What's in the gallery?
We dissolve stuck and rewrite patterns. We apply radical playfulness to life (when we feel like it!), embarking on internal adventures (credo of Safety First). We have a fake band called Solved By Cake. We build invisible sanctuaries, invent words and worlds, breathe awe and wonder.
We are not impressed by monsters. Except when we are. We explore the connections between internal territories and surrounding environment to learn what marvelously supportive delicious space feels like, and how to take exquisite care of ourselves. We transform things.* We glow wild.**
* For example: Desire, fear, worry, pain-and-trauma, boundaries, that problematic word which rhymes with flaweductivity.
** Fair warning: Self-fluency has been known to lead to extremely subversive behavior, including treasuring yourself unconditionally, unapologetically taking up space, experiencing outrageously improbable levels of self-acceptance, and general rejoicing in aliveness.
What's in the gallery?
We dissolve stuck and rewrite patterns. We apply radical playfulness to life (when we feel like it!), embarking on internal adventures (credo of Safety First). We have a fake band called Solved By Cake. We build invisible sanctuaries, invent words and worlds, breathe awe and wonder.
We are not impressed by monsters. Except when we are. We explore the connections between internal territories and surrounding environment to learn what marvelously supportive delicious space feels like, and how to take exquisite care of ourselves. We transform things.* We glow wild.**
* For example: Desire, fear, worry, pain-and-trauma, boundaries, that problematic word which rhymes with flaweductivity.
** Fair warning: Self-fluency has been known to lead to extremely subversive behavior, including treasuring yourself unconditionally, unapologetically taking up space, experiencing outrageously improbable levels of self-acceptance, and general rejoicing in aliveness.
Friday Chicken #68: those robot crustaceans, eh?
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.
Ayyyyiiiiiii. What a week.
Thank Goodness It’s The Chicken.
Let’s do it!
The hard stuff
Uncomfortable conversations.
And putting them off.
One of them I’d been wanting to have for months, but have been so upset about it and couldn’t find a way to have a non-upset conversation.
After all that time hoping I’d be able to find the right way to do it, I decided to just go ahead and have the really upset conversation.
And then I decided I was too upset to do it.
Ending relationships.
Some of this was really hard/sad because I didn’t want something to end.
And some of it was hard/sad because I have no idea what took me so long.
Inner turmoil related to conversations and relationships not working.
I spent most of Sunday night crying instead of sleeping.
Really crappy.
Blah blah, transition.
This is really practically a permanent Friday Chicken item at this point, so you’d think I’d get used to everything being in transition all the damn time but no. Still sucks, thank you very much.
It’s not so much the changes I mind (since the way I play business is very much about innovation and form-shifting), but the repositioning that takes place after the changes.
I let about half my staff go this week, which is an important part of the latest transition, and it was really, really hard for everyone involved.
I’ve known for a long time that I need the pirate ship to be way more streamlined, but it’s been hard for me to do.
Very painful. Very uncomfortable. Totally the right thing, but not fun.
Scary pattern.
A year ago I did a stupid, not-thinking, messed up thing. A mistake.
And then yesterday (a year — to the day, almost to the hour), the same mistake. Exactly the same mistake.
Nothing is hurt but my pride, thank goodness. And it didn’t involve anyone but me. But it was still weird and freaky, and started messing with my head.
The gentleman friend being worried about things.
This transition stuff is taking its toll. And when he worries, I worry. And this is not a good time for me to be worried.
Dancing class getting way too hard.
I keep missing classes because of all the mad traveling.
And then the catching-up is so not working. Feeling stupid and uncoordinated. I know, that’s supposed to be something I’m good at. But it’s still painful.
The good stuff
Presents!
Just when I was feeling most miserable and sleep-deprived and not-able-to-stop-crying, presents!
An especially marvelous Pirate Queen necklace (with a duck — can you believe it?) from Insane Jellyfish???
And an assistant for Selma from Romilly (Romilly-who-made-me-socks).
It was excellent up-cheering, and right on time.
The Communicatrix!
Colleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeen! Came for a visit!
And so we got to a. spend time with one of my favorite biscuit-ey people and b. turn the study into a guest room. Totally worked.
Plus it was half an answer to a Very Personal Ad she wrote a few weeks ago. How about that?
I rewrote a page that was bugging me.
Have been meaning to redo a lot of stuff on the Shiva Nata site, especially now that we’re sponsoring Roller Derby!
And not getting around to it. Blech.
So this week I just kind of casually rewrote the main page, and it feels so much better. Whew.
Hiro.
Since I spent half the week out-flipping over all these Things Going Wrong, I needed help.
And Hiro was so sweet and reassuring … and managed to sneak in emergency sessions for me and just be a good friend and a smart destuckifier.
I feel so supported and cared for and loved. It’s really great.
My favorite thing.
Every once in a while I throw an Ask Havi Anything call at the Kitchen Table.
These are so much fun.
You wouldn’t believe the stuff people ask. But it’s all extremely entertaining. And useful. And I surprise myself with occasional accidental smartnesses.
Not needing to promote things.
Thank god, because I hate promoting things and refuse to do it, dammit.
I was really getting worried that I’d have to talk up my Kitchen Table program to get the right people to sign up for next year.
But most people there are staying. And there were seventy people on the freaking waiting list before I even got around to thinking about how I would promote it if I had to.
Whew.
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.”
And the fake band of the week is:
Pimping Robot Crustaceans.
I got this from Melle who is @melle on Twitter, and I don’t think context can help this one.
But I can definitely assure you that it’s … just one guy.
And … STUISMS of the week. They’re back.
Stu is my paranoid McCarthy-ist voice-to-text software who delights in torturing me misunderstanding me. I can’t stand him.
- “aiming timing charming” of instead of timing timing timing
- “productivity is groovy you people” instead of productivity guru-ey people
- “Denver Brie assurances” instead of time for reassurances
- “arresting the entire herald” instead of the best thing in the entire world
- “Oh Bosnia curried fabulousness” instead of allows me to curate fabulousness
- “think batsmen grumble parable books I’ve fetch testicle and are” instead of CrankyPants McGrumbleBug’s Kvetchtastic Whine Bar
- “pimping your rubble to stress stations” instead of pimping robot crustaceans
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.
Timing timing timing.
I keep seeing this “timestamp” thing freaking my people out.
You know, setting a date for something. This is when it’s finally happening.
Because, you know, the productivity guru-ey people need you to say that whatever it is you’re busy not-doing is — despite all odds — actually going to happen.
And not only going to happen, but going to happen by a specific date.
Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Especially if it works for you. Yay — stuff that works!
But if having a date on something makes you want to throw up?
Let’s talk about that.
Totally understandable.
Sometimes having a timestamp on something makes you want to throw up because ohmygod it’s going to happen and I’m not ready.
And sometimes having the timestamp makes you want to throw up because ohmygod that’s like, two years from now and what if I can’t make it that long?!
Either way, it doesn’t really matter.
The point is that it’s time for reassurances!
Reassurances!
Point 1: You’re allowed to feel panicked and terrified.
Whatever you’re feeling is a legitimate thing to feel. Always.
Wanting to throw up = normal.
Point 2: Timestamps are malleable.
Here’s the thing.
Life is a weirdly dynamic process. Things shift and change. As we all pretty much know, that’s just how they are.
To paraphrase the Dude, new shit can come to light.
Which means?
Just because you’re saying right now that a thing is going to happen in X amount of time doesn’t mean it has to. It might. But it doesn’t have to.
Setting the date is just to help you feel supported — like the thing you’re thinking about might actually turn out to be a real thing.
But if that’s bringing on the scary? Skip it. It’s just pretend. It can happen sooner. It can happen later.
The point is to make space for it to happen with timing that’s right for you. You can change the date as many times as you need to. Or life will change it for you.
Point 3: You’re almost always wrong anyway.
Ow. I know, that’s not really reassuring. But it is kind of.
Oh, examples. I have some.
When I was a bartender in Tel Aviv and I really, really, really wanted to be not-a-bartender in Berlin, I needed a timestamp.
It had been ten years. I wanted out of the Middle East. I wanted out of the bars. I wanted out period.
The problem is that I was earning minimum wage — which translated to about $3/hour. If I worked overtime and didn’t spend money on anything other than rent and the bare minimum of food, I could save, oh, about a dollar a month.
So my five year plan was … kind of depressing. And not very viable. But I clung to it.
My whole plan was based on all sorts of assumptions about what I needed in order to make the changes. And, as is so often the case with assumptions, I was wrong about all of them.
Because we know nothing about nothing.
It didn’t take five years. It took one year. It was a hellish year, yes. But it was a year.
I had a timestamp. And the timestamp wasn’t all that relevant. What was relevant was the dream. The thing I was giving myself permission to ask for.
Point 4: Things often do happen in the right time.
Maybe not always. I don’t know. A lot.
And the best way that I know to try and remember this easily-forgettable-thing is to ask for the perfect, simple solution.
Like this:
“Okay. Even though I’m not sure I actually believe that things can happen in the right timing for me, I am open to the perfect simple solution.
“I might not be convinced that such a thing even exists, but if there is a perfect, simple solution, it is officially invited to show up. Or even many perfect simple solutions.
“And even though lots of things in my life have happened in really crappy timing, I am reminding myself that I am allowed to think that things generally suck.
“I do not have to turn into someone annoyingly positive in order to be open to the possibility that this particular thing might happen in the right time, structure and sequence.
“And if it doesn’t, then whatever happens will probably turn out to have been good timing too, so I’m going to stop stressing over this if I can. Or give myself some more time with this if I can’t.
“I know it feels really urgent right now that everything work out in the exact right way, and I’m just going to try and remember that when I pay attention to what I need, things work better.”
Well, that’s how I do it.
Your version can be way less ramble-ey.
Point 5: There’s time.
Really.
It’s not like we’re going to stop freaking out all the time.
Maybe just some of the time.
But there are two important things going on here:
- If you want to biggify your thing, you gotta work on your stuff. Hence all the destuckification work that we do here.
- Working on your stuff is not the kind of thing that gets a “timestamp”. It’s something you do. It’s part of having a conscious, intelligent, non-jerky relationship with yourself.
So you keep doing it. And you use that work to stay grounded.
That’s so when you do set a date for something, and you want to hide under your desk and cry, you know it’s going to be okay.
You know that you’re allowed to give yourself permission to want to throw up. You know that perfect simple solutions are going to make themselves known. You know that you can handle it even if they don’t.
In the meantime, you get to practice remembering that freaking out doesn’t mean you don’t want to do the thing. Just like how avoidance doesn’t mean that either.
And you get to take your time with it.
Comment zen for today …
We all have stuff. We’re all working on our stuff. We’re practicing.
Things I’ve learned: Kitchen Table Edition
So. I scribble a running List of Useful Stuff whenever my duck and I are teaching a program. 40% journal. 60% strategizing tool.
We use the same basic breakdown as in the Friday Chicken of dividing stuff into the hard and the good, so I know what to do differently next time … and what was an accidental stroke of genius.
I shared one of these lists with you guys after the North Carolina Wacky Brain Training Weekend.
And I’m doing it again. This time with my Kitchen Table program.
And in case you missed my love letter a couple weeks ago, I love the Kitchen Table. Madly. But I still have a list. A useful one.
Important disclaimer:
This post is not even slightly a “hey, you should sign up for it” thing because ew. Also because I already have 70 people on the damn waiting list, which is plenty.
Most of the people who joined in 2009 are staying, so I don’t even know if the waiting-list-ers are going to get in this year.
So this post is a way for me to process what I’ve learned from running this program for a year. And to help you learn from some of my dumbass-but-well-intentioned mistakes, in case you ever want to do something like this yourself.
Things I’m going to keep doing because they were outrageously great!
Being clear about this only being a place for my right people.
I was very careful about who I let in, and the few mistakes at the beginning quickly sorted themselves out.
Having people apply to get in was part of it. But a big part was that my Right People are awesome. Whatever magic thing allows me to curate fabulousness resulted in the best group I’ve ever worked with.
The group leaders.
Having small groups where people could work on their stuff without having to do it right in front of everyone was super helpful.
Not everyone used them, but the people who did got crazy support.
And the people I chose to group-lead were (and are) terrific. Watching them biggify through the process of being in this biggified position has been amazing.
Pretty much all of them have grown their businesses like mad this year. The fact that the Kitchen Table has been a part of that makes me happy!
Underpromising and overdelivering.
That’s pretty much always a smart thing to do in business, but Selma and I took this to a completely different level.
We promised two calls a month, but threw in bonus calls and visiting experts all over the place.
We sent presents. We created a manual. We got responsive tech support.
We biggified people. We brainstormed ways to make monies. I comped them into Fluent Self classes.
Within a month, there was already a forum thread called “If the Kitchen Table ended tomorrow, it would still have been totally worth the money and more”. Fabulous.
Adding requirements.
For the new people in both the second and third quarters, I added requirements for getting in.
Having requirements = yay. Having relevant requirements = even better.
Mine made sure people would already be familiar with basic concepts, and were committed to clear, compassionate communication.
The chatroom.
At the time — when launching this was the most complicated, expensive thing I’d ever done — I wasn’t sure if I wanted to spend even more money for bells and whistles.
Turns out adding the chatroom was the best thing in the entire world.
It’s where we get goofy while on the calls. This is where we come up with product ideas for each other. This is where madcap biggified joint ventures get born, where we problem-solve and dissolve into hilarity, and where we love each other up!
Spending lots of time on communication stuff.
We’ll be doing an entire quarter on that this coming year. But the result of all the work we put in on this is beautiful, beautiful clarity.
People ask for exactly what they need and how they need it. It’s just really clean.
Having a place to whine where no one is going to judge you for whining.
Oh, the genius that is CrankyPants McGrumbleBug’s Kvetchtastic Whine Bar.
People get to have their hard and receive acknowledgment, without having to take advice or try to fix anything. Huge.
Letting people have their own experience and not try to dictate it for them.
It’s something everybody has learned. And it’s good stuff. Important stuff.
And a few things I’m totally going to do differently next time.
Thinking I was starting a “membership site” program.
Hahahaha. Boy, was I ever wrong.
Okay. Admittedly the Table turned out to be something way better. It turned out to be a real community, where people genuinely take care of themselves and each other.
It’s like nothing else I’ve ever been a part of.
But, because of that, it’s a small intimate space that takes a lot of work. And to stay that amazing, it needs to remain small and intimate.
It took me a while to make peace with that, and to stop thinking of it as “this amazing thing that isn’t a money-generating-thing and needs to become one”.
Everything got better when I started realizing that what I had created was the best place in the entire world, and that the Kitcheners are actively demonstrating the power of everything I teach.
That will keep my business supported.
At some point I will create something else that’s more like a membership site – a place that can actually grow, but I’m viewing the Table as a magical, contained, safe place to nurture ideas and projects with an extraordinary community of smart-as-hell goofballs.
Hugely underestimating … everything.
Having no idea how active the Table was going to become, I worried about all the wrong things.
Like, what if no one talks in the forum boards?
Hilarious. My people are vocal. And smart. And have a lot to say. I quickly realized the physical impossibility (what with only 24 hours in a day and everything) of actually answering more than a small percentage.
So I read everything that goes up. But I gave everyone else permission to not have to. Because it’s crazy.
The Beta group. What a disaster.
Honestly? I had a beta group because it’s what everyone does.
Not enough thought went into this. And what did was fear-based — not very useful. I will not do this again.
My plan had been twofold: 1) to have the forum already active so that when new people came in it wouldn’t be all awkward and weird, and 2) to use the Beta-ers as a pool to take Group Leaders from.
Right. Of the 12 people in the Beta Group, only two ended up being really active at the Table, and none of them ended up being Group Leaders.
Instead, I had plenty of great leaders to choose from those who paid to get in.
Payments.
People begged to be able to split up the tuition. And from having been that person who couldn’t afford anything for so many years, I have a soft spot the size of California.
Smart Business Savant Me knows that if you let people pay monthly, they think of it as a monthly thing.
Which it isn’t. It’s a sum experience. It’s not just the group — it’s the library of the calls, it’s the classes, it’s the discounts, it’s having all those people actively biggifying you. It’s being part of an incredibly unusual thing.
I can’t say I regret making exceptions, because some of the astonishing biggification success stories at the Table have come from people I agreed to let make payments.
But the thing I was worried about happened, too. Some people treated the Kitchen Table like a magazine subscription. That’s not going to happen again.
Underestimating costs and not charging nearly enough.
There were months where I was paying over $6,000 to just one of my assistants.
Different people paying different amounts at different times and with different start dates got really hard to track.
It also took a while to train the Kitcheners to bring their issues to the Table instead of bringing them to someone who gets paid by the hour.
Not to mention unexpectednesses like hiring tech people who couldn’t finish what they started and then having to move the whole thing to its own server because it was slowing down my other sites …
Admin costs, tech costs, time costs and emotional costs were just huge.
Obviously it was totally, totally worth it because it’s the best thing I’ve ever created and I am one proud momma, believe you me.
But ow.
Especially since I hadn’t yet discovered that it was going to have to stay small to stay cool.
On the other hand, I didn’t know what unbelievably inspiring things people were going to get from it. Which brings us to …
The SURPRISES
Where to begin?
The popcorn effect, where people started leaving their hated day jobs and biggifying their own thing?
Maybe watching people go from being terrified of even having a website to having popular blogs with prestigious biggified guest-blogging gigs.
These amazing people creating products, starting programs with each other, working through their stuff, getting over debilitating fears, growing into their own skins.
People coming to work on one set of problems, and then healing family stuck, body image stuck, relationship stuck, biggification stuck all at the same time. Crazy.
And the love. I had no idea how fiercely loyal people would become about helping each other through anything and everything.
Hell, I had no idea it was going to be like this. I am in awe.
Going to end this now.
I have lots more to say but this is already the longest post in the entire world, even for me.
So I’ll just say that this has been the biggest, hardest, most rewarding learning experience of my life.* And I’m weirdly happy about doing it for another year.
* And not in the “wow, surviving that avalanche was quite a … uh … learning experience” sense either.
Comment zen for today.
What I can do without: criticism, judgment, shoulds, advice.
What would be delightful: things you’ve learned (hard and/or good) from putting on a show or teaching a program, stuff you’re thinking about, things like that. 🙂
Item! The meme beach house rides again!
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.
I’m having the crappiest week in recent memory.
And the post I’ve written for today is no longer relevant. So I’ve been trying to think of what might cheer me up.
And the only thing I could come up with was pretending it’s Wednesday. So even though, last I heard, it was definitely TOOZDAY, we’re Itemizing.
Because pretending is where I’m at today.
Plus, you have no idea how much fun it is to run around yelling Item!
Highly recommended. Shall we?
Item! Post No. 41 in a series that allows me to justify the time I spend following links for ridiculous things I find on Twitter.
Item! Ohmygod! There IS a meme beach house!
Okay.
So. You know how every Friday Selma and I do a Friday Chicken post … and there’s always the fake band of the week?
And we pretend that the fake band of the week is playing live at the Meme Beach House?
The meme beach house thing is because Stu (my stupid voice to text software) stupidly brilliantly translated “people will hate me and be jealous” to people will hang at my meme beach house.
Anyway. Get this.
There is a Meme Beach House. It’s called … Meme’s Beach House. And it’s in South Carolina.
It’s “a relaxing get away located in one of the most kid-friendly, family-oriented vacation spots in Myrtle Beach.”
Plus there’s apparently great fishing. Hilarious! Heard about it through my friend David who is the one who introduced me to Selma.
Item! Cask conditioned ale, people.
This isn’t such a big deal if you’re lucky enough to live in the UK.
Here we have to take it where we can find it.
So imagine my excitement to find this nutty, wonderful guy named Ted Sobel.
He’s in Oakridge, Oregon (which is tiny and nowhere), but wasn’t going to let that stop him.
From anything, really. But definitely not from opening an awesome pub called Brewers Union Local 180, and focusing on cask ale. Swoon.
He blogs about his trials, travails and pretty much anything else even slightly related here.
Support this guy in any way you can. He needs it.
And expect to read a Friday Chicken that’s all about my adventures in Oakridge, because I plan on having some.
Item! People suck.
This is not so much news as the title/concept of Troy’s great post.
I adore Troy. He’s one of the funniest people at the Twitter bar. He’s pretty much always either annoyed or appalled, and for all the right reasons. He is a gleefully terrible speller.
Oh, and his tagline is “Swimming through sarcastic surf where digital waves crash violently on the beach of all that is good and pure.”
What’s not to like? Just thinking about him and his particular brand of determined bitterness makes me happy. What can I say. Sarcasm loves company.
This particular post, though was especially sweet, somehow.
“Yesterday my son once again protested the necessity of scholastic boredom. However, what caught my attention was that instead of the familiar ‘school is not fun’ critique, my son didn’t want to venture into the land o standardized testing for a more disturbing reason……”
He’s @tdjensen on Twitter.
Item! A completely delightful tale of a very odd cafe.
This post is called Kashiwa Mystery Cafe and you absolutely have to read it.
It’s marvelous.
The bit I’m quoting has nothing to do with the actual post, but I’m quoting it anyway because it made me laugh. Which, sadly, does not happen as often as it should, given that there is not really a shortage of funny in the world.
“In some regions of China, for example, it’s normal to be followed for blocks by plucky street vendors, with sooty caps and using the Chinese word for “guv’nor” (??), trying to sell the hapless tourist genuine 24k goldique watches, small angry turtles, expired pudding, and the like.
But that simply doesn’t happen in Japan — just like it also probably doesn’t happen in China either because I’ve never been there and this entire paragraph is based only on bad movies and stereotypes.”
And now you have to go read about that crazy, wonderful cafe.
Got to this from the lovely @relsqui on Twitter.
Item! A call about Sovereignty! Awesome.
I’ve written quite a lot about Sovereignty — the sometimes elusive quality of not giving a damn what other people think and just being who you are.
Hiro is teaching a class. On this. On Friday. And not charging for it.
“Dear trolls, trying so hard to be good friends, to keep us travelers safe from harm. They are loyal. And notoriously short-sighted. They can’t see much beyond the ends of their noses.
So, to them, that path to freedom that feels so solid under my feet is a blur of what-ifs and yes-buts, of thorn and thistle, precipice and danger. “
Read her post about it and sign up.
She’s @hiroboga on Twitter.
Item! Professional jealousy.
This post is from Luann Udell.
“There’s something no one will tell you, when you start your journey pursuing your art.
It can get lonely out there.”
She’s @LuannUdell on Twitter.
Item! Everything is (still) a bar.
My wonderful friend Nathan Bowers who was one of my first friends at the Twitter bar shares my propensity to turn everything good into a bar.
Only because it’s the best metaphor there is. If you’re me.
His post called Customer Support + Product Registration is my favorite circle of user experience hell: totally great.
“My ideal customer/vendor relationship is like the bar where everyone knows your name.
What big companies miss is that instead of using technology and bureaucracy to shield themselves from relationships, they can use technology to approximate the Cheers experience.”
Yay.
He’s @nathanbowers 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.
I wrote a post about the value of not practicing.
Or at least about how it’s not even slightly the end of the world.
It’s about deguiltifying and remembering that the practice will be there for you when you need it. And about how flailing around is still a good thing.
Also a terrific post from Bill about doing Shiva Nata (“it’s like kung fu, but without the killing“). Awesome.
And wise words from Amy about how the not-failing kind of flailing is helping her feel less like an uninspired poo-poo head. Which just made me so happy to read.
Item! Comments! Here’s what I want this time:
- Things you’re thinking about.
- Things that are good for up-cheering aside from pretending it’s Wednesday even when it isn’t.
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 (eventually, like tomorrow) Blustery Windsday. Back to real posting soon.
Very Personal Ads #20: no love letters this time.
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 it.
Thing 1: Rest and recovery.
Here’s what I want:
This week of mad retreating with the fabulous Barbara Sher has been all kinds of amazing. And also completely exhausting.
I need some sleep-catching-up time. And a long bath or two.
And whatever else will help me ease back into my regular routine with fewer aches and pains, whether physical, mental or emotional.
Ways this could work:
I can try to remember that resting is investing in myself and my business, because a clear head is the best thing I can give myself.
I can give myself permission to grumble, throw things and generally fall apart when I need to.
Oh, and I can learn from stupid past experiences, and remember how important it is to treat recovery time like it’s a superstar.
People can remind me in non-annoying ways.
My commitment.
To remember that recovery is pretty much always crappy and miserable, so this isn’t a sign that my world is falling apart. It just is what it is.
To notice how much support I have (a lot).
To ask my gentleman friend to be the Voice of Reason for me when I get overwhelmed.
Thing 2: A resolution to a problem.
Here’s what I want:
I have a couple uncomfortable conversations coming up.
Right now I’m too upset to do the talking. Too upset to NVC-it, other than with myself. Too much hurt.
I need a way to stay in sovereignty, and still resolve things.
Here’s how this could work:
A mediator.
An understanding.
Magic. I don’t know.
My commitment.
I’m going to cry a lot, so I’m going to try to give myself permission to cry a lot.
I will try to be fair.
And to ask for help.
Thing 3: Right People for the Kitchen.
Here’s what I want:
My kind of people for the 2010 run of my fabulous Kitchen Table program.
A big chunk of the 2009 people are signing up for another year, so we won’t have a gazillion openings, but there will be some.
And I want my Right People in there. I don’t want to have to actually promote this thing, because I don’t do stuff like that. So they need to just show up.
Ways this could work.
The waiting list of people who want to be notified is already pretty substantial, but maybe there are people who have been thinking about getting on the waiting list.
And they could remember that this is it. This is the thing.
And they can get all excited about the idea of spending a year getting support, help, biggification and encouragement from me, Selma and some of the brightest, kookiest people ever.
And then they apply to get in. And we all jump around.
My commitment.
To remind myself that the people I get in my programs are always refreshingly great, and they’re my Right People and I adore them.
And that this new year of the Kitchen is going to be just as life-changingly fantastic as 2009. Probably even better.
To keep having fun.
Progress report on past Very Personal Ads.
Just to update you on what’s happened since last time.
Last week I wrote a love letter to the Kitchen Table. It wasn’t an ask. It was just a love letter. And writing it was really helpful for me.
I’m so glad I did that. It just gave me all kinds of clarity.
The other part was about getting help staying grounded while on this retreat thing.
And that was hard. But I also had help.
Amna was there, and she was a lifesaver. I did yoga every day. I got through the hard parts. It wasn’t always smooth, but I was working on it.
The next time I have an ask related to surviving something, I think I’m going to play around with how I ask it. Maybe it needs to be more about support and less about surviving. We’ll see.
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. I commit to giving time and thought to the things that people say, and to interact with their ideas and with my own stuff as compassionately and honestly as is possible.
Thanks for doing this with me!