my Playground from Hiro and Pam and Carolyn and other lovely ladies.
Also, Pam said “Activate your network” and I was all, Huh?! Activate? What? What’s a network?
But then all these people showed up to help.
Every time I have a question, it just gets answered. Before I have time to flip about about how I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know.
It’s the most astonishing, wonderful thing ever.
SUPER POWER ACTIVATE!
The Shivanauts call.
Selma and I taught our once-in-awhile teleclass thing and there were so. many. people.
And smart! And fun! And I got to geek out on Shiva Nata for an hour and it was just the best.
It just managed to salvage all sorts of things.
Drunk Pirate Council!
I need to write a Metaphor Mouse post about how we came up with having Drunk Pirate Council instead of meetings.
But the short version? It makes everything about my life better. I actually look forward to the thing I used to dread.
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?
Pinkie Puncher
You gotta go see them. Well, not them. I mean, it’s just one guy.
And … STUISMS of the week.
Stu is my paranoid McCarthy-ist voice-to-text software who delights in torturing me misunderstanding me. I can’t stand him. And he’s under the weather bed on vacation so I don’t have any good Stuisms for you. I’m sorry!
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.
A tiny, sweet thing.
A baby is a tiny, sweet thing. With tiny, sweet toes.
Pure potential. But completely there.
Babies need:
love, protection, caring, acknowledgment, rest, nourishment, space to grow, quiet, comfort, people to smile at it, more love…
Babies do not need:
noise, pressure, prodding, poking, to hear all the reasons why different aspects of their life might not be so great…
Shhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
When you are getting to know a new idea that has come (or is on its way) into your life, it is a tiny, sweet thing.
It does not matter if it this is a business thing, an artistic yearning, a creative spark, a pull, a book you might write someday, a place you need to go to, your new idea.
It is small and new, and it needs your love and protection.
And sometimes what’s best is for it is to only be witnessed by people who will tread softly in its presence.
Who respect the shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
Who believe in you and in this tiny, beautiful thing.
Protection.
If this extremely small creature is going to grow and become its own being, it needs unconditional love.
And time to catch its breath.
And sometimes that means keeping it apart from anyone who doesn’t understand this.
Hurt.
It’s not that they don’t mean well. Because they do.
Much like the monsters and walls and stucknesses who want only to protect us with their criticism. To keep us from getting hurt.
Telling you all the things that might be wrong with your baby is something they do (mostly) because they love you. They worry about you. They want you to be okay.
You can honor their intention. Or not. Thank them for their wisdom. Or not.
Either way, you still have a responsibility to this tiny, precious thing.
Shoes.
Sometimes it’s people we love most. The ones who love us most.
We want to tell them about our hopes and dreams and worries and loves.
We want to share all of it.
And then these people who love us so much want to jump in and protect us from all the things that could go horribly wrong.
They might not mean to throw shoes. In fact, those shoes might not even be shoes. But ow, they hurt when they land.
And we all know from experience what happens when tiny, little ideas can’t bear that kind of pain.
Sovereignty.
Sovereignty can be an elusive, challenging thing to practice.
Sovereignty is the quality — and the experience — of not giving a damn what other people think because you feel comfortable and safe in your own space.
It’s being yourself and having room to do it in.
It’s a useful thing to work on. And it’s not the easiest thing in the world.
Boundaries.
Sometimes this means not telling certain people about a baby idea until the idea can walk.
Sometimes they can hear about it but they don’t get to give input.
Sometimes you can ask them to write down all their input and give it to you later, when you and your baby are not so vulnerable and easily shaken.
Sometimes you need to be very firm about what is an okay thing to say and what is not. Or asking clearly for what you need and want.
Sometimes you realize you need more people in your life who can say oh wow, look at its beautiful smile, and fewer people in your life who are going to loudly wonder when it’s going to stop looking so deranged.
Space.
Baby ideas need space to grow in.
Safe, loving space to grow in.
Time.
Baby ideas need time to come into themselves.
To be fussed over and flirted with. To be curious about the world.
Love.
If you had a tiny, sweet baby you wouldn’t let people swing it carelessly around.
Or tell you how its ears are kind of weird looking.
Or terrify you with a list of all the things that could theoretically be going wrong with it right this second even though you were just visiting the doctor and she said everything was fine.
Instead, you ask them to give your tiny, sweet thing a little space.
And then you go to your tiny, sweet thing and you whisper to it. And sing to it. And love it. Because it’s yours. And it’s alive. And it will do the most astonishing things.
Maybe it already has.
Comment zen.
There are lots of smart, interesting things that we could say about why feedback is often useful, and why sharing “constructive criticism” can sometimes be useful.
Today isn’t that day.
Today is the day where we say awwwww look at that. Today is the day when we say oh wow you are bringing something into the world — how do you feel?
Today is the day when we are genuinely curious about what we could create if no one was telling us why we couldn’t.
And yeah, first person who asks if I’m having an actual baby gets kicked in the shins.
Item! Trust. Crankiness. Measuring cups.
A somewhat goofy mini-collection of stuff I’ve been reading, stuff I’ve been thinking about and oh, some completely random crap.
Basically the stuff that never gets mentioned here because I’m not the kind of person who can just make some teeny little point. Not into the whole brevity thing, as the Dude would say.
Actually, I’m under the strict compulsion to write ten pages about anything on my mind. So this is me. Practicing brevity.
Still in my February Cranky. Which is somewhat preferable to a full-on February Funk.
But not by much.
Grrr. But hey. Wednesday. So we have Items (Item!).
Item! Post No. 54 in a mostly-weekly series that has me convinced that Wednesday happens way more often than it actually should.
Item! The measure free hippie cook.
Oh this makes me happy.
This site really is called MeasureFreeHippieCook.com. Perfect.
The tagline? Leave Your Measuring Cups Behind & Take Back Your Kitchen.
Which pretty much sums up my entire baking philosophy.
Well, except when I make pita. Then I still measure. But badly. So that counts, right?
“Could it be that … turning the art of cooking into a lockstep scientific exercise alienated us from our kitchens? To the delicious revolution!”
Also: cashew-cilantro pesto. Yum.
Got to this via the wonderful Celeste who is @burnkitty on Twitter.
Item! Tastes like chicken.
My friend Jeff is the funniest of the funniest.
This video of him and Evo Terra being fake social media experts is just delightful. Also, I love how they manage not to completely fall apart.
Jeff, we miss you! Come back for a PDX visit! Pleeeeeeeease?
“Social media kind of tastes like chicken…”
That’s @jmoriarty and @evo_terra on Twitter.
Item! Speaking of metaphors…
Jacquelyn wrote a terrific post about why she does what she does.
I was the marketing, sales, customer service, and billing departments rolled into a tidy little package. Things hummed along quite happily until, of course, one of our customers called to say:
“MY DOCUMENTS WON’T PRINT”
or
“THE MEDICAL RECORDS HAVE GONE MISSING”
or
“MY HAIR IS ON FIRE FROM USING SO MANY CAPITAL LETTERS.”
At which point I would turn to my business partner and say, “I just want to bake pies.”
Okay. She doesn’t bake pies.
But she cooks up a mean metaphor. And she’s great. You’ll like her! A lot.
She’s @jacquelynkitt on Twitter.
Item! Writing about it.
Kyeli wrote about how violating boundaries is never okay.
And about that thing where we go eek and run away because we haven’t figured out what to do when someone is an ass.
I have a lot of thoughts on how scary/hard/challenging it is to know what to say or do in these unexpected moments of uncomfortable and inappropriate.
Later I always come up with a dozen or so of ways I could have responded, and honestly sometimes I wish I had a list.
Or a practice room.
But for now just wanted to say good for you Kyeli for not putting up with this stuff. And for writing about it.
She’s @kyeli on Twitter.
Item! Non-scary law questions for your business.
Rebecca has an e-course thing.
It doesn’t cost anything. And it’s about making legal Stuff not so scary and less baffling.
I haven’t signed up yet (one of the flaws of my no email thing) but it looks like a really good idea and useful service. Rebecca is awesome and I really like her.
She’s @cnsl2creativity on Twitter.
Item! Seriously great stuff.
Next time I run the Destuckification Retreat, instead of having a page about how great it is, I’m just going to point to people like Kelly, who has been blogging up a storm of smart, funny, fascinating content ever since getting back.
I can’t even call it “content” because content sounds kind of boring and this stuff is just hot. Wow.
Honestly her posts are so good that I don’t even know which ones to link to anymore.
There was one about guts that I read three times.
“A friend of mine recently had a close encounter with her gut.
She and her gut had previously related on a strictly need-to-know basis: Don’t ask, don’t tell. If I’m about to run into a wall? Holler. Otherwise, I’ve got this, thanks.“
Ooh. This is also the post where Kelly said, “If direct response wanted to meet for a beer, I would totally be there.”
And then her post about her worst client ever, which is one of the funniest — and most useful — things I’ve read online.
She’s @copylicious on Twitter.
Item! Visual word of the week.
Last week I wrote about Visuwords, which lets you map meanings of words.
It’s gorgeous.
And I have been kind of doing a practice of using it when I am stuckified on something. Just to see what connections are missing.
So this week my stuck thing was a trust issue with someone. I really wanted them to meet a commitment, and wasn’t sure that I trusted them to be able to.
So I looked up TRUST.
Here’s what I learned: one of the forms or permutations of trust is expect.
As in, I trust that you’ll get back to me on this by Friday.
And part of what wasn’t working in that particular situation was me being in sovereignty, and clear about my … expectations.
Anyway. It all got cleared up. But I thought that was kind of a cool little mini-revelation.
Item! Update from the land of the Peculiar & Hilarious Shivanauts!
The “peculiar and hilarious” thing comes from Melynda’s sweet bit about Butterfly Wishes.
Let’s see. I wrote up some unlikely answers to unlikely questions that I’m totally not qualified to answer.
And there is also a new Shivanauts group blog — thanks, Amy for making that happen.
Yay, Shivanauts!
Item! Comments! Here’s what I want this time:
- Things you’re thinking about.
- Things to look forward to in March (forward, March).
My commitment.
I am committed to giving time and thought to the things that people say. Even though asking for what I want still feels awkward for me, I’m just going to remind myself that this is a thing I’m practicing.
That is all.
Happy reading.
And happy Blustery Windsday. But Balmy for Claire, of course. Of course. See you tomorrow.
Metaphor Mouse strikes again! The Tax Cave.
Background: the metaphor technique is something I’ve adapted from Suzette Haden Elgin‘s teachings. It’s a terrifically great tool for destuckifying.
We play with this one at the Kitchen Table and at some of my wacky events. It’s mainly an excuse for me to make my “What’s a meta for?” joke, but the results are seriously awesome.
It’s also how I discovered that I work on a pirate ship. Which helped me deal with my hackers. And with my fear of being beautiful.
Last time we turned my horrid Tickler file into an Iguana Watcher’s Guide. Nice.
No iguana taxation without representation! Unpacking the metaphor.*
* Cough, unpacking IS a metaphor.
So. My secret alter-ego has been Metaphor Mouse-ing my business systems.
Specifically the ones that help me deal with iguanas (the annoying things that I expertly resist doing).
The situation this time? Tis the season of the Dreaded Tax Prep. And the not happening of that. And ugh ugh ugh.
Which means it was time to call on … ta da! Cape-swooshing-sounds! Metaphor Mouse!**
** Again, this is is really just me yelling I AM METAPHOR MOUSE to the tune of Iron Man.
Unpacking my CURRENT relationship with this. (TAXES = ?)
What are the qualities, aspects and attributes of the thing that isn’t working (including what *is* working — if anything)?
[+ should]
[+ stressful]
[+ shame]
[+ guilt]
[+ worry]
[+ what if I’m doing it wrong?]
[+ I don’t want to procrastinate but I also really don’t want to do this]
[+ little kid]
[+ I could get in trouble if I do something wrong]
[+ do not like do not like do not like]
[+ all alone]
[+ I suck at being an adult]
[+ but someone will have to help me and then I’ll feel even more stupid]
[+ waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah]
[+ I do like knowing what the numbers are]
Reminds me of?
When I was little (six?), I was “caught” stealing money.
I hadn’t been stealing it. I had been collecting it (everything from allowance to gifts from grandparents to the pennies and bottlecaps I found on the street) and keeping it all in a large brown leather bag at the back of the closet.
It was fun. Like a game.
Then I was hauled into the living room and given a lecture about stealing. No one could believe that my loot hadn’t been stolen.
And really, they had a point. Why would I hide it in the back of my closet if I wasn’t doing something wrong or if I didn’t know I was doing something wrong?.
I wasn’t able to make my point, and no one believed me, so eventually I just apologized and said I wouldn’t do it again. And then they took my treasure.
Is there a metaphor here?
Ahhhhh. Loot and treasure.
Of course.
So what would an ideal story/situation/metaphor be for taxes? And can I relate it to pirate treasure?
Because that would be perfect.
And learning more about my IDEAL metaphor (X = ?)
What sort of qualities, aspects and feelings does the thing I want contain?
[+ proud]
[+ digging for treasure]
[+ powerful]
[+ the good kind of hiding (not a shameful hoarding but a strong boundary of safety)]
[+ sovereignty]
[+ safety]
[+ trust]
[+ commitment]
[+ gratitude]
[+ ease]
[+ people helping]
[+ but I’m still in charge]
[+ I can ask for help whenever I need it]
[+ it is an honor to spend time with what I have been given and what I have chosen to give in return]
Reminds me of?
It’s a cave!
A Secret Money Cave where it is safe — and desirable — for me to be with my treasures and be present with what I have.
So I think instead of “working on my taxes” …
I am going to Go Visit My Money Cave and spend time with my treasures.
And then I will Take Notes in my Pirate Log so that I can make a Generous Donation, nay, a Tribute to the lands that allow me access to their fair harbours.
And I am going to look for various Clews and Seeds that I can plant to remind me that this is what I am doing.
Also, I may invent a silly ritual that is about grateful appreciation for support in all forms.
Oh boy! I wish I ate chocolate so I could cover my bed with gold-foil-wrapped chocolate coins. That would be AWESOME.
Do we have Lift-off Metaphor?
Whee!
Are we comfortable with this metaphor?
Or do we need an intermediary metaphor to be a bridge (ding! metaphor!) to help you get from where there to here?
No. I think this will work!
Next steps?
Hello, cave. I have missed you.
Reporting back:
I did some pirate iguana chicken stuff iguanability on this one and took it to the Deguiltified Chicken Board at the Kitchen Table.
It was 10:30 in the morning. Prime Visiting The Cave time.
I announced that I was going to light some incense and spread my papers out over the bed.
Committed to keeping this vision in my head. And checking in.
Totally worked.
Took longer than I would have liked. And yeah, some moments of frustration.
The hard was that I still don’t feel very pirate queen-ey. The good was that I didn’t cry or throw a tantrum or yell at my Gentleman Friend.
And the real good is that it’s done. John Donne! Donne! Donne!
Also I made a chart of General DEDUCKTIONS which cracked me up. Yes, it was really funny to be me for about five seconds there.
Would you like to play? Comment zen for today.
As always: We all have our stuff. We’re all working on our stuff.
We share what’s true for us, and we let people have their own experience, and we don’t give advice.
You are more than welcome to mess around with this stuff and share in the comments. Or not. Or you can comment on something else entirely. Selma and I like you either way. Promise.
Note: If you’re new here and you have no idea what I’m talking about half the time, you’re in really good company, it will make sense eventually, I promise. In the meantime, you might want to hang out in the Glossary.
*waves to the Beloved Lurker mice*
Very Personal Ads #33: love letter to a playground
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!
Doing things slightly (okay, very) differently.
Not the usual way of two or three things I’m working on, broken down into what I want, ways it might work, and whatever I’m committing to.
But more like my ask for a place to live. Or that awkward love letter to a possible retreat space. Or my somewhat less awkward love letter to the Kitchen Table.
I also wrote a bunch of stuff that was crazy-meta, because I have been musing about the relationship between internal and external asks, and didn’t do a very good job of clarifying with Claire’s question last week.
So I’ve been trying to document some of the components of the ask … as I ask it. That will have to be its own post, though. Because this one is long. For now, just assume that the purpose of this ask is me getting clarity on what is needed, so that the next steps can happen in whatever way they need to happen.
Dear Destuckification Playground,
My love.
You do not know that you exist yet.
Or maybe you do know.
But I dream of you at night. And I dream of you during the day. And I am so ready for us to meet.
What I know about you.
You are a space.
A space for me and my duck to have some of our wacky events and workshops. To do magic in. To hold things that are strange and transformative and beautiful.
You are special.
You are more than special. You are kooky and strange and marvelous in every way.
You live in a building that is unique. Nothing strip-mall-ey about you. You are one of a kind. And you know it.
More about what you are like and what it is like to be with you.
Your floor is either wood or carpeted. It is easily cleaned.
We can do Old Turkish Lady yoga and non-sucky yoga and unbelievable Shiva Nata madness.
You are — or contain — a wide open space of at least 875 square feet (bigger = yay), without obstruction.
You have the perfect spot for our stage.
You have a lovely bathroom, that is easy to take care of.
The light is beautiful. It is pleasant to be near you.
You are infused with good.
Where you are.
So. You live in Portland, Oregon. Preferably in Northeast.
You are either right near the Kennedy School (Concordia = ideal), so we can put people up … or you are somehow huge enough that we can house people onsite.
You are on a quiet street. Quiet is good. But we still need to be able to stomp around and play music and stuff without getting on anyone’s nerves.
Pluses. We don’t have to have these things but we’d really like them.
You know what would be great?
A closet. That we could use as the Angel Refueling Station (which is kind of like a place to hide or to practice not being seen, or at least having an invisibility cloak).
Qualities.
Light. Safety.
Comfort. Possibility.
Welcoming. Grounding.
Playful. And silly.
Joyful. And wondrous.
Unexpected.
A place where I feel like I belong.
Important things.
You are a space that is all about possibility.
Which means that I have a lot of room to do creative, interesting, unexpected things.
This is not about being a studio. You won’t be a yoga studio or a Dance of Shiva space. This isn’t meant to be a place that has regular classes.
It’s meant to be magical. And special things will happen there when they happen.
You are private. You are for my people. You are not visible to anyone who isn’t invited.
You can move between identities but you are always about play. Sometimes you will be a Biggification Playground. Sometimes you will be a Right People playground. Sometimes you will be a Shivanautical playground. A Writing Letters to Elephants playground.
It will all be awesome.
How this could work.
I don’t know. I don’t even know if you are for lease or for sale.
Nor do I know exactly how we’re going to work this.
Luck? Magic? Crazy coincidence?
Maybe someone who reads this blog knows about you. Maybe you are a space that can no longer be what it used to be (a church? a community center?) and there is now an opening.
Maybe one of our friends or connections has a something.
We can either afford you or something cool happens so the necessary money shows up … or something else entirely.
I’m going to focus on what it’s going to be like to be connected to you, and figure out the rest as things begin to move.
My commitment.
To love you.
To be patient. To appreciate everything about you.
We will fill this space with fabulousness. We will dance up a storm. We will do silly games and non-silly rituals.
You will be a place where the air is different. Where the accumulated effects of yoga and sound and meditation and quality goofing off will create a resonance of everything is better here.
We will never take ourselves too seriously, but we will always treat you with respect and love.
We will hang the pirate wheel. We will toast you with pirate-ey drinks.
We will keep the energy clear. We will de-gunk regularly. And infuse you with belonging.
You are loved and adored already. Just for existing. Even if right now you only exist in my head. I love you.
Progress report on past Very Personal Ads.
Just to update you on what’s happened since last time.
More information about my Big Crazy Idea (see above), despite some frustration. And having a better relationship with the frustration.
More movement — the good kind — on the furniture thing. I actually bought things that totally count as furnishings. And then we rearranged some stuff.
And now our couch is in the kitchen and that makes me very happy.
I also asked for a peaceful solution to the problem that doesn’t seem to have a solution, and it totally resolved itself for the meantime. Awesome and unexpected.
Comment Zen. 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!
- If you live in Portland and you think you might have met my Playground space, please let me know!
- Celebrating with me for this wonderful thing that I want!
What I would really rather not have:
- Reasons why this might not work. This is not the time or the place for that one.
- Practical concerns (“you realize you need X type of insurance because –“). Again, there will be a time. This isn’t it.
- Anything that is going to be a downer.
- Reality theories. I don’t like words like “manifestating”. For me, this is a clarity practice and an asking practice and a “hey, what am I learning about my relationship to wanting things?” practice.
- 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 or psychoanalyzed.
- Advices.
Oh, and I’ll add to that: If you happen to be related to me: as with everything else on this blog but more so, this isn’t open for discussion unless I specifically bring it up and ask what you think. Thanks.
My commitment.
I am committing to getting better at asking for things even when asking is uncomfortable and hard. Whenever I ask, I learn more about what I need and where I get stuckified. It’s all useful information.
Thanks for doing this with me!