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.
Greatest Hits? The revisited revisited album.
So I started this blog a year and a half ago. With a post called I has a blog.
Since then there have been four hundred and thirty posts, if you include this one.
And close to ten thousand comments.
It’s weird, I know.
I don’t know what’s up with that last number, but I can definitely explain about the four hundred and thirty posts thing.
For starters, there are a lot of Chickens in there. And really, it’s not so much that I’m crazy prolific as just crazy.
And also because I treat blogging as therapy that I don’t have to pay for.
And because I do a lot of shiva spirals, which deliver epiphanies, often (for me) in the form of information that wants to be written down.
Anyway. That’s not the point.
The point is this:
I need some help choosing posts to recommend to people.
I have this stupid “greatest hits” thing in the sidebar.
Which was put up forever ago (in bloggishness, not in the grand scheme of things) before there really were any hits, greatest or otherwise.
Even if we assume that eventually I will come up with a name less annoying than “greatest hits”, it would still be nice to have a way to point people to some Useful Stuff.
The idea being that it that might give them a better sense of what we do around here. Stuff that isn’t in the FAQ or the Glossary.
Things that are not helping me decide.
Criteria? Hell if I know.
Because I don’t think number of comments should necessarily be relevant.
It might be a measure of something but I’m still not sure what.
I mean, there are a hundred comments on this post about hangers. There are a lot of comments when I piss people off by saying things like this.
And sometimes a specific post will get twenty thousand page views in a day. Like when I talked about what inspires me to buy art.
And about a year ago when I was trying to get people to stop hiring me, I put together a page of biggification-related posts to read on a page called no, seriously, don’t hire me.
Or my duck has a cult following of her own, so yeah, people also obsess over the posts that have pictures of her.
But again, these aren’t necessarily the posts that I care about. Or the ones that are infused with the essence of Havi-ness. Or the ones that really get to the core of the stuff we do here.
So here’s what I want.
Some of your favorites.
Because I know for a fact that there are a lot of you out there who have spent weeks obsessively stalking my archives (and yes, I love how dirty “in my archives” sounds).
And even if you haven’t. If there is a post that did something for you — a good something, yes? — that would be helpful for me.
My commitment:
I will be ridiculously appreciative of the suggestions my people come up with.
I will come up with a list of some of my own personal favorites that no one ever reads.
In the meantime I will leave you with how The Fluent Self got started, a story about scissors that helped me realize that I actually am a writer, kind of … and how this blog is totally not an overnight success even if that’s what it looks like from the outside.
And a few words about regrets.
My ask.
Otherwise known as? Comment Zen for the day.
Given that this is a place where we work on our stuff, acknowledge our stuff, give ourselves permission to have it to begin with … things definitely come up that can be awkward and trigger-ey.
So. We’re patient with each other (okay, fine, with ourselves), when we can stand it. We generally try to recognize that our stuff is our stuff. We don’t throw shoes.
Mensch-like: it’s our thing.
And if you have an idea for a less-dorky way to list these than “greatest hits”, I will adore you forever.
Item! Exclamation points don’t cost extra, apparently.
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.
Oh, yes. I get exclaim-ey on Wednesdays.
It’s a thing. Well, let’s pretend it’s a thing.
Item! Post No. 45 in a series that makes me sound far more excitable than I actually am, because I keep shouting Item!
Item! I’m not the only one who forgets the things I already know..
Heather wrote a beautiful piece in response to my post about stucknesses.
“Here are some of the things I know, but have not been able to integrate into my living practice:
- When I’m tired, I need to rest.
- Stagnation is a natural part of the creative cycle. Perhaps view it as sitting or processing rather than stagnation.
- If I touch just one person with what I do or say, I’ve made a difference.”
I found this so helpful.
She’s @livingartist on Twitter.
Item! What makes an online community work.
Interesting piece from Richard Millington on why amateurs build better online communities than businesses. Confirmed a lot of what I’ve learned/experienced from running my Kitchen Table program.
“You’re competing against amateurs. The very online communities that most businesses want are the communities they would have if they acted less like a business and more like a passionate amateur.”
He’s @RichMillington on Twitter.
Item! Our dreamboat president. Again.
I know I linked to this in the Chicken.
But I can’t resist.
Picture taken by my brother, who’s @ezra_brooks on Twitter.
Item! Crazy wonderful socks.
More Etsy goodness.
Found via @memoija on Twitter.
Item! Another excellent dammit list.
Michael came up with his own version of a dammit list.*
* If you don’t know what a dammit list is, it’s now in the glossary.
“I love it because it is a vision of my future self, said with passion. A stake in the ground. A line in the sand, Dammit!”
My favorite part of his dammit list is that it includes be Randy Newman, dammit. Which is just adorable.
He’s @mj_walters on Twitter.
Item! Cranky Fibro Girl strikes again.
This is from ages ago, but I’m sharing it now. Because I don’t have a plan. More about my lack of plan next time, though.
“You know that whole stupid chart doctors pull out that supposedly tell you what weight you should be according to your height? Apparently the people who compiled this chart were unaware of the fact that women are actually 3-dimensional beings.
Now we do have a friend who is only 5 ft. tall, and probably does weigh only 100 lbs., but I’m pretty sure that’s because she was constructed using only the bones of one tiny sparrow and a few golden clouds.
She is very tiny and cute — like a miniature doll you might want to pick up and keep in your pocket. And as a matter of fact she frequently has random strange men come up to her and tell her this very thing.
That is, of course, the very last thing they say, right before she kills them and feeds their bodies to sharks. Which they clearly deserve because, seriously –that’s just creepy.”
Ah, yes. You can always count on some quality ranting from Jenny. That’s because she’s Cranky Fibro Girl. She’s funny and sweet and I think you will like.
She’s @jennyryan on Twitter.
Item! Oh I am so happy.
I can’t even tell you how gleeful I was upon seeing that The Onion has devoted this week to “the top 10 stories of the last 4.5 billion years” for their annual the-year-in-review thing.
My inner history major (yes, of course I was a history major) is just loving this to death.
“The Magna Carta, which limits the powers of the king and binds him to the rule of law, was issued on June 15, 1215. What do you think?”
“Then, tis tyme to become taken awaye to the prisonne, for I am desirous to trye this new Habeas Corpus.”
Excellent.
Item! Eileen on the human filter.
This is good.
“I feel like wow, if this person exists in the world then why do I even need to be here? They’ve totally got this covered.
Which is funny (funny ha-ha as I tend to laugh at myself when I learn lessons over and over again), because while someone else might be able to say things that speak to the core of who I am, things that inspire and move me and make me feel not-alone…..they can’t say my things.”
Yes. We can’t see our filters. Because they’re ours. Read the rest.
She’s @evalazza on Twitter.
Item! Lucy wrote a brave post about her thing.
Her thing!
She showed up to the Biggification Day in Sacramento not sure if she had a thing or if she wanted a thing or how she would describe it if she could get to the point of admitting that yes, it exists.
And now she’s remarkably articulate about why it’s awesome. It is, by the way. It’s like astrology for people who don’t believe in astrology. Only better.
“It’s not about predicting the future, folks. It’s not about telling you what colour socks you’re going to wear next Thursday or what you had for breakfast this morning. Or even whether you’ll get that job or buy that house.
It’s about self-discovery.
It’s about talking to your patterns.
It’s short of jargon and it doesn’t invent connections that aren’t there.”
She’s @lucyviret on Twitter.
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. We talked about what happens if you do Shiva Nata while pregnant.
Everyone at my Sacramento Biggification workshop had intense idea-storms and much epiphanizizing. Most of them have been blogging it up like mad.
Also, Pearl Mattenson gave birth to a wonderful baby blog about her shivanautical pracice. It’s called Shiva Nata Callings & Pearl is NOT having a mid-life crisis, and I love it.
She’s @pearlmattenson on Twitter.
Item! Comments! Here’s what I want this time:
- Things you’re thinking about.
- Things that are cheery in winter.
My commitment.
I am committed to giving time and thought to the things that people say, and I will interact with their ideas and with my own stuff as compassionately and honestly as is possible for me.
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. See you tomorrow.
Re-explaining the Right People thing
I want to say some thing about the concept of Right People, because I am recognizing that the concept is possibly been misunderstood (hugely) by a bunch of people that I adore.
Which means (for me, at least) that I have not been able to explain it correctly or thoroughly.*
* Consider this an extended version of the definition in the glossary.
So, with your permission, I’m going to try to give the Right People thing some context.
There are no wrong people here.
There just aren’t.
For one thing, there’s no such thing as wrong people. So … someone who is a Tony Robbins right person is probably not my right person, but that doesn’t make them my wrong person. They just wouldn’t come into my orbit.
And someone who is interested in my stuff is, by definition, a right person because right people are people who like me and my duck.
And someone who hangs out in my world and appreciates it is also a right person by definition, because right people are people whom I like too.
Right does not mean “chosen” or “better” or “cooler” or anything-er.
It is meant to imply a comfortable fit. A healthy fit. With a specific thing.
It refers to the idea that everyone should have the right to hang out with people they like and appreciate, who like and appreciate them.
And that everyone should have the right to not have to hang out with shoe-throwers or with people who don’t appreciate and respect them. Unless you like that kind of thing.
If someone throws shoes at you? Not one of your people. The concept of Right People gives you permission to not have to spend time with people who are mean to you.
But the Right People thing is not about being rejected, or about rejecting others.
It is not exclusionary.
If anything, it’s the opposite.
Everyone gets right people. It’s not just some special right people who get right people.
And everyone gets right people who are fabulous. You get right people that you adore. Not right people that you have to settle for. They wouldn’t be very right if you did.
There is absolutely no need to actively exclude people who don’t fit. The idea is that we are naturally drawn to the stuff that speaks to us. So if we aren’t drawn to something, we aren’t being rejected. We’re just being drawn somewhere else.
It’s not about exclusion. It’s about discernment.
When I get excited about Friday, it doesn’t mean that nothing good ever happens on Wednesday. It just means I’m happy about Friday.
When I surround myself with stuff/people/concepts that are loving and supportive, it makes it easier for me to be the kind of person who can have love and support in her life.
It doesn’t mean I have to stop being sarcastic and obnoxious. It doesn’t mean that I have to lose my sense of humor. It just means that I don’t have to have stuff in my life that makes me feel like crap, dammit.
But we can go even deeper into the concept — or definition — of right people, as I understand it.
What I mean by Right People — my definition.
Okay.
Right People = anyone you like and appreciate who likes and appreciates you.
You can be someone’s right person without ever buying from them.
For example, I get to be Victoria‘s right person even though I might not ever hire her as a coach. I’m Victoria’s right person because I believe in her work and I think she’s awesome.
I get to be Ankesh‘s right person even though I might not ever necessarily buy his products. I’m his right person because I admire the hell out of him and because he’s a total mensch.
As far as I know, I’m a right person for you, because if you’re here, it’s pretty likely that I would like you and care about what you do.
And you are all my right people because you connect with some aspect of what I talk about or what I do. But it goes even deeper than that.
Layers of right people.
I totally believe that everyone has right people, even if they haven’t found any of them yet.
I also believe that everyone has enough right people in the world to support them and their thing.
IMPORTANT! This does not mean that the people who can’t support your thing right now don’t get to be your right people.
They’re still the right fit. They’re just not at the very center of that support structure.
When I look at my life — the sovereign queendom of me and all of my me-ness — there is room for my closest friends and allies, and there is room for people I care about but don’t get to hang out with that often.
And when I look at my business — the kingdom of The Fluent Self — there is room for my regular clients, for the people in my Kitchen Table program, my Friday Chickeneers and all of my Beloved Lurkers.
Not everyone in the kingdom is going to buy my stuff or hire me. Or even let me know of their existence. And it doesn’t matter. Because they get touched by the stuff I do.
There will always be a cluster closer to the center of the kingdom where the action is. Where all the support structures are.
And some people will be closer to the center. And some people will be more at the outskirts. And some people will wander in between. It’s all fine. Because they are all — every single one — my Right People.
Right people does not mean homogenization.
Because right people doesn’t refer to any one specific quality or characteristic.
It’s not like “oh, my right people are over six feet tall and like pistachio ice cream”. Or that they have a certain type of thing or a certain personality.
It’s about resonance and zing. Zing!
Sure, my right people tend to be bright, thoughtful, insightful, sensitive and goofy.
But probably a lot of them don’t necessarily self-define that way at all. Selma and I don’t collect right people based on type. There is room for all kinds of right people among my right people.
Why Right People is not about rejection.
Because life is not high school. There aren’t any cool kids.
Naomi and I aren’t the cool kids. Mark and Jen aren’t the cool kids.
There are no cool kids. There are just people. Who have their own groups of right people.
And you get to belong anywhere where you feel safe and supported.
And you get to choose who gets to belong with you, and help them feel safe and supported.
The whole point of right people and red velvet ropes and such is to make it easier on you to welcome in the kind of people that you like being around.
And to make it easier for the kind of people who might throw shoes (or just not get you) to quietly find their way to their own right place, instead of judging you for being you.
No, seriously. Life is not high school.
Life is not high school. Business is not high school. Nothing that happens is high school.
Except, of course, for high school.**
** And those of us who need to spit on those memories can do so now..
Whatever is reminding you of how things were in high school is just that. A reminder that you have patterns. A reminder that you have stuff.
It’s not the same experience. It’s the same emotional charge, but it’s not the same experience.
It’s a new experience, filtered through old stuff that thinks it’s seeing something familiar.
Right People is a way to find comfort
Before I had the concept of right people, it was really easy to feel annoyed and upset with people I didn’t like.
I’d think about other biggifiers like, say, Tim Ferris, and find myself wanting to kick them in the shins for making the people I care about feel bad about themselves.
Once I realized that hey, I’m just not one of his people, I didn’t have to hate on him anymore. In fact, recognizing that made it possible for me to relax and get something good out of what he teaches.
I didn’t like the way he presented the concept. It wasn’t my style. But the result? Brilliant.
So instead of wishing someone else were different than the way I want them to be, the concept of Right People makes it a lot easier for me to just let them be the way they are.
And to trust that the people who need that message in that form will get it. And the people who need my message in my form will get it.
There’s more room that way. There’s more room for everyone. Right People is about breathing room.
It’s about not having to resent people because they’re doing something that isn’t a good fit for you.
It’s about turning around and saying: Hey, it’s my life and I’m allowed to hang around people who get me, dammit.
And yet again, this is really long.
So I’m going to stop here.
But I hope some of this is helping. That it’s clear that having right people doesn’t make you a jerk.
And that discernment is a useful practice.
And that you are welcome here by virtue of the simple fact that you like being here.
Talking to the Time Gremlins
It kind of seemed like the right time to stop avoiding that conversation with the stuckified stuckness of stuckery-stuck.
But I still didn’t want to actually talk to the stuck.
Oh, and the stuck definitely did not want to talk to me.
So I decided to go on a reconnaissance mission: just to collect some basic information, in case we ever should get around to talking. You know, eventually.
The plan was to do this without the help of a negotiator or any other form of mediation, but to have Selma tag along as back-up. I may have also brought a sock monkey.
In which I try to establish contact with a stuck.
In case you don’t remember from last week, this particular stuck is the one that doesn’t let me take time off because ohmygod the guilt. And the shame.
And the fear that everything will fall apart.
Me: Hey, stuckified resistance that lives inside of me. I would like to get some information from you.
My stucknesses: We’re not talking! We’re not talking! You can’t make us! You can’t make us!
Me: Oh, crap. There’s a bunch of you? And you’re what, six years old?
My stucknesses: We’re not talking!
Me: Are you not talking because you’re afraid I’m going to talk you out of your position?
My stucknesses: Maybe.
Me: Aw, come on. You know I’m all about meeting people where they are. I won’t try to convince you to not exist. I just want to know what you think.
My stucknesses: Pthffthlphthlphth!
Me: Fine, I might logic with you the teensiest bit. It seems to me, though, that when you say things that scare me, you also use logic. So it’s only fair that I can logic back sometimes, right?
My stucknesses: Oooooooooooh. Look who’s not afraid to be all confrontational. You think you can logic us? Ha! Think again!
Me: Wow. Okay. Nobody’s confronting anything. You know that’s not what this is about. All I want is some information about what your arguments are.
My stucknesses: No you don’t.
Me: Try me.
In which I catch my stuck in a bald-faced contradiction.
Me: Just so I know where you stand, tell me again why it’s bad for me to take time off. Because my experience is that I work much better when I let myself have restorative time.
My stucknesses: Everyone will hate you! They’ll resent you! They’ll say mean things! They’ll throw shoes!
Me: And why is that?
My stucknesses: Come on! You didn’t take a vacation for ten years! You couldn’t afford to take time off. Now you can (or you think you can)? Everyone will hate you!
Me: Oh?
My stucknesses: You used to hate it too when those biggifiers would write noozletters about how much fun they were having in Paris or whatever.
Me: That’s a little different, though. I’m not interested in bragging about being able to take time off. I just want to take it.
My stucknesses: Everyone will hate you. All of them!
Me: Tell me more about why you think everyone (everyone!) will hate me.
My stucknesses: Everyone will hate you.
Me: What if I don’t ever take time off? You’re saying that would be better?
My stucknesses: No, they’ll still hate you.
In which I get closer to something tiny and true about fear.
Me: This isn’t even about me taking time off, is it? It’s about your fear of people being mean to me.
My stucknesses: Get used to it. Everyone will hate you no matter what.
Me: Interesting. What does that mean?
My stucknesses: If you don’t take time off, they’ll also hate you because then you aren’t practicing what you preach and they’ll think you’re a total fraud.
Me: So you’re trying to protect me from other people’s stuff.
My stucknesses: Yes.
M: And you also think that people are going to be mean and throw shoes no matter what?
My stucknesses: Yes.
Me: So really, I could still take time off and it doesn’t matter.
My stucknesses: Well, kind of.
Me: And either way, you’re going to worry about me.
My stucknesses: Yes.
Me: Because you love me?
My stucknesses: Yes.
Me: That’s really screwed up.
My stucknesses: Well, we are Jewish, you know.
Me: Yes. Believe me. I know.
In which I remember the thing I already knew.
Me: Wow. That’s kind of a relief.
My stucknesses: It is?
Me: You throw shoes at me so that I won’t get hit by other people’s shoes.
My stucknesses: Yes.
Me: That’s kind of sweet. Still screwed up. But it’s sweet.
My stucknesses: Yes.
Me: Everything you do is intended to keep me safe. And yet everything you do results in me being paralyzed, exhausted and unable to do any of the things I need to do to stay grounded.
My stucknesses: Oh.
In which I recognize what this is really about.
Me: So this is really about the sovereignty thing again.
My stucknesses: That’s bullshit hippie talk.
Me: Listen. You believe that everyone is going to hate me no matter what. Maybe that’s true and maybe it isn’t. But either way, I need to be able to not care so much about their judgments, which they might or might not be experiencing.
My stucknesses: What do you mean?
Me: If they don’t hate me and it’s all in my head, then it’s not helpful for me to constantly be worrying about it. If they do hate me, they’re not my right people. And anyway, it’s not useful for me to avoid taking care of myself because someone else might feel resentful about that.
My stucknesses: Stop logic-ing us! We don’t like it!
In which we come to a temporary agreement.
Me: What if we talk again in a while? That will give you some time to prepare some better arguments for why I’m supposedly not allowed to take time off?
My stucknesses: What’s the catch?
Me: I want to be able to experiment with time off in tiny little doses just to see what happens. It’ll be all scientific method-ey and I’ll take notes and stuff.
My stucknesses: Okay. But don’t tell anyone who might throw shoes.
Me: I will surround myself with people who are supportive and appreciative of my choices.
My stucknesses: Good!
Me: Does that mean that you’re going to start being supportive and appreciative too?
My stucknesses: Don’t push it.
Me: Okay. We’ll stop here for now. I’ll be back.
My stucknesses: Next time bring something to eat.
Me: I love how this gets weirder every time.
Comment zen for today.
No advices, please. Support and appreciation welcome, as are thoughts and wonderings and stories about your own gremlins.
Very Personal Ads #24: What’s official, anyway?
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 Sunday ritual. Yay, ritual!
Let’s do this thing.
Thing 1: To walk more.
Here’s what I want:
One of the member mice in my Kitchen Table program has started this thing where she committed to spending as much time walking outdoors as she does doing stuff online.
I am in awe.
Not quite ready for as big a commitment as that, but yes. More Walking!
Ways this could work:
I can remember to keep extra socks by the door. And boots! And leg warmers! It’s cold in Portland.
My gentleman friend can drag me out for walks and I can let him.
Selma can wear one of her winter scarves as a reminder that it’s time to take my duck for a walk.
Some Shiva Nata can get me ready to move. Or can help me figure out why I’m resisting it, since walking is normally one of my favorite things.
I can set alarms and reminders so I can do this during the day and not when it’s dark, which seems to be pretty much all the time lately. Oof. Winter.
Twitter-accountability partners. Or checking in on the Deguiltified Chicken Board forum at the Kitchen Table.
My commitment.
I can be patient with this practice, and give it time to start slowly and grow at its own speed. I can be okay with the fact that I’m not very good at being patient.
Or to not be okay with that, but to notice the pattern of not-being-okay-with-it.
Thing 2: to announce something without announcing it.
Here’s what I want:
There are two new openings for someone to join my fabulous hard-to-get-into Destuckification Retreat. You know, the one I never really announced.
Though I did mention it in a sentence on my Item! post, which for me is hard-core promotional since I don’t promote stuff at all, as a rule.
So. I need a way to announce these two spots (one single room, one shared room). But without sending the people who have already applied into Massive Freakouts In My Inbox about oh no what if they didn’t get in.*
*You’d be surprised, but Massive Freakouts is just one guy. Also? If you’ve applied and haven’t gotten a no, this isn’t the no. You’re probably fine for now, we’ll talk VERY soon, no worries.
How I want this to work:
With ease.
I want a couple more Right People to go take a look at the page, to ignore the part where it says it’s full (it was) and apply anyway.
People who have already done stuff with me and Selma in person (in duck?) know what an enormous everything-is-better-now experience it is. They know what it’s like to spend say, an afternoon destuckifying with me and then go home knowing that hey, they can do the thing, and then watching things just happen.
So they can imagine what it’s like to have an entire week of that, only amplified. Because the hilarity and wonder are huge. And this one will actually have rest and recovery too.
And brain-zapping. Oh, the zappy. It will be like fireworks. Only less scary.
People who haven’t done stuff with me will realize that whatever amazingness they’re imagining, it’s so much cooler than that, even though that might be kind of hard to believe.
They will look at the schedule. They will get a brief but tingly sense of what is possible when your stuff isn’t getting in the way. And when you know exactly what to do when things aren’t working.
And you know what needs to happen — plus how to access the part of you that knows it can happen, which is even more crazy and great.
My commitment.
There won’t be promotional stuff. I am not going to write a post about the retreat. I’m not going to send out an email to anyone.
Even though — “officially” — the early bird thing ends tonight, if these two right people show up, I will give them the early price even if it is past the deadline. Because what the hell, I didn’t even announce it. So it’s only fair.
I’m going to remember that if this program almost-filled without me making a big tzimmes about its existence, the Very Personal Ad can take care of the rest.
As soon as these two newly available spots are taken, I will close enrollment.
I will go through the new applications as quickly as I can. And set up phone interviews as necessary.
And I will continue be hugely appreciative of everyone in my world, as I always am: those people who love my work but can’t take classes and programs right now, those who participate in bloggishness with me, and my beloved lurkers.
They’re all marvelous.
One more thing: I will try to remember to provide links when I use Yiddishisms. And I will give one more link to the Seven Days of Destuckification Retreat.
Thing 3: Patience! More of it, please. In all forms.
Here’s what I want:
There are all these people on the waiting list for my Kitchen Table program.
And it takes huge chunks of time to process applications and figure out how many more spaces we can open.
So we’ve been doing it in sections, one small group at a time. As fast as we can. But we’re also dealing with applications for two other programs. It’s been busy. Insanely so. We’re trying.
And people have been having even more freakouts in my inbox. Are we sensing a theme? There is a theme.
Here’s how this could work:
I don’t know. Asking.
Asking for more patience from people who are waiting. Asking for some for myself.
Improving my systems. Sing ho for systems! Systems, ho! More on that next week.
My commitment.
To breathe. To communicate. To breathe some more.
Progress report on past Very Personal Ads.
Just to update you on what’s happened since last week.
The funny thing is realizing now that I did create an ask around the Destuckification Retreat last week. And then forgot about it.
But the ask wasn’t for Right People.
The ask was for me to do a bunch of administrative stuff. Which I didn’t do. Because I was teaching all week in California and things were crazy.
But maybe I didn’t do it because that wasn’t the way I wanted to do things. Maybe what I really wanted was this week’s ask for things to happen with ease and grace. And for me not to have to do a bunch of administrative stuff.
Whew. That feels better. Looser. The breathing thing. Totally working better.
I also asked for time off (you know, for me to give it to myself), which hasn’t happened yet.
Ironically, Wednesday took me off instead of the other way around, because I was recovering from some hard and couldn’t do much even if I’d wanted to.
Movement. Small. Working on it.
Also, the past few weeks have had a lot of asks related to difficult interpersonal situations, all but one of which have been quietly working themselves out.
And who knows? Maybe we’ll get some movement on that one too.
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!