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.

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?

Ask HaviNote: 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.

Very Personal Ads #32: rewriting some asks

very personal adsPersonal ads! They’re … personal! Very.

So my itty bitty personal ads made me realize that it’s time to make a regular practice of trying to feel okay asking for stuff.

Even when the asking thing feels weird and conflicted.

Ever since I posted the first one asking my perfect house to find me, which united me with Hoppy House, I have been a fan of the madness that is personal ads.

And now it’s my Sunday ritual. Yay, ritual!

Let’s do this thing.

Thing 1: Rewriting an ask

Here’s what I want:

I asked for movement, fireworks and sparkles on my Big Crazy Idea that came from a Shivanautical epiphany.

And yeah, some progresses have been made. But not what I’d hoped for. Tiny, halting steps.

So I’m going to reformulate the ask.

And make it more about getting out of the way.

Or about recognizing which monsters are saying what so I can listen to them and give them reassurances.

So what I’d like is information about what needs to happen — internally and externally — for me to be able to move forward with this

Ways this could work:

I could do a ton of Dance of Shiva on it.

Or even a little.

I can do some Dork Dancing to let off steam.

And talk to Helpful People. And do some journaling. And call a Pirate Council.

My commitment.

To practice patience.

To be curious.

To interact with my fear monsters and give them space to have their little temper tantrums without thinking that this says anything about me.

Thing 2: FURNITURE. Well, related stuff.

Here’s what I want:

My beloved Hoppy House needs some furniture.

And I have huge issues with giving myself permission to spend money on anything other than the business.

Because my pattern has been investing every penny made right back into The Fluent Self.

Also, all my stuff comes up about “extravagance” again.

So I guess I’m asking for one of two things.

Either:

a. the ability to reframe this whole thing, and to recognize that investing in comfort and stability and support actually IS investing in my business, because my peace of mind is what runs the business.

or

b. the ability to get over this already and just be someone who wants to have a dining room table and can think this is a legitimate thing to want.

Ways this could work:

Not sure.

I don’t want advice. But comfort would be nice.

The ability to give this time would be nice.

Open to some moments of bing.

My commitment.

Making some of the complicated related themes part of what I work on with Dance of Shiva, yoga, writing and whatever wacky rituals I do this week.

Remembering that, given my background and history, this is probably a completely normal thing to be going through and it’s going to be okay.

Thing 3: a solution to a problem that doesn’t seem to have a solution.

Here’s what I want:

Well, either a solution to the problem or for me to stop caring about it.

Ways this could work:

Honestly?

I have absolutely no idea. None.

But I’m open to possibility.

My commitment.

To keep reminding myself that things can change, and have done so in the past.

And that I have useful resources to ground me and keep me strong even when there are things going on that I can’t fix or help.

To sleep on it.

Progress report on past Very Personal Ads.

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

Well, as you know from my first ask today, my Crazy Big Idea is developing more slowly than I’d hoped. Though I’m learning interesting things about why that is.

I also asked for smooth transitioning with some big changes in my business.

The smoothness. It is epic.

Seriously. The smooth transitioning has been about a million times smoother than I’d ever thought possible.

Everything has just fallen into place pretty much effortlessly, and I’m still shaking my head over that one.

And I asked for trust in a challenging situation, and … hard to say. It’s gone better than hoped for in many ways. And I’m still dealing with the repercussions in other ways.

The trust part, though. Very helpful. Working on it. Definitely better at the trusting myself part. It’s the trusting the other people involved that isn’t happening yet.

All in all, useful asks last week. And I will be playing with them some more in the week to come.

And just a reminder:

This practice is about clarity and learning more about my relationship with myself. I know some people see this as a wacky thing or a “law of whatever” thing. You can do what you want with it.

For me, though, it’s about my own process of getting to know how my stucknesses work, so I can try doing things differently.

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.
  • 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. I do not like them.

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 #79: of the what?

Friday chickenBecause it’s Friday AGAIN. And because traditions are important. In which I cover the good stuff and the hard stuff in my week, trying for the non-preachy, non-annoying side of self-reflection.

And you get to join in if you feel like it.

It has been an odd, schleepy little week.

Full of harbor seals and unexpected bridges and coming home.

I am back in Portland now, and really, really glad to be here. Yay.

The hard stuff

Transitions.

And movement.

And traveling.

And headache-ey wanting to sleep all the time.

Boundaries.

The massive shoe of horribleness I had thrown at me last week still unresolved.

Lovely.

Too much happening!

Lots of absolutely brilliant epiphanies from all the Shiva Nata at my Destuckification Retreat.

But then really, really wanting to implement some of that good stuff, and all these other things popping up in the way.

Impatience!

Worrying about things that haven’t happened.

Contingency-planning mode is not really my best space.

Luckily, there was crazy good stuff this week so moving on.

The good stuff

Oh, boy! Post-retreat vacation.

My gentleman friend and I spent four days in Monterey after the retreat was over.

A tiny hotel. An enormous bath. Much walking the beach.

It was excellent.

Really good hummus.

In Monterey. Of all places.

Things totally not being as bad as I think they’re going to be, and really not being bad at all.

When I left to teach the Retreat, there was a semi-huge pile of Stuff I Didn’t Want To Deal With on my list.

Actually, it was a pile of Stuff I Hadn’t Looked At Because I Was Afraid It Would Turn Out To Be Stuff I Didn’t Want To Deal With.

So I decided to save it to be the Stuff I Psych Myself Up To Look At When I Get Back.

And then I peeked. And of course it all turned out to be absolutely lovely things that didn’t involve me doing anything other than saying why yes I’d love to.

Whew.

Must. Remember.

I think I’m over my massage issues? Or mostly over. AWESOME.

After I went through that whole thing about how I don’t like massage, I spent the Seven Days of Destuckification week working on that.

And getting massages. Really good ones. Here. With Caroline. Who is a wonder.

And working on it some more.

So. Not hating the massage. And sometimes even kind of loving it. Progresses!

Yay!

The most genius idea in the entire world.

Thanks to those Shivanautical epiphanies.

I can’t tell you about it just yet but trust me. This is the coolest thing I have ever done. Ever.

EXCITEMENT!

Back home.

Hello there, sweet, wonderful bed. I have missed you. A lot.

Drunk Pirate Council!

See, my duck and I never have meetings because I loathe meetings.

And it’s a problem because I run a business. And meetings are kind of necessary. But I postpone them because they suck.

Now we have Drunk Pirate Council instead and it’s the bomb. I’m actually looking forward to the next one. If the winds be favourable!

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 we have:

Iguanadon of the Dead

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.

  • inebriated chicken instead of “abbreviated chicken”
  • votive enhances instead of “furtive glances”
  • iron hick elements instead of “ironic aerobics”
  • fork dancing instead of “dork dancing”
  • Spanish fly instead of “banish the guy”
  • trunk pyrite bounce ill instead of “drunk pirate council”

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 is the bridge?

So there’s this thing that tends to happen when your brain is all scrambled, which is that the part of you that is excessively sensible forgets to weigh in.

It’s awesome.

Because then you get all the stuff you would normally never say. Much of it surprising. And some of it actually astonishingly true.

You challenge your brain. You cross the midline. You jumble things up.

And then you ask questions to see what you know.

The question I asked last week was a new one. Well, at least I thought it was a new one.

“Where is the bridge?”

Where is the bridge?

Context.

So we were at the Destuckification Retreat and we were doing some Shiva Nata, which is super-smart brain-zapping craziness of the most absurdly wonderful kind.

I can’t remember which day this was. If our practice was silly or deep or completely transcendent.

Or some combination of all of those.

Either way, we were seriously scrambled.

Everyone grabbed a notebook and I started asking questions.

And then we got to the bridge.

Where is the bridge? The first realization.

This is what my challenged-out twisted-around mixed-up brain wrote in response:

“I’m right underneath it.”

Huh?

“I’m right underneath it.

Which is making it hard to see. That’s why I can’t see the bridge. Because my boat is right under it.

I’m passing through this transitional thing so the bridge isn’t where I was looking for it.

And because of the nature of transition, I can’t see that I’m in transition.

But now I know where it is, so I can orient myself to this change. Everything is better when you know where the bridge is.

So. I’m not waiting for it. It’s here.”

Pause.

The silent sounds of synapses connecting.

Snap. Zap. Bing. Zoooooooooooooom.

Got it.

Where is the bridge? The second realization.

Almost as if my pen knew what it needed to say before my brain did.

Everything I wrote was unexpected.

“Oh.

Oh.

The bridge is not only the thing my pirate ship is directly under. It’s also at the front of the boat.

It’s where I should be. On the bridge. Because I am the pirate queen.

But I have been neglecting my navigation because of distractions. Because of pain. Because of survival stuff.

I need to be both more in charge and also more hands-off at the same time.

Which I could do if I were spending more time on the bridge. Of the ship.

Captain! You’re WANTED ON THE BRIDGE!

Like that.

What would the pirate queen do? Be beautiful. Be both visible and invisible. Be on the bridge.”

Where is the bridge? The third realization.

San Francisco.

It was Shiva Nata and some dreams and some stars that took me from Berlin to San Francisco four years ago. And that’s how I met my gentleman friend. Kind of.

Anyway, the first thing that happened right after that? The Golden Gate Bridge told me how sad it was.

Yeah. That was sort of bizarre. Anyway.

So I launched a project to help the bridge. And between my fear monsters and some people in my life who tend to know exactly what to say to encourage those monsters, the project died.

It died the sad little death of all projects that aren’t fortunate enough to have someone to believe in them.

I spent Christmas Day on the bridge. And then that was it.

But what my synaptically-super-connected brain was telling me was that the project was not gone. Not forgotten. It had just morphed into a brand new thing. A new incarnation.

That what I was doing now was helping people find bridges. Make connections. And not just in the brain but everywhere.

Where is the bridge? The fourth realization.

Right before San Francisco, a bunch of real-life things conspired to make going there actually possible.

And one of them was someone from there who came to one of my very first workshops and asked me about the bridge.

He was talking about a linguistic bridge. A metaphorical bridge. A conversational bridge.

But of course he wasn’t. And my brain finally figured it out.

Last week. On paper. As a buzzing whirring mass of tiny Shivanautical epiphanies began whizzing by almost too fast to catch.

The bridge in question was the question.

In other words, asking where the bridge is turns out to be the thing that helps you find the bridge.

Bridges reveal themselves when you ask them where they are.

And why ask?

  1. it is useful to know what you are currently between.
  2. it is useful to know what your options are for making connections between here and there.
  3. just like how (very often, at least) there is no shoe, sometimes there also doesn’t need to be a bridge — but it’s hard to realize that without asking.
  4. once you know where it is, you can reposition yourself in relation to it.

You can change your orientation.

Back to the bridge.

The bridge is where I find the midpoint.

The bridge is where I say this is what I’m feeling and I give myself permission to feel it.

The bridge is the part of my ship where I belong.

Where I know what is mine and what is not mine. Where I can make the big navigational decisions and also the really tiny ones.

And all of that is a fragment of what my brain told my fingers to tell my pen to spill into my notebook after fifteen minutes of Shiva Nata and one question.

Comment zen for today.

Would you like to play? Yay. Play with me!

You are more than welcome. You don’t even have to be a Shivanaut. You don’t have to do or be anything.

Except ask where is the bridge and then write down what comes to you.

You can also not play. Or play and not share. Or comment about something else entirely. I don’t mind. My duck and I like you just as much either way.

The only big thing is that this is a safe space to play, which means we don’t throw shoes, and we don’t give advice. I’m going back to the bridge to have a tea.

The Fluent Self