What's in the gallery?

We dissolve stuck and rewrite patterns. We apply radical playfulness to life (when we feel like it!), embarking on internal adventures (credo of Safety First). We have a fake band called Solved By Cake. We build invisible sanctuaries, invent words and worlds, breathe awe and wonder.

We are not impressed by monsters. Except when we are. We explore the connections between internal territories and surrounding environment to learn what marvelously supportive delicious space feels like, and how to take exquisite care of ourselves. We transform things.* We glow wild.**

* For example: Desire, fear, worry, pain-and-trauma, boundaries, that problematic word which rhymes with flaweductivity.

** Fair warning: Self-fluency has been known to lead to extremely subversive behavior, including treasuring yourself unconditionally, unapologetically taking up space, experiencing outrageously improbable levels of self-acceptance, and general rejoicing in aliveness.

What's in the gallery?

We dissolve stuck and rewrite patterns. We apply radical playfulness to life (when we feel like it!), embarking on internal adventures (credo of Safety First). We have a fake band called Solved By Cake. We build invisible sanctuaries, invent words and worlds, breathe awe and wonder.

We are not impressed by monsters. Except when we are. We explore the connections between internal territories and surrounding environment to learn what marvelously supportive delicious space feels like, and how to take exquisite care of ourselves. We transform things.* We glow wild.**

* For example: Desire, fear, worry, pain-and-trauma, boundaries, that problematic word which rhymes with flaweductivity.

** Fair warning: Self-fluency has been known to lead to extremely subversive behavior, including treasuring yourself unconditionally, unapologetically taking up space, experiencing outrageously improbable levels of self-acceptance, and general rejoicing in aliveness.

Very Personal Ads #19: Love letter

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

So last week I wrote an “awkward love letter to a place that might or might not have a labyrinth”.

This week it’s a different kind of love letter. Not the awkward kind. Not one to something I’m trying to find. One to something I already have.

Background: I’ve been getting ready to welcome in the second year of my crazy-wonderful Kitchen Table program in January.

Which means that I’ve been doing huge amounts of reflecting on this past year (and — surprise! — will probably be sharing some of this reflecting with you in future posts), and what those experiences have given me.

But right now I’m just feeling overwhelmed by love. Love for what is right now, and the way it is right now.

So before I make an ask for the Right People for next year (probably next week), I want this week’s Very Personal Ad to be a place to be in appreciation.

Dear kooky, beautiful Kitchen Table,

I don’t always tell you this, because I am not a gushy, lovey-schmoo kind of person, but … man, I am so outrageously full of love for you.

What I love about you:

Your name.

From a strictly “business” perspective, I admit that it might not be the best metaphor in the world. Since the thing you have become is so much more than “at the kitchen table with Havi and Selma“.

So much more than late-night brainstorming and support and cameraderie.

But I love the hominess of it. The look of it. The comfort and hanging-out-ness of it all.

The people.

Someone said that I “curate” awesome people. And I don’t know what that magic something is that lets me find the exact right combination of people, but I genuinely like all of you.

And I especially like the mix.

Man, you are all sooooooo refreshingly different from each other.

Sure, each of you thinks that he’s the outsider or that she’s the weird one (or the non-hippie one), but really, every single person brings something cool and unique. And the combination of all those qualities meeting is just perfect.

Hanging out in the chatroom during calls. Goofing off. You guys are honestly some of the silliest people I know.

And some of the smartest. You probably just think that everyone else is the smart ones, but believe me, I like the way your mind works.

I love what I have learned from you.

I have learned to be really, really honest. I have learned about apologies. I have learned how to stop shepherding and start being a very different kind of leader. I have learned about clearing out my own stuff.

And I’ve watched you guys become different people. Or more yourselves. I don’t know.

I’ve watched you go from not feeling sure of what you want or how to ask for it … to being the kind of person who can communicate really clearly about what they need and how they want to receive it.

I have learned how crazy powerful it is when you have a bunch of people who have learned how to ask for what they need.

I have met my own hard.

This year has had its hard moments. I’ve doubted myself. I’ve had to untangle my own stucknesses.

It’s been one hell of a training in what it really means to be a leader. You guys have been with me for that process too. And I appreciate it so much.

The classes.

I love coming up with the classes. Love teaching. Love the fact that at some point each class devolves into hilarity. And I especially love the Ask Havi Anything days. Ooh, and I love it when someone else teaches and then I get to run wild in the chat room.

CrankyPants McGrumbleBug’s Kvetchtastic Whine Bar.

This might be my favorite part. And yes, I am a total genius for coming up with it!

Because it is so wonderful to have a forum (literally!) to complain about stuff without anyone trying to fix it. And then — once the stuck has been listened to — I always know when I’m ready for advice, and there’s a forum for that too.

It’s just such an amazing experience to show up with a stuck (and I’ve shown up with mine a thousand times) and have everyone be so completely understanding and comforting. And funny.

Also I appreciate the extremely creative and entertaining cursing that sometimes goes on in the whine bar. But also the kittens.

The changes.

When I look at people who back in January were stuckified about everything and terrified of the thing they wanted to be doing (or beating themselves up for not knowing what that is yet) …

And I see where you are now: strong, capable, confident, knowledgeable about yourself and your stuff, able to ask for help when you get stuckified, no longer thinking that receiving help and support says something bad about you

It must makes me want to cry. You guys are serious helper mice. So gifted. And even if you can’t see it or hear it yet (or you just get occasional flashes of it), I know it.

I can feel the truth of it.

And it’s so beautiful it makes me cry. To prevent impending gooey-ness (or more gooey than I’m already getting into), on to my commitment.

My commitment for the remainder of this year and for this coming-right-up year:

I will keep loving you.

I will continue to read every single thread, even when there are a gazillion of them, as there so often are.

I will keep maintaining this space, clearing it and caring for it.

I will rewrite parts of the welcome orientation manual thing, to make them more clear and to help you guys figure out how to get the most love and support possible.

I’ll do everything I can to make sure that the group leaders are getting what they need.

I will try to remember to trust myself and this weird, wonderful process that is all of us working on our stuff together and individually.

The other thing I want to say.

This one is an ask.

And it’s about maintaining my energy this week while I’m on retreat.

Here’s what I want:

To not get overwhelmed or cut off from myself. To stay centered and grounded, whatever that means for me this week.

Ways this could work:

I could remember that this is what I want. I could remember my tendency to get disconnected when I’m experiencing too much.

And I can keep working on the sovereignty stuff.

My commitment.

I will notice what’s going on for me. I will remind myself to stay grounded. I will ask for help when I need it. Or try to. 🙂

Progress report on past Very Personal Ads.

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

I asked for the perfect spot to lead a retreat. With a love letter. And got a bunch of good leads. Will have the short list very very soon. Tomorrow, I hope.

And no news on a power-hitting outfielder for the Giants. I think I should have mentioned that we don’t want Milton Bradley, if the Cubs are listening. Which they should be. Anyway, I think that ask was mostly just to make me feel better.

Also, remember two weeks ago when I asked for support cranking out blog posts? Nothing happened with that last week, but yesterday I wrote one in the airport and three on the plane. Unheard of.

Especially since I can pretty much never work on the plane. But it was so quiet that it totally worked. Yay.

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!

Friday Chicken #66: the transition edition

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

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

Sixty-six Chickens, ladies and gentleman. I don’t know why that’s exciting but it is.

And I’m in North Carolina! Again! Remember when I had a whole Friday Chicken called the … North Carolina Edition?

That’s because I kind of didn’t expect to be back there any time in the near future.

And now I’m there again. Because Barbara Sher (swoon!) is teaching a retreat there, and I wouldn’t miss it for anything.

The hard stuff

I hab a code.

Spent all week with this stupid cold that didn’t want to go away.

It makes all the good things in my life (sleep! yoga! dancing!) way less fun.

Stupid red nose.

In transition. I mean, in transit. Well, both.

We (me, Selma, the gentleman friend) got back from Vancouver Saturday night. Thursday morning I was on a plane again.

So the whole week was just playing catch-up and then off and running again.

Very disconcerting. And hard to concentrate.

My clothes are all destroyed.

I need to hedge here and say something like “don’t think I’m crazy buuuuuuut”. And now I’m hedging my hedge.

Okay.

There’s this screwed-up pattern in my life that makes no sense. Whenever I go through transition-ey stuff in my life, my clothes fall apart. I know.

Maybe it makes too much sense. Anyway.

Buttons fall off. Holes develop in places that you’d never even have thought possible. Things tear, stain, shrink, come undone.

Even new and new-ish things start unraveling and ripping all over the place.

The timing on this is incredibly irritating. And that’s all I want to say about that.

Got overloaded in a bad way.

I participated in a teleseminar on Sunday that was seven hours long. Without breaks.

Not that it wasn’t fascinating and powerful, because it was.

It’s just that my brain and body can’t function under those circumstances. I got kind of … energetically swamped. And everything shut down.

And then I had to spend the rest of the day crying in bed and the next day or so recovering.

Not from the material. Just from the physical experience of being on a phone and interacting with other people for that long.

Just another reminder of how I really need to make taking care of myself top priority, and to remember the sovereignty thing.

I broke Stu.

Not for good or anything. But I stepped on his head and now he has a crack. It’s a long, horrible story that I don’t feel like getting into.

Travel stress.

Gah. Stuck on runways. Delays. Missed flights. Arriving in North Carolina midnight after everything I did to avoid that outcome.

Little frustrations and irritations.

I’d spent the whole week looking forward to this one dance class. And then, somehow, it slipped my mind and we ended up running really late and stressing.

And there seemed to be lots of little moments like this, where I would lose track of something, panic, and have to come down.

The good stuff

Stuff working despite the frustrations and irritations..

So, even though there was just no way we were going to make to dancing on time, we got there on time.

And found a parking place right in front. Which has never happened. Nothing even close. And I’ve been going there since June.

Or then the car battery died right when my gentleman friend was supposed to be taking me to the airport yesterday morning.

But then a cab arrived within two minutes (which is unheard of where we live) and the driver was listening to NPR and it was just perfect.

Stuff like that.

On retreat! Retreeeeeeeeeeeaaaat!

As we know from this past summer, I love retreating.

And I’ve wanted to study with Barbara ever since reading Wishcraft. This is the last time she’s teaching this particular program, so I’ve very excited.

Travel not sucking. Astoundingly.

I have a lot of Friday Chicken updates about sucky travel stuff, and more than one Very Personal Ad asking for harmony and ease and stuff like that while going from one place to another.

Well.

This week — amid the suck — I’ve managed to have some of the best, most comfortable travel ever.

On the way back from visiting Hiro, my gentleman friend and I were two of the five passengers on the flight. No line at customs. No line going through security. It was like magic.

And yesterday, on my way to North Carolina?

No line going through security. Nothing. No hassling. The terminal was quiet. The plane was full but there was one empty seat and it was … next to me.

We were told there wasn’t going to be any room in the overhead bins but right above my seat there was an empty bin.

No crying babies. No loud-talkers. I didn’t even put in earplugs. And I usually live in my earplugs while I’m traveling.

Basically the whole thing (well, until the part when everything went to hell) was such smooth sailing that I think I might have accidentally gone through an opening in the matrix and popped into one of my parallel lives where things actually work.

Oh, and I found a penny!

I worked through a stuck.

Remember on Tuesday when I had a mediated interaction with a stuck?

Well, the thing that I was busy not doing has been done and is all taken care of. Thank you, mediator mouse.

Working on my dammit list.

It makes me happy.

And that’s a good thing, dammit.

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 it’s:

Sparkly Freckle

Jolie: “And then my niece pointed at my nose ring and said ‘Aunt Jolie, I love your sparkly freckle!'”
Me: “Isn’t that a band?”
Jolie: “Well, actually it’s just one guy.”

No Stuisms this week, sadly, because Stu is in recovery mode and also because he didn’t say anything that funny. I hope it’s not connected to having been stepped on.

Because if I thought stepping on him would make him work, I would have done that ages ago.

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.

Revisiting the dammit list.

I’m at the airport. Again.

And thinking about how much I love my dammit list, dammit.

And how each time I add something to it, my life gets better.

Well, my stuff comes up and then I work through it and then my life gets better.

Perfect example: the fact that I didn’t wake up at dark-thirty today.

A few months ago I decided it was hazardous to my sanity to keep taking flights that leave at 6 a.m.

Because even if I pack the night before and skip my morning yoga and meditation, it still means going to bed at a million o’clock, and getting up five minutes later.

Which sucks.

So I tried to institute a reassuring “I only fly at reasonable hours, dammit!” policy.

This would also be the “No red-eye flights anymore dammit!” policy and the “I’m not going to spend the entire day bleary-eyed and confused, dammit!” policy.

And then all my who do you think you are stuff kicked in.

The me-who-used-to-be-poor thought this was extravagant. And arrogant. Like, after all those years of having no choices and no options, how can you suddenly have these ridiculous standards?

Me, in my head: “How can you be so spoiled? You should just shut up and say thank you that you can travel places. And be done with it. It’s enough.”

So I had to work on it.

A lot.

It took a while. I mean, not that I’m done with it. But mostly done.

I asked myself a lot of questions. Like:

— Can we experiment with this?
— Can we see what happens to my emotional state when we travel under conditions that are supportive and not destructive?
— Is it possible that this will mean less recovery time after traveling, in which case it might end up being an investment in myself and my business?
— Am I going to live my whole life choosing discomforts so that me-who-suffered-and-survived will feel like she had a purpose?

I’ve had to take a lot of time to acknowledge everything that Survivalist Me, as Hiro calls her, has done for me so that she could agree to go take a nap once in a while.

Here’s what happened.

Much to my astonishment, having this new policy on my Dammit List has not been crazy expensive.

It turns out that if you book your flights far enough in advance, it’s not a big difference. And it takes much less time to find a flight when you’re operating under the “only at reasonable times” rule.

And it turns out that recovery time is substantially less intense that way, so I get back to work and productive-mode sooner.

And that my nervous system is less likely to get thrashed, so I do better when I arrive.

Oh, and the Portland airport is waaaaaaaaaaay less crowded at say, 8:30 a.m. than it is at 6 a.m. The last two times I’ve done this, there has been no line at all going through security.

Basically, everything is better. By a lot.

So now I’m adding things to my Dammit List. Like mad.

Sure, I know it will trigger some stuff.

I know I’ll have new things to work on and through.

But it’s worth it.

Next week I’ll let you know what’s going on the list.

In the meantime, I’m going to put as many things on my dammit list as I want, dammit!

Item! Wednesday needs to stop sneaking up on me.

Fluent Self Item!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.

Seriously? Wednesday?

I don’t get it. Especially since that seems to indicate that tomorrow might be Thursday and I’m not sure how I feel about that. Moving on. Items!

Item! Post No. 39 in a series that is apparently self-perpetuating, because people refuse to stop being cool, weird or interesting — or doing cool, weird, interesting things.

Item! You need a calendar, right?

Since I already spend way too much time in the online store of Leah Piken Kolidas online store, falling in love with her paintings, the news that yes, she did a calendar this year made me really, really happy.

I’m not even such a calendar person, but yes, it would be kind of nice to know what month it is. Or what day it is, for that matter.

And if I can see one of Leah’s gorgeous pieces each month (other than her painting that’s hanging in my hallway), life is good. So I ordered one and can’t wait to get it.

Here’s the coolest part.

If you pre-order the calendar by November 30th, she’ll do a personal drawing on your birthday square in the calendar.

Nice!

She’s @leah_art on Twitter.

Item! Yup. The flexible umlaut!

This bit from the much adored Nancy Friedman made me laugh. And cringe.

I’m so her Right People. I’m also the person who recently couldn’t buy toothpaste because it had a ludicrous non-functioning aesthetically-horrifying umlaut in the name.

She’s @fritinancy on Twitter.

Item! This completely made my week.

Every once in a while I come across something by a complete stranger that’s about one of my products or something I’ve taught.

And it always makes me go whoooooaaaaaah, right. All these smart, interesting people are using this stuff and I don’t even know them.

“I know I’m not ‘fixed’, just like that. I know it’s something I’ll have to keep working on. But I know how to maintain this. I’m confident that things won’t be as bad as they were ever again.”

I thought this was a beautiful post about working with procrastination stucknesses. And I loved that she called the post Flow.

Item! The great Italian pizza fiasco.

This is from Cate’s Culturally Teaching blog.

It’s a great story. Man. Having lived in three countries, I probably have a thousand stories like that, all hastily repressed. And yeah, her point is a good one.

“But really, we only fail in such situations if we don’t learn something from them. And from this experience, I learned to be a cultural sponge, not a cultural hammer.”

Do you know Cate?

She’s @CateBrubaker on Twitter.

Item! You have to love a man who says Quindozillion.

Ah, the delightful William S. Randall. Who has been Itemized before.

Because it takes balls to have a tagline about turning your clients into zombies.

That is an enormous amount of human life flushed down the drain That is a huge opportunity. Because the eyeballs are there. Because people don’t have to be coaxed into watching video online like they did buying stuff online 10 years ago.

Keep reading.

I have no idea why he’s not on Twitter. Dude! Come hang out at the bar!

Item! A year of yarn. No, a year of yarn.

Come on, people who are busily making me fan-socks (the kind without toes and heels, please, so I can wear them while teaching yoga, thank you!).

You need more yarn, right? Gorgeous, gorgeous yarn.

And Tara the Blonde Chicken is still doing her yarn-subscription thing, but is only letting a few more people in before she goes crazy, as related in this funny, funny post called The Yarn Mail always Rings Twice.

“If your loved ones are asking you ‘What do you want for Christmas/Hanukkah/Solstice/your birthday?’, here’s your answer: A Year of Yarn! If they’re not asking you, what’s wrong with them?

This is a particularly good test of just how close a “loved one” is: could you ask them for a Year of Yarn?

Or would they find that completely ridiculously crazy?

If they don’t blink an eye and instead say something like “Hmm…that’s 12 months of yarn for the price of 10, what a deal!”, you know have a keeper. Like, forever. If not already blood related – marry this person! Put yarn in your vows! Knit yourself a dress like this!”

She’s @blondechicken on Twitter.

Item! Flow charts never get boring.

My latest two (non-xkcd) favorites are:

Okay. And the xkcd flowcharts:

Item! Update from the land of the Peculiar & Hilarious Shivanauts!

The “peculiar and hilarious” thing comes from Melynda’s sweet bit about Butterfly Wishes.

This sweet, insightful piece from Thorin Messer is awesome. And he wrote it for me! I don’t think anyone has ever written a blog post for me.

Except, you know, ranty people who don’t like me. Which totally doesn’t count.

“When did this happen? When I was a kid, I didn’t give a shit about being good at stuff. What I liked, as a kid, I liked doing stuff. Anything. Totally wacky, goofy, even dumb stuff. Making useless, inane noises. Throwing my body around like I was a rag doll. I didn’t have to execute a perfect tango. I could jump up and down!”

He’s @thorinmesser on Twitter.

Item! Comments!

So it was really cool the other week when I got to work on my practice of how I ask for stuff and you guys gave me the best recommendations ever!

Here’s what I want this time:

  • Things you’re thinking about.
  • That song that won’t get out of your head.

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.

My stuck isn’t talking, and things get weird. Also there is a trapeze.

Alternate title: “I hesitate to call this the strangest blog post I’ve written so far because I’ve written a lot of really bizarre posts but this one might just take the cake.”

So yes. I’m a big fan of talking to blocks and interacting with stucknesses but I also think it’s useful to have someone around to negotiate for you. Because talking to the stuck is hard.

And uncomfortable.

Like when I had Cobalt mediate my conversation with my arms when my arms were on strike.

Or when I got together with the negotiator, the monster and the scribe.

Long story short? I went to have a conversation with a stuck today. And my stuck refused to talk to me. So I brought in a mediator.

It only gets more weird from there, so I guess that’s all the introduction I can give.

For some reason I’m on a stage, sitting in a tall wooden chair. The mediator enters stage right.

The mediator: So … what’s going on here?
Me: I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know.
The mediator (after a pause): Sounds like you’re feeling kind of frustrated… is that right?
Me: Uh huh.
The mediator: Okay.
Me: Sigh.
The mediator (looking around the empty stage): Where’s your stuck? I don’t see anything…
Me: I don’t know.
The mediator: Tell me a bit more about what’s going on.
Me: I don’t know!
The mediator: Alright. We can do this without the stuck too. Why don’t you just tell me what you do know.

Me: I feel so confused.
The mediator: Do you know what the stuck is about?
Me: That’s the problem. So I have this thing. And it’s a thing I want to do. And I’m not doing it. And I don’t know if the stuck is the thing or the not wanting to do it or the resistance or the resentment or all those things together and …
The mediator: I know you’ll probably smack me if I tell you to take a deep breath …
Me: Don’t say it.
The mediator: Okay.
Me: breathes

The mediator: You know, I don’t think it matters right now — for our purposes — what the source of the stuck is. This is more about your relationship with the stuck than the stuck itself.
Me: Alright.
The mediator: What do you need from the stuck?
Me: To show up so I know what it is. To stop hiding from me! To say something so I can refute it and tell it why it’s wrong.
The mediator: Ah. Okay. That might be why it’s not showing up.

Me: Oh. I see. My stuck is afraid that if it comes out of hiding I’ll try to convince it to stop being stuck?
The mediator: Or to stop being afraid … or to stop worrying about you.
Me: My stuck likes to worry about me.
The mediator: You got it.

Me (shouting offstage): Come out, stuck! I’m not going to try to talk you out of being stuck!
The mediator (raising eyebrow): Really?
Me: Whose side are you on, anyway?
The mediator: Um, I’m a mediator. That’s why you called me.
Me: Oooooof.
The mediator: You don’t have to make promises you can’t or won’t keep. You can just agree to meet with the stuck and find out what’s going on.
Me (sticking tongue out): Fine. I agree to meet with the stuck.
The mediator: Let’s do this thing.

The stuck comes shambling out and sits down in a metal folding chair that has appeared out of nowhere. There is a spotlight just in front of the chair, so the stuck seems to be even more in shadow than it already is.

The stuck is wrapped in layers of dark cloth, it could be sheets or a shroud. The shape of a person, with no body parts visible, not even a face.

The mediator: Alright. Progress. I appreciate that you’ve come out here to sit with us.
Me: Come on.
The mediator: What?
Me: Is this going to be one of those stupid Jungian things where we unveil the stuck and it turns out to be me underneath? Because that’s lame.
The mediator: No. No, it’s not you under there.
Me: It’s not?
The mediator: No.
Me: ?!?!

The mediator: There isn’t anything under there.
Me: ?!?!
The mediator: (shrugs)

Me: So … what are we doing here then?
The mediator: This isn’t really stuck. It’s just the shell of a stuck. It’s the reminder of a stuck. It’s old, old, old, residual frameworks that used to surround a stuck. But there’s nothing inside.
Me: How do you even know this stuff?
The mediator: A mediator knows many things.
Me: About Floyd Merkle’s death?
The mediator: Why would a mediator know that?
Me: (giggles)
The mediator: Sooooo … as much fun as it is quoting obscure Neil Simon movies, maybe we should get back to the stuck.
Me: You said it’s not a stuck.
The mediator: The shadow of the stuck.
Me: I told you. None of this Jungian stuff. I’m not in the mood for it.

Me: This is what I want to know. What does this stuck need from me in order to be able to heal or be transformed or whatever hippie-ass stuff happens to stuck?
The mediator: Exactly.
Me: What?
The mediator: What does this stuck — this shadow of stuck — need from you?
Me: To acknowledge that it isn’t real? But that it’s still here? And that I need it to remember that it’s just a shadow of what was?
The mediator: Bingo. I don’t know why you even need me around.
Me: Who else do I get to quote obscure Neil Simon movies with?
The mediator: I could answer that, but you won’t like the answer.

Me: So what happens now?
The mediator: Your stuck is from then. It doesn’t know that it’s now. That now you have other things to deal with. It’s not that you won’t have stuck anymore. It’s just that this particular version of stuck isn’t a part of your life anymore.
Me: But it doesn’t seem to know that.
The mediator: Yeah, it needs to come into present time. Into right now.
Me: What does that even mean? And why are you speaking in this spooky voice?
The mediator: I was kind of hoping that something would happen …

A trapeze bar descends from the ceiling. A young woman dressed in a hot pink ’80s prom dress holding a glitter-decorated scepter is sitting on it, swinging her legs. There might also be confetti.

Me: Give me a break. A freaking deus ex machina?
The mediator: It’s hard to find a way to actually show the quality of present time. We’re doing what we can here.
Me: shakes head
The mediator: Can we bring this stuck into right now? Into your current state where this stuck doesn’t live anymore?
Me: If the stuck is willing, I guess I am.
The mediator: Whose side are you on, anyway?

Me: Well, it is MY stuck.
The mediator: Your stuck that you’re not going to identify with anymore.
Me: No, I do identify with it.
The mediator: Okay. What do you need, then?
Me: For you to know that it’s hard for me to process all this stuff. It’s hard for me to recognize where I am, and what’s still my stuck and what’s my old stuck.
The mediator: Oh, sweetie. You’re feeling frustrated because you need us to acknowledge how painful this is for you.
Me: We?

The stuck is next to me now, patting my hand.

Me: Oh, stuck. The mediator is right. I’m having as much trouble letting you go as I was dealing with you when you were really there.
The mediator: Oh, it’s okay. There will be new stuck.
Me: Thanks. That’s really helpful. What’s wrong with you?
The mediator (laughs): I think we’re done for now. Is it okay if I take the stuck shadow with me?
Me: See you next time. I think I’m going to practice my lindy hop with the princess here.

Me and Present Time dance around the stage.

Curtain.

Comment zen for today:

I don’t even know what to put here.

The Fluent Self