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.
We interrupt our scheduled programming.
Okay. We interrupt our scheduled programming because I absolutely have to share with you this conversation I had with my gentleman friend yesterday.
Man, I love it when someone asks a question that’s so completely reasonable to ask, but the answer is so completely … obvious (you know, to you) that it never even occurred to you that someone would be curious about this.
Blows my mind.
Context?
This came up because of the Destuckification Retreat I’m doing in Monterey.
This is something people have to apply for. I’m very picky about who gets in.
And, even though I haven’t even announced it yet and just sent one paragraph to my “Hey, I’m doing a thing” list last night, we’ve already received applications. For more than half the spots.
At this rate, we probably won’t even get around to announcing it.
My gentleman friend thought this was bizarre. Very, very bizarre. Dialogue loosely translated because we were probably drunk tired, and I can’t remember exactly how it went.
It went (kind of) like this.
Me: What?! What’s bizarre?
My gentleman friend: I don’t get it.
Me: What do you mean? You know my duck is a rockstar. People travel for hours — days — to be able to be near Selma. Remember when Sanders flew in from Nigeria for our weekend in North Carolina?
Selma: !
Me: See? Selma loves Sanders.
My gentleman friend: Oh, it’s not that. Clearly I’m not unaware of your awesomely insane pirate-ey cult following. I pick up your mail. I just don’t understand why people go on retreats. What’s up with that?
Me: Oh.
And that’s why there’s this post today instead of what I was planning on talking about.
It turns out there are all these things that people-who-don’t-retreat don’t get about retreats.
Things that are so important and that I completely take for granted. So I’m going to share some bits of our conversation, and hope that at least three things will surprise you.
Reasonable questions. That I never even think about.
This is super interesting.
Reasonable Question #1: What is it about being there?
My gentleman friend: It’s not like there’s a shortage of teleseminars in the world. You and your biggified friends are always doing them.
Me: And …?
My gentleman friend: So why would someone want to pack bags and book a plane ticket and have to actually go to a thing?
Me: You do realize that I just did that when I went to Barbara Sher‘s retreat, right?
My gentleman friend: Yeah, but you’re not like other people.
Me: Don’t I know it.
My gentleman friend: No, I mean, I totally get that you wanted to meet Barbara. You’re crazy about her. Justifiably.
Me: Yup!
My gentleman friend: And I know your sneakified brain. You knew that if you met her in person she’d write a blurb for your book, and happily biggify you.
Me: Okay. All that is true. Going to a retreat to make an impression on a beloved biggifier is a totally reasonable thing to do
But what I’m getting here is that you maybe haven’t experienced the difference between distance learning and in-person learning when the person you’re learning with is really good with … can I use a word neither of us will like?
My gentleman friend: Are you going to finish that sentence?
Me: I can’t think of a non-California way to say it. Oof. Stuff like “holding the space”, “creating the container”, “working with energy” … but I don’t like any of those phrases.
My gentleman friend: That thing you do when the room gets all buzzy and tingly? Like the crazy force field effect?
Me: Yeah.
Reasonable Question #2: But why is that so important?
My gentleman friend: Okay, so that’s a cool experience but I still don’t get why it’s so important that you would go on a retreat.
Me: I love how you say retreat the way I would say dead fish.
My gentleman friend: And you adore me for it.
Me: Right.
My gentleman friend: What I’m more curious about is … what is it about this experience that matters?
Me: Well, there’s something weirdly magical and transformational that happens when you go to a space with that kind of person.
It’s like a ritual of transition.
With a huge amount of power in it. If you put a week of your life to doing nothing but being in that transformational experience, and you’re doing it with someone who is brilliant and fun and has great material, you come out having shed a skin.
You’ve walked into this version of you who knows how to access more of your you-ness. It’s still you, but now you know what you need and how to get it.
My gentleman friend: Wow.
Me: Yeah.
Reasonable Question #3: But the money!
My gentleman friend: It’s still crazy how much of a financial investment it is, though.
Me: Mmm. Not really. And I’m saying that, even remembering all the years when I couldn’t even consider putting money towards anything that wasn’t food or rent.
My gentleman friend: What makes you say that?
Me: Two reasons. One is that the kind of transformation that happens in that kind of environment is really intense. Things happen quickly, so much more so than however many years of therapy or coaching are going to get you there.
My gentleman friend: And?
Me: The second thing is that you always make money from going on retreat, if you do it right?
My gentleman friend: ???
Me: You meet people. They either buy your stuff or help you create stuff or tell people about your stuff.
My gentleman friend: Really?
Me: Dude. You live with me. Alright. Examples.
Examples.
Me: Listen. Half the people at Barbara’s retreat ended up buying one of my products after we got home. And three of them are applying to the Kitchen Table.
My gentleman friend: How did you manage that?
Me: I didn’t. I have no idea how that happened. I didn’t go there planning to have people buy my stuff — I didn’t even talk about my stuff, other than mentioning that it existed when people asked me how my business works.
But yeah, I’ve more than made back what I spent on plane fare and the hotel.
My gentleman friend: And when you taught at Jen’s Writer’s Retreat, everyone there went home and bought the Shiva Nata Starter Kit. I guess that counts.
Me: Pffffffft. That’s nothing. One woman I met at a thing a few years ago has spent $13,000 in my business. The thing we met at cost $900. Remember?
My gentleman friend: No. But I remember that being a terrifying amount to spend on anything. Of course if I’d had any idea that the connections you made there, I probably would have insisted that you do it.
Me: You did insist.
My gentleman friend: I did?
Me: Yeah. You knew I really wanted to do it.
My gentleman friend: smiles
Me: The truth is that every product and every course I’ve done have come together because of the help of fabulous people I’ve met while taking someone else’s program. It’s like, the best bonding experience in the entire world.
My gentleman friend: And other people do this too? It’s not just you?
Fine. More examples.
Me: When I was at Jennifer Louden’s retreat, there were a bunch of my Kitchen Table people there. And when I taught my retreat in North Carolina, there were also a bunch of Kitcheners there.
And they’ve started joint-venture-ing up a storm, except they wouldn’t call it that. But they’re teaching programs together and promoting each other’s things in this really sweet, organic, beautiful way.
My gentleman friend: Okay. But they already kind of knew each other, through you.
Me: Right, but when they start doing this “hey, let’s biggify each other” thing at the retreat, other people see them do it. And then they start doing it. It’s stunning.
My gentleman friend: So you’re basically saying, don’t go to a retreat for the content. Instead, go to hook up with the biggified person teaching it and to make monies either from or with the other people in it.
Me: I’ve actually already made that point in a post a while back. But yeah. That’s a great reason to retreat.
Well, that and the insane transformational experience that makes everything in your life way, way better.
And the support network of people who really get you.
And the hilarity that happens when you’re an adult who gets to go to what’s basically a week long slumber party.
My gentleman friend: You are a very odd person and I like everything about you.
Selma: !
Me: !
That’s it.
I hope some of this was interesting. If not, then hey, you got a peek into my strange little life.
And a bit of my philosophy of retreating (not the same of my philosophy of run awaaaaaaaaaaaay! which is also a very good philosophy).
Comment zen for today?
Same as usual. We all have our stuff. We’re all working on our stuff. We’re practicing.
Ooh. More ways to use the Dammit List.
Note: this may be the stupidest blog post title I’ve ever come up with.
Sure, I avoided the cliched (and highly recommended by nine out of ten experts, me being the tenth, obviously) of giving a number:
“8 ways to blah blah blippity blah”.
But only barely. It still sounds like an especially terrible book title.
“101 Ways To Use The Dammit List For Fun & Profit … On A Rainy Day.”
And yet, here we are. I’m not going to change it because this post really needs to go up already. But yes, the title is a disgrace.
Oh, right. An explanation.
The dammit list is … any and all of the things you stand for.
Things you care about enough to put a dammit on the end of the sentence.
When I was a bartender in Tel Aviv, I only had one thing on my dammit list* which was nobody gets to touch me — ever, dammit.
* I hadn’t come up with the concept of the dammit list, but dammit I would have had it on there.
Many of the people I worked with had significantly more rules and higher standards than I did.
(I don’t work double shifts, dammit. I don’t make coffee for the boss, dammit. I get to wear whatever I want, dammit.)
And I admired them for it. Even if I couldn’t take a stand myself.
It’s useful to know your dammit list. And I want to talk about why that is. Some points? I shall make some.**
** Some of these are business-related or biggification-related. And some completely aren’t. Anyway, you guys are smart. You can figure out how to apply this stuff.
Your dammit list helps you speak to your Right People.
Because it’s about who you really are.
I work with a duck, dammit.
I write ridiculously long posts, dammit. And that even though pretty much everyone I knew told me it was the blogging kiss of death back when I started. It’s not.
I do extremely wacky things, dammit. I won’t hit you on the head with woo, but yes, there will be a little. Dammit.
Bottom line:
Every time you share more of your fabulous you-ness, even when it totally doesn’t feel fabulous because it’s kind of embarrassing — the people who need to be around you are drawn to that.
Your dammit list can be part of what makes you irresistible to the people that will be the most fun for you to interact with.
Your dammit list forms the basis of your red velvet ropes.
And your red velvet ropes are everything that makes it easier for your Right People to say yes to your thing.
I only work with people I like, dammit.
If I want to teach Old Turkish Lady yoga at a biggification retreat, I’m going to, dammit.
Your dammit list is where you get your systems. And your policies.
Systems and policies are the bomb.
Because they’re all about healthy boundaries.
Systems let you grow and change. They let people know what to expect from you. They let you turn the thing you do into something that sustains you instead of something that drives you freaking batty.
My first real business policy showed up a couple years ago, straight from my as-yet-nonexistant dammit list, when I stopped doing freebie 20 minute consultations with potential clients.
I don’t remember what brought on the decision.
It could have been my time is extremely valuable, dammit. Or maybe more of an I don’t need to let people interview me, dammit thing.
Or something completely different.
It doesn’t matter. I don’t have to, dammit.
Your dammit list allows you to not do things that don’t feel right for you, without having to explain yourself.
Okay. I don’t put things on sale, dammit.
Not because I’m a diva.
But because I personally would feel annoyed if I bought a cool thing online, and then a few weeks later it was half the price because someone’s nephew had a birthday or something.
Because I believe that prices have resonance, dammit.
Because I have no patience for things that create additional admin work, dammit.
However, once I figure out that this is my rule, it is what it is. I don’t need to add a section to my store-like thing, saying that stuff isn’t going to go on sale. It just doesn’t.
Your dammit list does not need to impact anyone else’s dammit list.
If you choose to put stuff on sale? I will still love you.
If you choose to do freebie client intake sessions? Awesome. It’s your thing. Do what you need to do.
My dammit list is about me. Your dammit list is about you.
We can both be lovely people (and smart, quirky, goofballs! and friends!) even when stuff on our dammit list is radically different.
That’s because of the sovereignty thing. There is room for your you-ness and for mine. We don’t need to be in conflict.
Speaking of which …
Your dammit list is the basis for a Sovereignty practice.
Sovereignty, if you recall, is the concept I borrowed from Hiro.
It’s the spiritual quality of not giving a damn what other people think, dammit.
It’s owning your physical, mental and emotional space. Your body. Your time. Everything in your life that you get some sort of a say in.
When you put stuff on your dammit list, you are practicing sovereignty.
You are reminding yourself that the things you know and want are important. That there is room in the world for your needs.
Your dammit list is a work in progress.
One of my Kitchen Table people asked:
“Can we put things on our dammit list even if we don’t feel ready to actually enforce them yet?
Like, one of my personal manifesto points would be about never working for The Man again. But, umm, I’m not ready to walk out of my job now. But it still definitely belongs there.”
Absolutely.
You can even have a Transitional Dammit List if you want (and an Ideal Dammit List for later).
Or it can be more about principles:
“I get integrity, dammit! I get respect, dammit! And when I’m ready to do my thing, it will include not every having to work for the Man again! Dammit!”
You really don’t have to include stuff that doesn’t fit now. Or you can choose not to have to enforce some of your dammits yet.
Your dammit list is for you, so build it however you like and in whatever way helps you feel the most safe and supported in this.
Your dammit list in your personal life.
Your dammit list can help you find a partner, decide who gets to hang out with you, and what you choose to do with your “spare” time.
It can help you make decisions about how to handle family stuff.
It can help you make compromises or find middle ground.
For example, I know that not going to Thanksgiving or Christmas at the in-laws/un-laws needs to be on my dammit list.
But I also know that spending time with them in a non-stressful non-holiday setting is something that is really important to me and to my gentleman friend.
So we visit them in between the holidays, and it’s absolutely lovely. We get to compromise, dammit. We get to find a third way, dammit.
Your dammit list and conflict resolution?
This one definitely needs to get its own post. Because I know a lot of you are wondering what happens when your dammit list runs into someone else’s.
The thing is, there aren’t that many things that are so hugely, hugely important to us that we will not compromise on them.
So if you’re going to have to do some creative problem-solving with someone, it’s really useful for them to know which are the things that absolutely cannot budge.
Because everything else is negotiable.
Crap. Too much to say.
Okay. I was going to end with a list of some of the dammits that I love.
But I’m going to stop here instead and do that some other time.
In the meantime, if you need Dammit List inspiration, read some of the comments on the original post.
There are some excellent dammits there. Quality dammit-izing.
Comment zen for today.
You’re more than welcome to leave your dammits, transitional or otherwise in the comments.
And I want to say this: it’s a super hard topic. Lots of trigger-ey stuff.
Especially when there is stuff we want on our list that we can’t justify having there yet.
Or when we feel stifled and frustrated, because other people’s dammit lists have seemed to have more power than ours.
Or when we feel anxious that if we start having a serious dammit list, other people are going to get really pissed off.
So I want to acknowledge all that hard, and also to reassure you that this is all stuff we’ll be talking about in other posts.
We all have our stuff. We’re all working on our stuff. We’re practicing.
That’s it!
Very Personal Ads #22: holiday list. Not mine.
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 this thing.
Thing 1: the zone (again!)
Here’s what I want:
To move through some of the fog.
To deal with some uncomfortable situations.
To trust myself and go with what I know.
Ways this could work:
Crazy shivanautical epiphanies from doing Dance of Shiva.
Remembering to stop working. A lot.
Long walks. Insights on long walks. Or in the shower.
Remembering to follow my own advice.
My commitment.
Doing the best I can.
Thing 2: Sovereignty, baby.
Here’s what I want:
The short explanation of the sovereignty thing is not giving a damn what other people think because you’re owning your space, your body, your life.
The short version of the situation I’m in right now is that two people owe me a chunk of money, and they don’t seem to want to do anything about it.
So what I want is to get better at standing up for myself and being really firm and clear about what needs to happen.
But while not getting sucked into bitter/angry/depressed mode.
And I want these two situations to get sorted with ease. And a simple resolution that doesn’t piss me off. Would be nice.
Ways this could happen:
I’m open to perfect, simple solutions.
I’d like a big, crazy dose of the sovereignty stuff (or to get better at connecting to it).
Basically, something that can shift this pattern of feeling sorry for the other person involved to the point that I don’t take care of myself.
Also, a holiday could be nice.
My commitment.
To give a clear ask with a clear deadline. And to be strong.
To pay attention. To call a time out for myself when I need it.
To stop and regroup. To give myself full permission to not like things the way they are right now.
Thing 3: HOLIDAY LIST!
Oh yes.
I was going to write a whole post about businesses I support.
Because if people are going to be getting stuff for the holidays anyway, they might as well know about businesses that are Havi-approved as being cool.
But then I didn’t.
So I’m writing a mini-personal-ad for them.
These are some of the businesses I’d love to see thrive this year. My sincere hope is to see them biggify in a safe, comfortable, enjoyable way. Yes, that is my wish.
And if you’re looking for cool stuff? This is the place. Yay.
Best. Socks. Ever.
Oh, I am a fan. Sock Dreams.
Portland company, woman-owned, completely awesome. This is where I buy fansocks for people I admire.
Sovereignty spray.
And Healthy Boundaries. These crazy, wonderful sprays from Deborah are weird and fabulous.
Love them.
Alima.
I’m not such a huge make-up person (surprise!) but I am mad about this company.
No chemicals, all gorgeous, they recycle. And they’re in Portland. So they’re also shockingly nice. Sparkly!
Yarny-ness.
I already talk about Tara the blonde chicken all the damn time so there isn’t much else to say.
Other than my god have you seen her yarn? She makes it. I know! Plus now she has the Learn to Knit kit so really, there’s no excuse. How are you going to make me fansocks if you don’t learn to knit?!
Necklaces.
I love this typewriter necklace from Insane Jellyfish Designs (who made my beautiful Pirate Queen chain).
And there are totally great lockets from Locket 2 You (look at the elephant on the bicycle!)
Wonderful body things.
I get Lisa’s magical salts for soaking.
And am in love with creamy, healthy, happy stuff from Dress Green.
Also got some good things from Aquarian Bath.
And I know Heidi will be biggifying this year with her excellent Aardvark potions (I’ve gotten samples and they are fabulous — pay attention to her!)
Learning things.
Obviously I approve of my own Non-Sucky Yoga package. Good gift for yourself.
You can also give the gift of Wendy — tech support and wordpress stuff. Good if you’re at the start of the biggification process or know someone else who is.
Or you can learn about yourself and good ways to do stuff differently. I know lots of good coaches, and since my waiting list is a million miles long, let me recommend some people I think rock:
Re: Stuff for me.
Oh god. Please don’t get me stuff for Hannukah. I wrote about this last year.*
* Just reread this and realized I’ve repeated some recommendations. That made me smile. Guess the good stuff is still good.
But while we’re on the subject, if you must send me presents not at holiday time, you can’t go wrong with fansocks. Or supporting knitters (I approve of ball of yarn and pixie bell).
That’s it.
Also, in case you (or the FCC) are wondering, none of these people/businesses have any idea that I’m promoting them and no, I don’t get anything from them in return.
Progress report on past Very Personal Ads.
No major updates since last time.
Let’s see. So I asked for Right People for my fabulous Destuckification Retreat, but I haven’t officially announced it yet. They’re probably waiting in the wings.
And I had an ask about not feeling bad about wanting a vanity table.
Still no table (though the gentleman friend found some excellent possibilities), but I don’t feel even slightly bad about wanting one. So in that sense, a shift. Yes.
And I talked up Tara’s Learn To Knit Kit, and a bunch of people became Blonde Chicken fans. Which is a good thing. Whew.
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. And that way, if you feel like leaving one (you totally don’t have to), you get to be part of this experiment too. 🙂
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.
My commitment.
I am committing to getting better at asking for things even when asking feels weird.
Thanks for doing this with me!
One more thing!
So yes, I say this every week, but here’s the weird thing: I mean it.
When I say no advice, I really, truly don’t want advice. If you want to share your related story, rock on. But that’s it. Give me advice and I’ll kick you in the shins.
Friday Chicken #69: had to happen eventually
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.
Whoo. Chicken. And enthusiastic hellos to the various, Chickeneers of the High Seas, as Lucy says.
Also, every once in a while someone reminds me that it can be kind of intimidating to join the mad rush of Chicken comments. So I just wanted to say that you are loved and adored whether you comment or not.
And that the people here are just about the loveliest ever, so wander in if/when you feel like it and it will be beautiful.
The hard stuff
Still working too hard.
Especially since this year I’m trying to plan the whole year out in advance, instead of my usual let’s see what happens wheeeee kind of thing.
Too much. Ow.
Feeling deflated.
This is related to the “too much” part.
Ugh.
Understanding the effects of terrible decisions.
It sucks.
Feeling vulnerable and not trusting.
Sites being down on and off all week.
Completely fist-shakingly frustrating.
American Thanksgiving this week.
What can I say, I just don’t like it.
Me, reading the New Yorker: “Man, these people will not shut up about loving Thanksgiving. Where are all the people who don’t like Thanksgiving? Where are my people?”
My gentleman friend: “Come on. It’s not that you don’t like Thanksgiving. You just don’t like people.”
Either way.*
*CIarification: I do like the nice people who invite me to Thanksgiving. I just don’t do well with Thanksgiving itself.
The good stuff
Giving myself permission to skip Thanksgiving.
That was good.
Oh, the sweet people in my life.
Last week was so full of horribleness.
And so many people wrote sweet letters and sent cards to tell me about how reading this blog has done crazy, wonderful things for their lives.
It was amazing.
Usually Selma gets all the fan mail, and then people are all oh, hi Havi. Which is fine. I mean, she is the cute one.
But it was just so sweet to encounter this overflowing mailbox of thank-you-ness.
And Char sent the most lovely care package ever, and I feel completely … cared for. Awesome. Thank you!
Sites working again.
My Kitchen Table people were very kind and considerate about containing their freaking-out while the Table forum environment went down during our tech crisis.
And they were pretty hilarious when it went back up again.
Since, if you listen to them, they’d apparently all been rocking back and forth in a corner sucking their thumbs waiting desperately for it to come back.
You know you run a cool place online when people say things like this after it disappears for a day:
Oh, massive sighs of relief and joy! Now for a big slurp of Kitchen Table moonshine to quell the jitters and DTs of not being bathed in loverly smartnesses and ninjas and hookers and chocolate cake-fights.
It really was awful to have a day of things Not Working, and I was suffering mad withdrawal too, but seeing how over-the-top happy everyone was when it came back?
Nice!
The smaller pirate ship runs way better.
And between First Mate Marissa helping to keep everything running smoothly and Tech Pirate Charlotte trying to figure out the stuck bits, I am feeling reassured.
The most hilarious class ever.
We were going to have Mark teach a class for my Kitchen Table people this week. About combining heart with biggification.
Except that we had a scheduling mix-up.
And since I don’t have anything to say about heart in business, I taught a class on Sexiness In Business.
And it was awesome.
We got into a huge cake fight in the chatroom, and there was extreme silliness. It’s these totally fun moments with my rightest Right People that make everything good.
Furnishings?
Okay, so it’s true that I don’t really like furniture. And that I do really, really, really like open spaces.
But it’s also true that I have been avoiding treating Hoppy House like it is my real home.
Even though we have been here for a year and a week now. Remember?
Ah. Hiro pointed out some Extremely Smart And Useful Things about this.
And Colleen infused me with some of her obsessive nesting thing while she was staying with us.
And so I bought a rug. Rug! And a (non-piratey) chest. Of drawers. And a new ginormous mirror for Shiva-ing it up.
Slowly slowly.
Did some stuff I’ve been avoiding.
Mostly taking-care-of-the-pirate-ship stuff.
Fixed a bunch of wee mistake-ies.
And revised the error 404 page. Which you won’t be able to see until the next time I screw up a link. Wait, I can do that right now. Here’s my non-existent page about bunnies.
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’s band is … wait for it ….
Chopped Leverage.
And yes. It’s just one guy.
The sad bit is there are no Stuisms this week. I mean, there are Stuisms but I have a little filing crisis that needs to be dealt with first. Next Chicken.
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.
77 Things That Don’t Completely Suck: 2009
I did this last year on American Thanksgiving too (tradition!) so here’s the short explanation.
This is my Ungratitude Game. Also known as the Lentil Game.
Okay. But that was a terrible explanation. So more explaining!
Things I do not really like:
- forced gratitude.
- being told I need to count my blessings.
- people needing me to like Thanksgiving as much as they do.
Things I do like:
- the lentil game.
- the happy fuzzy feeling that you get when you remember the good stuff*.
- acknowledging the hard (or at least the existence of hard) along with the good, like we do on the Chicken, because otherwise you end up pretending the hard doesn’t mean anything, and it does.
* Yes, I know there’s a word for that. I still call it the Ungratitude Game though.
The lentil game. And a caveat.
You have a bowl full of lentils. Or something small and countable that aren’t lentils. The lentil part isn’t important. The first time I did this there were seventy seven lentils. So that’s how many I’m stuck with.
Luckily, you can do something easy. Like eight pieces of macaroni. I won’t tell.
Anyway. Each thing that doesn’t completely suck gets to jump over to a different bowl. When the first bowl is empty, you feel better. It’s weird, but it works.
Of course, I always forget the really important things anyway. Like olives. Mmmm. Olives. And being (mostly) healthy. And the fact that we have this crazy, wonderful place online.
But it doesn’t remember if you get all the good stuff. It’s practicing.
Havi’s list of 77 Things That Don’t Completely Suck
In no particular order …
- Lilies. Big, gorgeous orange and red lilies. In my kitchen.
- Eating soup in a cheery orange bowl.
- Sitting on the window seat looking out at the garden.
- Roller Derby! This is always something that doesn’t suck, but now that Selma and I are sponsoring Guns N Rollers, it’s even better. Shivanauts FTW!
- Speaking of Shivanauts … the mad brain-zapping wonder that is Dance of Shiva and all the crazy epiphany sparklets that go along with that.
- Chimayo chilies that we brought back from New Mexico.
- New Mexico!
- Selma the duck. My partner and my familiar.
- Selma’s gorgeous wardrobe of hand-knit scarves from her cult following of knitters.
- My email sabbatical — the thing that allows me to do my job without burning out or getting resentful.
- My First Mate Marissa who makes being on email sabbatical possible.
- The wonderful Cairene who first helped me to understand that my business is a pirate ship.
- My new pirate queen necklace that Erin from Insane Jellyfish made for me and that I never want to take off.
- And the Bay Area contingency of my Kitchen Table program, who all chipped in to buy me a fabulous pirate queen outfit, that they gave me at a dinner when I came to San Francisco to teach a workshop this summer.
- Really, everything about the Kitchen Table. One of the best things I’ve ever brought into the world.
- The Portland Mercury. Ah, reliable snark in weekly doses.
- Also, courtesy of the Mercury, the phrase “our dreamboat President”.
- Our dreamboat President.
- The quality (and concept) of Sovereignty.
- Roasting jerusalem artichokes that come from our garden. Serving with the yogurt my gentleman friend made, the bread that I baked and the beer we brew in our basement.
- Living the way I want to live. See: above.
- My gentleman friend’s chuckle. He’s got a terrific guffaw as well, but it’s the chuckle that gets me every time. Best. Laugh. Ever.
- Sometimes — not very often, but sometimes — I can think about my friend who is dead without falling apart, and smile at memories.
- Hoppy House. I love Hoppy House.
- The rug. It really ties the room together.
- Knowing that I can quote any Coen Brothers film on this blog, without attribution, and the majority of my readers will know exactly what I’m talking about.
- Giving myself permission to not go anywhere or do anything for Thanksgiving, because I don’t feel like it, dammit.
- Oh that dammit list. How I love you.
- Brilliantly and sneakily opting out of doing either Thanksgiving or Christmas at the inlaws (aka the unlaws). Without pissing anyone off. Second year in a row. I’m thinking tradition.
- The Kindle app for the iPhone. I can take books with me wherever I go. In my pocket. It’s the future and I love it.
- The smell of bread baking.
- My pirate apron with the skull and crossbones. Another great present from the gentleman friend.
- The Friday Chickens. They might even be my favorite part of the week.
- The people in my life who always remember about the vegetarian thing and the no sugar thing.
- Support. Knowing it’s there.
- Getting my Starsky and Hutch fix at Hulu.com.
- Whole milk. From the sneaky milk co-op.
- God I love living in Portland.
- I never imagined coming back to the States, but if I’m going to be here, Portland is exactly where I want to be.
- Deborah’s weird, magic potions. Is there anything more genius (and bizarre) than a spray for healthy boundaries?
- Working from home.
- The “no computer-ing after 5 pm” rule.
- My clients and students, who are smart and kooky and make me laugh.
- People I’ve never met or even heard of … writing me letters.
- About how some concept from the blog totally changed their lives. Without taking any of my courses or buying any of my products, they have a completely different way of relating to themselves now.
- Wow.
- Snail mail. It is the happy.
- My wonderful friend, mentor and sister-in-silliness, Hiro.
- Barbara Sher. Barbara Freaking Sher. Love that woman.
- Friends.
- Like Dana.
- And Andreas.
- And Amna.
- The weird little world of being an internet rockstar. It’s like, the most random, obscure … completely ludicrous form of celebrity. And I can still go to the supermarket without being mobbed.
- Writing.
- Biggifying my writing.
- Swing dancing.
- Patsy Cline.
- Having a great massage therapist.
- Seriously. I have a knack for finding people.
- People to complain to when stuff is going ridiculously, horribly wrong.
- My business still doing well despite having made some tragic hiring choices this year.
- Painful lessons learned … and maybe the “learning painful lessons” part is over for a while. That would be nice.
- My gentleman friend makes me laugh.
- And drops everything to come with me on Emergency Vacation
- Having really great neighbors.
- Who don’t play the drums.
- Daily yoga, dependable source of comfort and support for over a decade.
- Even though there are lots of things that I’m not feeling grateful for right now — some of which I’m even feeling seriously upset and resentful about — I’m glad that I have room in me for a variety of feelings and emotions.
- Permission to be human.
- Every once in a while I remember to give that permission to myself.
- Plans.
- Possibility.
- Being here right now.
- You.
- I’m so glad you’re here.
- Thank you.
Also: olives.