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.
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!
Friday Chicken #80: Recovering from the February Cranky
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.
Eighty Chickens. Yeesh.
Time flies when you do a completely non-interesting thing every week.
Oh, my lovely Chickeneers of the High Seas! Unite in the crappiness that is February Cranky.
Because I have a serious case of the February Cranky. Which is why there is a helluva long section of The Hard this week. Sorry about that.
The hard stuff
Oh, more business systems stuff.
Finding so many places in my business where I haven’t been on the bridge. And now big fixing to do and not in the mood.
Routines not happening.
I was a bit worried about keeping up with my daily hour of relaxation/nudity practice (which I was sure wouldn’t happen) while away on Retreat.
Weirdly, it wasn’t even an issue. Until I got back. When everything went to hell.
Ugh.
Changes, uncomfortableness, being flustered, more monsters.
Between the system changes and the adjustments, we’ve had a bunch of things kind of … out of order. Like the way an elevator is out of order, not like a filing cabinet.
Though, yeah. That too.
And I was teaching a Kitchen Table class about monsters and then had to deal with a bunch of stuff not working in the middle of teaching it. And gah. Not. Fun.
Worrisome conversations.
Do not like.
Ow. Head. Coordination. Floor.
Got all dizzy at Lindy Hop class.
Mostly because my gentleman friend forgot that I have to spin about seventy thousand times more than he does. And partly because I forgot to remind him.
Super-duper headache.
Overbooked.
Again.
Monsters overload! Total sneak attack!
I’m pretty good with negotiating with my monsters and meeting them where they are.
But a bunch of them showed up at once on Toozday, and there was a real Crankypants moment.
The neighbor’s dogs.
Are sweet and gorgeous and will not stop barking. And they are driving me out of my mind.
The good stuff
Finally realizing that all this crap was related to the annual February Cranky.
That was a huge relief and I was able to calm the hell down, and get out of bed and other Useful Things.
Phew.
Taxes done!
I am a happy pirate queen now that the biggest headache of the year is done.
And meeting with our pirate CPA this afternoon.
Except he doesn’t know that he’s a pirate.
Which makes me giggle every time I think about it.
Another excellent Drunk Pirate Council.
Given that I’ve spent the entire past year doing everything in my power to avoid having meetings and postpone them whenever possible, this is pretty outstanding.
Not only do I not postpone Drunk Pirate Council, I actually looked forward to it all week.
Being metaphor mouse.
Thanks to the lovely, lovely metaphors, I have been getting massive amounts of things done.
Big Shivanautical epiphanies.
Still getting my ass — mostly metaphorically — kicked by the fabulous Dance of Shiva and writing down as much as I can.
Fabulous office chair makes life better.
*wiggles toes*
Cairene.
My beloved Cairene MacDonald is the great fixer of systems.
I got a genius coaching session from her this week and she made everything better in about fifteen minutes.
The good that comes from post-retreat Cranky February depression?
A really good dammit list.
All sorts of things going on there now.
Effortlessness. Unexpected and awesome.
Two potentially hard things resolving themselves easily.
Much to my astonishment.
And other good things!
I baked some mostly excellent pita bread. Yum.
And Anna was visiting! And dinner with Denise. And Roller Derby tomorrow night!
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?
Monster Ambush
They’re playing in town all week. Except that it’s really 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.
- boast repeat Hank’s February obsession instead of “post-retreat Cranky February depression”
- Sapping on Wicker instead of “Zapping the Tickler”
- kelp me heal with iguanas instead of “help me deal with iguanas”
- hex draw mix pettifore instead of “extra mixed metaphor”
- compass daisy good-for-nothing mod of pathetic who’s her dump instead of “dumb-ass lazy good-for-nothing model of pathetic loserdom”
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.
I am metaphor mouse! Zapping the Tickler.
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.
And 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.
In which we do some unpacking (metaphor!) of a metaphor, because unpacking metaphors is the bomb (metaphor!). And I’ll stop now.
So.
I used the metaphor technique about seven hundred times this week, and the most amazing things have been happening.
My plan was to write some of the more astonishing ones up for you, but then I decided to start by sharing a really mundane example.
Because it’s nice to work on something that isn’t the big, crazy existential crisis sometimes.
And it’s still a good way to practice turning something that sucks into something that doesn’t. Which is always kind of nice.
The situation.
I’ve been spending the past few weeks working on and off on revamping some of my business systems.
Specifically the systems that help me deal with iguanas (the annoying things that I expertly resist doing).
And I’m playing with using a Tickler File — you know, a A-Z or 1-31 file where you temporarily put a piece of paper you’ll need later for future reference.
You can file it by date (that’s what the 1-31 is for) or if you’re me more of a word person, you can file it by name (A-Z).
Except I do not like the word Tickler. Not even slightly.
And guess what? I don’t like it, so I’m not using the thing, even though the thing is supposed to be helping me.
Cue metaphor mouse music. Which is really just me yelling I AM METAPHOR MOUSE to the song I am Iron Man. Clearly.
Metaphor Mouse’s mission.
This “tickler” thing needs to be rewritten.
We need a metaphor (or a something) that could work with — or at least not clash with — my hey-look-my-business-is-a-pirate-ship metaphor.
Unpacking my CURRENT relationship with this. (TICKLER = ?)
What are the qualities, aspects and attributes of the thing that isn’t working (including what *is* working)?
[+ useful]
[+ reminder]
[+ information doesn’t get lost]
[+ tickles]
[+ irritating]
[+ do not like being tickled]
[+ not me]
[+ stifling]
[+ like being in school]
[+ should should should]
[+ yells at me about my iguanas]
Reminds me of?
Someone poking me. Poke poke poke poke poke poke poke poke.
Is there a metaphor here?
Not entirely clear on this yet. Something about school. Kind of like a big pile of homework that screams YOU SUCK all the time.
Or maybe it’s just the poking thing. Like an alarm clock that won’t go off but also isn’t getting me out of bed.
And learning more about my IDEAL metaphor (X = ?)
What sort of qualities, aspects and feelings does the thing I want contain?
[+ useful]
[+ reminder]
[+ important things don’t get lost]
[+ steady]
[+ possibility]
[+ gentle reminders that don’t poke]
[+ clarity]
[+ magic]
[+ calm]
[+ contains information]
[+ effortless]
[+ holds my iguanas for safekeeping]
Reminds me of?
Not sure …
A dictionary?
A book of spells?
A cookbook?
An iguana hostel? A petting zoo?
Ooh! Like a bird-watchers guide for iguanas! And chickens! Which are actually birds!
A book that you keep on the bridge of the ship so you can identify things.
Do we have Lift-off Metaphor?
YES! It’s my Captain’s Edition of the Iguana-Watcher’s Guide.
And on the ship it will be referred to as the I.W.G. (because event though I always say to beware the acronym, internal use is okay).
Are we comfortable with this metaphor?
Or do we need an intermediary metaphor to be a bridge (ding! metaphor!) to help you get from there to here?
No, I’m good. Thanks.
Next steps?
Labeling the thing-formerly-known-as-Tickler (shudder) as the Iguana-Watcher’s Guide.
And decorating it!
Also, I think I could spend twenty minutes filing things since it would be useful for them to be in the Iguana-Watcher’s Guide and not on my desk.
Note to self: we need a new metaphor for “filing”. Next time.
Would you like to play?
Oh good.
Here are the steps that I use. Which you can absolutely use, change or ignore as you see fit.
Get centered so you can focus.
I usually use three minutes of free-form dancing for this or one of my emergency calming techniques. You can use whatever you like. Or skip this step entirely if it stresses you out.
List the qualities, aspects and attributes of the thing that isn’t working.
It can help to put a star or something by the ones that you do want to keep.
I usually ask: How does this feel? What does this remind me of?
Make a list of what you do want (your ideal state)
This is the X = ? thing.
You keep the parts of the old thing that do work, and you add whatever qualities would help you have a good relationship with this.
Also considering: How do you want to feel? What will it look like/sound like/feel like to be there? This is what helps you identify a possible metaphor.
Try it out. See how it feels. Check to see if there are any stowaways (metaphor!) that might trip you up (extra-mixed metaphor!) later. And if so, try something else.
What needs to happen to move from Thing 1 to Thing 2?
Is there some kind of bridge that’s needed?
Or is knowing about Thing 2 enough to get you headed that way?
What are the next steps here?
Comment zen for today.
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 which means that we don’t give advice.
You are more than welcome to play with this and share some of that in the comments. Or not. Or you can comment on something else entirely. My duck and I like you either way. Promise.
Item! Horse quartets? Not even the weirdest thing I obsessed over this week.
It is February 16, 2021, and someone just sent me a link to this blog post I wrote on February 10, 2010, nearly exactly eleven years ago, asking me to update a link in it.
The way I like my box of in is empty, and in an ideal world I only receive deliciously good news.
Anyway, I reread the post and didn’t like it. Not sure what me of eleven years ago was up to. And while I have an enormous amount of love for her, we don’t share the same interests.
So I deleted. And should you find it, now you get this note from the future, pls feel loved & adored from the future!
If you want to read what I’m up to lately, try this.
xox
Ask Havi #29: Getting up earlier?
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.
Here it is:
“Hullo Havi! I’m after some advice and inspiration on getting up earlier to have more time to do things I love in the morning — gots any?”
Oh boy. Do I have stuff to say about this.
Let’s do it. As is usual with the Ask Havi posts, expect a bunch of random points in no particular order, that — she types hopefully — might eventually come together to form some sort of cohesive whole. Or not.
A big (the biggest?) mistake when trying to change a habit.
Too much at once.
If you’re currently getting up at ten past seven and you want to be getting up at five, the worst way to do it is to say I’m getting up at five, dammit. Or else!
That way lies madness. And guilt. Lots and lots of guilt.
And shoulds. And self-thrown shoes.
That’s two hours and ten minutes to beat yourself up about each day. And beating up? Not the most effective thing in the world.
Incremental change is way less violent.
For example?
One day of getting up at 7:07
Two weeks of getting up at 6:55
Two weeks of getting up at 6:42
One week of getting up at 6:33
One week of getting up at 6:17
One week of getting up 6:08
And by that point, deciding to start your day eight minutes earlier is nothing.
It will probably take way less time than what I’ve outlined here, but this is the non-scary version.
Incremental change: note 1
Your monster might say that this is stupid because it takes five weeks and if you weren’t such a dumb-ass lazy good-for-nothing model of pathetic loserdom (okay, that might be my monsters), you could just get up at five tomorrow.
Here’s the thing to tell your monsters:
They are probably right that there are shorter ways to make this change happen. But those ways are not happening.
So you can keep doing the old, familiar thing of feeling horrible about yourself (which official studies of your life have shown totally doesn’t work) …
… or you can spend five weeks practicing in a more gentle way and actually get there.
Incremental change: note 2
Some people really, really resist the idea of incremental change (see the stuff people yelled in the comments section of my post about how I quit smoking), to which I say:
Rock on.
People vary. And that’s a given. So if you personally can’t make peace with incremental change, skip it.
We’re talking about the principle of you having conscious interactions with yourself, not about me pushing any specific technique — go ahead and ignore what doesn’t work for you.
Dissolving the guilt.
Guilt is the great stuckifier, and dissolving it is a big part of interacting with any pattern.
One of the best ways to start with that is just by noticing it’s there.
Whoops. There you are again.
Hello, guilt. You are not the essence of me. You are not the whole of me. You are a temporary part of my experience, and I am learning what I can about you and what you need.
A useful thing for the guilt (and any form of internal resistance, actually) is using even though sentences to sidestep the hard parts.
“Even though I really don’t want to get out of bed, I am allowed to be in resistance. It makes sense that part of me doesn’t want to get up earlier.
“Even though I am feeling hugely guilty (or annoyed or frustrated or anxious) about not being able to shift this yet, I am human. It might take me a while to shift this pattern, but at least I’m learning about it.
“Even though all of my internal thoughts are totally contradictory because one monster thinks I suck for not wanting to get up and the other monster insists that I can’t get up, I am allowed to have contradictory thoughts and desires.”
Morning begins at night.
This is something I took from my teacher, and it has helped me tremendously.
So at night you plant seeds and clues and reminders for your morning.
Maybe this means a sticky note on your alarm clock that says hello my sweet, remember that you wanted to spend fifteen minutes doing some yoga?
Maybe it means setting up the thing you wanted to do in the morning beforehand, so it’s all ready for you if/when you crawl out of bed.
Maybe it means figuring out what will make it easiest for you to get up (warm socks on your nightstand? a light in the bathroom?) and making sure it’s there for you.
Patience: not the most fun thing in the world.
And at the same time, it can be kind of useful to remember that change doesn’t need to happen right this second.
If this pattern has been around for years and years, it can take a while until you learn whatever needs to be learned for it to change form.
That’s normal. It’s not a sign that something is wrong with you.
The thing that Dance of Shiva (which is all about the science of patterns and how they work) has taught me about patterns is that they are their own cure.
Like homeopathy.
The thing that moves a stuck pattern is introducing another pattern into the mix. And when that one becomes automatic and ingrained (which it will), the whole thing starts again.*
* Except that now each time it’s a tiny bit easier because there’s less resistance to letting one thing become another thing.
Stopping here for now.
Holding back the idea flow, because I think this is enough information to assimilate right now.
The more time you spend with both the parts of you that want this new thing, and the parts of you that are grieving the loss of what is familiar and comfortable, the easier it gets to move things.
Because rewriting patterns always involves an element of loss. One thing goes so the new thing can come, and then that new thing will go so something else can come.
And loss is hard. What are you gonna do? Even when the thing you’re losing isn’t what you want, there’s still a hard.
And hard wants love.
So. Giving love to all the hard. And reminding you (okay, reminding myself) that being in this thing of interacting with ourselves is way more important than how we get somewhere or how long it takes to get there.
Comment zen for today.
We all have our stuff.
We’re all working on our stuff.
We’re practicing.
p.s. One more thing!
The once-or-twice-a-year no-cost class thing that my duck and I lead on rewriting patterns is coming up soon. If you have thoughts on stuff you’d like us to cover (or a theme?), you can drop a note in the comments.