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 Check-in #57: Brötchen! edition
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.
Right. So this was the week where we left for Germany.
This week’s Chicken is pretty much all about that.
And getting the house ready.
And reassuring people that of course, my brother will be home and there are only like, two people in the world who know my actual address, so we can really, truly stop worrying about the nonexistent Twitter Stalker Burglar. Yes.
And about the fact that I need to relearn how to speak German before my first class tomorrow.
The hard stuff
Note to self: don’t set up a class for the day after you arrive.
Not sure how I haven’t figured out that one yet. I remember the concept of jetlag, but not the experience of it.
Technical catastrophes aplenty.
The moving-of-all-my-sites to the new server has been less than smooth. Thank god we have tech pirate Charlotte on our side or I would have had to throw major temper tantrums.
The site was down. A lot. Actually, all my sites were down. And since this is … how I pay rent and support the Hoppy House family, having stuff not work was full of hard.
Also setting up the email thing was a total nightmare. As you know, I’m on
But I do have a top-secret account that only my gentleman friend and my First Mate know about and aren’t allowed to use except under very specific circumstances.
And so I didn’t notice when I wasn’t getting any email, because really, I only get about three a week. But then an important one didn’t arrive.
I wasn’t a good explainer mouse when it came time to fix this, so the tech team hooked me up with the regular accounts and not just my secret one. And then I got four hundred and thirty messages in an afternoon.
Which is why I don’t do email. Because it’s overwhelming, depressing and full of all sorts of things that I would really rather not see.
The mailbox debacle.
The way my mailbox disappeared the day before I left for Germany was beyond annoying.
Hassle hassle hassle! Still not liking it.
Travel. Stress. Ack. Eek. Etc.
Repeat as necessary.
The end of an era.
Well, not really.
But I did run out of all usable thread in my sewing kit.
This is the sewing kit I’ve had since 1994. I got it in Poland. The same trip where I got stuck in an elevator. Or as I tell it, stuck-in-an-elevator-in-Poland.
Which is totally not the same thing as getting stuck in an elevator in Switzerland. Which, for the record, has never happened. To anyone.
That might only be funny if you’ve been to Switzerland. Moving on.
The only thing left is pink thread. And light blue. All the black, brown, navy (colors that I have apparently been wearing since 1994) are done for.
It was almost a disaster, but I was saved by the fact that my gentleman friend is enormously well-prepared. And his mother is a seamstress.
The good stuff
I got to see my oldest friend!
Well, not my oldest friend. Because that would be Douglas, the 80-year old reader of this blog and most favoritest of persons.
But the friend I have had for the longest. My friend Noah, who is one week older than me and lived right down the street from me.
We run into each other every few years. Once in Madison. Once in Tel Aviv. And this week in Minneapolis.
And it was wonderful. We ate Indian food and I got to meet his ladyfriend, who is fabulous.
And more friends!
I got to see Susan Marie. I adore Susan Marie.
What a treat!
And now we’re (we = me, Selma and my gentleman friend) in Berlin with Andreas and Lars.
And making little arrangements to see all sorts of different people that we only get to see once a year, all of whom are absolutely lovely.
Improvements! Whee!
The place we stay every year is now hooked up with wireless internet, which means that my gentleman friend and I don’t have to take turns plugging in to get online.
We’ve always managed okay with the back-and-forth, but not having to do that makes internet work-life way easier. Hooray for ease. I love it.
I have two new workshops in the States.
I can’t give you details yet (soon!) but there’s some really exciting stuff coming up.
So just twirl around the room with me in the meantime.
Brötchen!
The real reason I go to Germany every year. Yum.
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.”
So this week, straight from Twitter, I bring you:
Interdimensional Mailbox
Me: “Went to pick up mail and my mailbox (the one I paid for 14 months in advance) no longer exists. Interesting. And by interesting I mean ‘give me back my mail and my money, you ————-!’ and then a lot of creative cursing in Arabic.”
Shannon: “Eep — your mailbox has gone interdimensional! (Of course, I hear that Interdimensional Mailbox is just one guy).”
Nice.
And … STUISMS of the week.
Stu is my paranoid McCarthy-ist voice-to-text software who delights in torturing me misunderstanding me. I can’t stand him.
Stu got kind of beat up on the airplane. The earpiece is now a bit uncomfortable.
But he did just say, “Stew that kind oh feet up on the hair train” when I tried to tell you that he got kind of beat up on the airplane … so apparently he’s back to himself. Whew.
- “it’s so Cisco” instead of in San Francisco
- “Why I’m aging oak or impossibly 1 million causes” instead of I’m teaching oh, possibly a million classes
- “the tree point rites” instead of three plane rides
- “hand authorities” instead of and for a smooth
- “you ass” (!) instead of new paragraph
- “under the host’s mists” instead of under the circumstances
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.
Travel. Light.
Okay, this isn’t really related to anything, but a bunch of people have been asking me for travel tips.
Maybe because of the past couple months teaching workshops in California, New Mexico and North Carolina? Though it could also have to do with having moved countries three times.
And since I’m probably on a plane as you’re reading this, on the way to my yearly teaching trip in Berlin for two months, I guess now is as good a time as any.
Though I really have to say, I’m no expert.
You’d probably be better off just paying attention to Chris Guillebeau. Or re-reading that Tim Ferris piece about how to pack smart.
But if you want some of the how, I guess I can do that. Well, I can tell you what Selma and I do at least.
This is the dorkiest piece of advice I’ve ever given.
I really only have one travel tip, and here it is:
Travel light.
I know that’s kind of annoying.
Like, if I could travel light I would.
Or, if I knew how to travel light and didn’t have a million things I needed, that would work too.
So I apologize. But it’s what I’ve got.
So. Here are some of the things I do, both “in the hard” (literally, in real life) and “in the soft” (in my head).
Traveling light: in the hard.
- Socks. I don’t bring them. I bring 2 pairs and then I buy socks in Berlin. I used to live near a weird dollar-store type place in the east, so I usually go there.
- Warm clothes: I bring one sweater and one jacket that fold up small. If I need anything else there, I go to Humana (the huge second-hand place) and buy a sweater for a couple euros.
- Before I leave Berlin, I take whatever I’ve bought there and leave it at one of the Free Boxes (in a cafe or a co-op or an anarchists collective or something).
- Underwear from exofficio (bring 2-3 pairs, wash in the sink, they dry super fast)
- There is an excellent Kindle app for the iPhone. Which means … not having to pack books! I buy a bunch of Kindle-ized books and keep them on my phone. I was worried it would be uncomfortable reading but it’s totally not. My gentleman friend uses the Eucalyptus iPhone app for reading public-domain books, and loves it.
- Since I use baking soda or coffee grounds for shampoo and make conditioner from an egg, olive oil and lemon juice, I (hooray!) don’t need to pack stuff like that.
- And … I pretty much wear the same thing all the time anyway. So no one expects anything different when I travel!
So yeah. Really the “trick” is … not having a lot of stuff, and not worrying about it.
And I don’t know how to teach people how to do that, which is why (as I said) I might not be the right person to ask about this stuff.
Traveling light: in the soft.
Lightness. That’s the quality.
And I work with it like this:
“Even though I feel stressed and anxious because I don’t know what’s going to happen next, I’m allowed to feel stressed and anxious.
“Even though I don’t like this feeling, I’m just reminding myself that every time I’ve done this, things have worked out fine.
“Even if not everything works out fine, I’ll be taking notes for next time.
“Even if I end up hating everything, I’m getting better at being adventurous. Whee! Adventure mouse!
“Even though this is reminding me of some really hard parts of my life, I’m allowed to have those memories and I’m allowed to remind myself that now is not then.
“Even though it’s hard for me to have this lightness in my life, I’m getting better at bringing lightness into my life.
“Even though I’m totally resisting the lightness, I’m also allowed to have grounding and stability if and when I want them.”
That’s all I’ve got.
For now, at least.
Comment zen for today.
We’ve all got our stuff. We’re all working on our stuff. We try to respond to each other with as much, you know, compassion and respect as we can stand. Mensch-like: it’s how we roll.
What I’d rather not have: judgment.
What I would love: tips that you have, stuff you’ve tried, things you’re thinking about related to traveling.
Stay classy, person who has my mail.
Right. So there were a number of things I could have conceivably been doing the afternoon before flying to Germany for two months.
Like, packing maybe. Or leaving my brother instructions about weird Hoppy House-related things. Or freaking out and falling apart, as per tradition. Tradition!
Instead, I spent it looking for a new address. For me.
Here’s what happened.
My gentleman friend went out to pick up my mail.
At the mailbox.
The one I rented in October (in the spooky edition — spooky!) so people would have a place to send fan-socks and scarves for my duck without me having to reveal to anyone the actual location of Hoppy House.
Because hello, my duck is famous. And I am not crazy about stalkers a loner.
The place was shut. And dark. No sign on the door.
He did a little iPhone reconnaissance and found their number.
Out of business.
Forget the apologies. Where’s my mail?
Oh, I’m sorry. My mistake. There aren’t any apologies.
This is what the website says:
After seven years in business, we have closed our doors. We wish our customers a fond farewell, we will truly miss you.
Excuse me? You will miss me?
WHERE IS MY MAIL?
You have my mail.
Oh, and in addition to that, you also have four more months of paid rent on that mailbox, plus the key deposit.
But you know what? The thing that bothers me way more than that is the mail. I’d really like my mail.
I get a lot of it.
And — aside from extremely important things like fan-socks and love letters to Selma — there are things like checks. And stuff I’ve ordered. That I need.
Where is the part that goes, “And this is when/where you can pick up your mail that we still have”?
Let’s talk about the mensch points.
Because as lost mensch points* go, this is pretty much a worst-case-scenario.
*I took this idea from Steve Krug, genius mouse extraordinaire!
- I don’t have my mail.
- Nor do I have a mailing address anymore, apparently.
- And then I had to spend the day before leaving the country frantically searching for a new mailbox.
- Had to dig up two forms of ID and fill out a bunch of paperwork when I could have been doing any of my urgent last-minute errands.
- Had to pay extra because no one had any small mailboxes available so now I have a large one that I don’t need.
- Had to change the address on nearly ten websites and several contact pages.
- I also have a rubber address stamp for stamping envelopes. That was a waste.
- I had my assistant stamp at least eighty of those kraft shipping envelopes that we use to mail dvds … with the address. The one that no longer exists.
- Now I need a new rubber stamp.
- And stickers for all those envelopes.
- And to pay someone to sticker envelopes and write my address on them until the new stamp arrives.
- I may also have to notify various companies that the stuff they’ve sent me has to be re-sent? Awkward. And maybe not even possible.
- In terms of the money, I’m out four months mailbox rent and key deposit. Not the end of the world. But still annoying.
- That address was also tied to my credit cards. Which means, because my bank is astonishingly incompetent when it comes to address changes (that’s another ranty post), I’ll be spending several hours on the phone and also going to visit them in person.
There are so many ways to earn back mensch points.
I should know, because oh boy, I lose them all the time too.
It happens. Because you’re a human being, running an itty biz of a business.
Stuff goes wrong. For all of us. Hey, I screw up pretty much all the time.
And we lose mensch points like crazy. Sometimes without even knowing it.
But the thing that really, really helps with mensch points?
Apologizing.
Acknowledging the existence of Sucky Situations.** Making suggestions.
** I take all my cues on this from my friend Mark “mensch points” Silver, who writes apologies like nobody’s business.
So if my business had just gone through hell … and I happened to have your mail, the sign (and there would be one) might say something like this:
“Ohmygosh! Your mail! Here’s what’s going on:
We’ve had some crazy stuff happening and we’re panicking a little because this wasn’t our plan. We started this business out of love and things are hard right now.
So here’s the thing. We feel awful, because you don’t have your mail and you’re probably feeling frustrated and upset.
And because things are crazy, we don’t know when exactly we’ll be able to get you your mail. Which sucks. Sorry! Horrible!
So what we’re going to do is this: we will get someone to forward you your mail. It may take a week or two but you will get your mail.
That’s not even a very good … anything. But it’s way better than nothing. And better than nothing — especially an acknowledgment — counts.
Even when you’re bankrupt. Even when you’re in catastrophe mode.
It counts.
So I guess you’re wondering where to send the fan-socks.
Right. And no hobo fingers, please. That’s a request worth repeating, I think.
Anyway, here’s the new new address:
The Fluent Self
1526 NE Alberta Street #218
Portland, OR 97211
United States
Sigh.
Comment zen for today.
What I’d rather not have: shoulds, guilt, a lecture on how I should be more patient or less patient or more like this person or less like that person. Thank you!
What I would love: sympathy, hysterical laughter, tears, hugs, general supportive symbolic fist-shaking.
Things I’ve learned: North Carolina Edition
So whenever I’m working on a thing (running a class, teaching a workshop, putting together a product), I keep a running List of Useful Stuff.
And it mostly breaks down into the hard and the good.
Kind of like the Friday Chicken. Only with fewer made-up band names.
Except that I wind up using it as a list of the stuff I’m doing differently next time … and the things that are total keepers.
And I thought, for the dual purposes of modeling a thing I do and sharing some potential usefulness, I’d let you get a peek at my list from the North Carolina Wacky Brain Training Weekend.
Which, in case I haven’t emphasized this enough, was absolutely full of wonderful.
Things I’m going to keep doing because this was outrageously great!
Letting other people use my Healthy Boundaries spray. Hee!
Yes, it’s a spray. For healthy boundaries. I know.
I wrote about it a couple weeks ago and I’m kind of obsessed with it. And when I teach? I pretty much bathe in it. Totally works. Like a charm.
At least in my head, which is really … where I need it to work.
Anyway, I brought one bottle for me and one bottle for the group (and wrote Retreat on it with a Sharpie). Because I have healthy boundaries with my bottle of healthy boundaries. I’m hilarious.
The communal bottle lived on the stage in the room where we had our classes and yay.
It really helped. I mean, the thing itself helped. But also knowing it was there helped. And made us laugh. A lot.
If you buy a bottle for yourself, tell Deborah I want to marry her. Which is probably not a “healthy boundaries” thing to say but there it is.
The whining ritual.
I did this one in San Francisco and it was kind of cool, so we did a variation on it. Fun!
Passing Selma around.
I don’t always do this because she’s not really a people person … a people duck … a total misanthrope diva princess who especially dislikes being used as a talking stick.
But she had fun this time. And everyone loves Selma.
The Labyrinth exercise.
I’ve only ever done this one with private clients. Never in a group. It was completely awesome.
Definitely doing this one again.
Having a flip chart.
I can’t even tell you. I LOVE having a flip chart! Flip chart should be my middle name!
Also, I am phenomenally bad at using them. So bonus comic relief points there. But yeah, so much fun I can hardly stand it.
And four things I’m totally going to do differently next time.
Thing #1: system tweaks.
It’s taken me a long time (five years of teaching workshops) to realize this but I think I may have finally internalized this important understanding:
My physical and emotional well-being must be the #1 priority always … and needs to be treated as such.
Which means?
» What I’m going to do differently for next time:
My pirate crew and I need better systems in place (built in!) to make sure that happens.
And we need to ask questions like this:
- What needs to happen so that I can avoid things like being at the airport at 2 a.m. picking up a stray student when I have a full day of teaching a few hours later?
- Is there a way to build in “money-for-emergencies” into the cost of doing the program? I assume there is, but it needs to be in our system so that this is something I’m thinking about before I do my pricing meditation.
- What are some better “here are how we do things” rules for buying flights and writing itineraries for workshops?
Because having to use my phone to look up the confirmation number should not be part of traveling. And while I don’t mind getting up at 5:30 a.m. to catch a plane since that’s my normal wake-up time, I really don’t like getting up at 4. Dark-thirty!
So now we know that. And some other related stuff too.
Thing #2: the monies. Oy.
So yeah, we grossly undercharged. And I knew that, but just not to what extent.
For one thing, admin costs ended up being a shocking 17% of intake, rather than the 5–7% that I’d estimated.
Mostly because I’m on email sabbatical so I was paying people to answer questions. Lots and lots of questions.
Another big part of the admin costs had to do with turnover. I honestly had not thought about all the stuff that needs to be done.
Oh. My. God. Changing the copy on the page, notifying people, putting up a new bit in a post to tell people that yeah, there’s a space again, changing the copy back when it’s full, putting up buy buttons, taking them back down … nightmare. Big expensive nightmare.
And then another thing: it so completely did not even occur to me that the workshop would sell out way before the early bird period was halfway through.
So back in April when I was calculating what we might be likely to make, I kind of assumed there would be at least some people paying the actual price. Totally didn’t happen.
In the meantime, I’ve done three other programs and they all sold out within 48 hours. Lesson learned.
» What I’m going to do differently for next time
- A better and much more thorough FAQ (to avoid paying other people to answer questions by email).
- Collect questions now so we know what kind of stuff is likely to come up for future events.
- Put up the Here’s Where You Can Coordinate Your Travel Arrangements page earlier.
- Save on having to repeat work that’s already been done with a clearer system about things like what I want my itineraries to look like.
- Make the early bird the actual price of what we need to make. Not the discount on the actual price.
Thing #3: Avoid expensive mistakes.
So one of my intentions with this retreat was not to make use of my super-secret completely non-icky backdoor partner program where I give appreciation monies to people I know and trust who are totally promoting my stuff anyway.
And I love giving appreciation monies. But live events fill up with Right People right away, and I knew it didn’t need any external promotion.
So I thought, hey, let’s keep the cost down for the participants by not bringing the partner program into the equation.
Except that I gave this project to one of my former assistants who is so biggified that she has her own assistants. And they missed that part. It was a nine hundred and fifty dollar misunderstanding.
» What I’m going to do differently for next time:
- Somehow make the current system even more clear than it already is.
- Double-freaking-check everything before it goes live. Personally. Not “asking someone to double-check everything”.
I’ll set time aside to do it myself and I’ll remind myself that this is a worthwhile thing to be doing.
Thing #4: Policies! (Yeah, more systems stuff)
So we didn’t have a cancellation policy in place early enough. And we had committed to the space and to paying for the rooms and so on.
Of course with people who canceled a week before the event, we couldn’t process refunds even though we wanted to.
But the first people who cancelled? I had no idea how extensive the admin costs are for dealing with turnover so I didn’t think it would be such a big deal. It is.
And yes, I do realize this all should be obvious but in all my years (five) of teaching at live events I’ve never had more than one or two cancellations, and always way in advance.
» What I’m going to do differently for next time:
- Have a clearer cancellation policy that includes a non-refundable deposit, and is compassionate but firm in explaining that when we do refund what we can, it can really only happen up to a certain date because otherwise we can’t honor our financial commitment to the space.
Things I’m going to try to remember.
- Wow. My people are smart and interesting and independent and ask the most amazing questions. I knew how the whole “right people thing” worked but I really got to experience it. It was incredible.
- Whenever I teach Shiva Nata, I always get epiphanies of my own. This time it was a really big answer to a question that has been driving me crazy.
- Trust. I’m really, really good at what I do. The structure and the container work. I just need to show up and do it.
- Appreciation. All this stuff I learn from doing things “the wrong way” (the wrongest!) is useful material that I get to plug into my systems (systems!) to help take better care of me and the people who need my stuff.
It’s good.
- I want a slackline! Slackline! But more about that later.
Thanks for letting me process out loud with you guys. Love it!
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. 🙂
My annual Berlin Freak Out post: this time with extra … something.
Ah yes. This is me, freaking out about Berlin.
Actually, I love Berlin madly and obsessively so it’s not that. This is me freaking out about the fact that I’m on my way there and not ready for it. Again.
No, actually, this is me writing my “I’m freaking out about being on the way to Berlin” post.
Which is, apparently, an annual tradition.
If an annual tradition can be something you also did last year.
A bit about the annual tradition.
So it was more than a year ago. But only by a few months.
June 18, 2008 is when I wrote that post.
And then I wrote an open letter to my Twitter stalker burglar which was an unintentional useful exercise in Right People experimentation.
Because (going by email responses, comments and people’s worried quesitons), about half of my (admittedly small) readership thought it was hysterically funny and the other half didn’t really get that it was, in fact, mostly tongue-in-cheek-ish.
Though I’m pretty sure the comments from Snidely Whiplash and lolcat burglar are actually my brother. Who is, weirdly enough, just one guy.
Why this is kind of ridiculous.
This is my sixth teaching trip to Berlin. Seventh time in Germany. Fourth trip there with my gentleman friend.
We both speak German.
I know east Berlin like the back of my hand and he knows west Berlin like the back of his hand, and between the two of us and our impressive backs-of-hands … we could not be more at home.
Oh, and we have an amazing place to stay (remember Andreas who fetishizes my duck and sneakily got her into a poster that lives in the bathroom?).
Plus I have a fabulous fanbase of Shivanauts to do crazy-great workshops with, and Selma and I keep getting invited back to teach at the big Yoga Festival again (I’m thinking 2011?).
Short version: I love being in Berlin. That’s why I go there every single year for a month or so.
And yet … every single time. The freak-out of right before.
Why this is necessary. Or — if not necessary — why it makes sense.
I think because it sneaks up on me.
Never prepared.
And because Berlin also comes with its own share of baggage.
My ex is there. One of the hardest years of my life happened there. The evil ear infection (also hinted at here) the poverty, the hard.
And in addition to my history in a personal sense, there is still the history. Which is heavy and hard.
It’s a loaded place. And I’m highly sensitive and have weird intuitive abilities, so I pick up on a lot of old stuff. The buildings talk to me.
I have to do a lot of self-protecting stuff.
So it makes sense that this “ohmygod I’m about to be there” thing would happen every year.
And I’m sure next year I’ll have already shifted the pattern in miniscule ways and be freaking out at least three days earlier. Which, of course, is a good thing. But I’m not sure why. Lovely.
And, speaking of good things, the good things that make it all worth doing.
Berlin! My love! Being there is home in a really intimate, comfortable way.
If things go right my best friend Keren (whom I haven’t seen in four years) will be there.
Along with a bunch of other friends from Tel Aviv. I’ll probably end up speaking more Hebrew than German.
Also, cheese! Don’t even get me started on anything bread-and-cheese related. Roggenbrot! Butterkaese!
Not to mention cottage cheese with, oh, about 19% fat. Germany is hardcore. And I approve! Highly!
Oh, right, and all my favorite people. Like Andreas and Lars.
My wonderful students. The studios where I teach.
The point a few days or weeks into it all when my German is all of a sudden 100% back and I can just babble on happily for hours.
Drinking Carokaffee (embarrassing fake-coffee* made with barley and chicory) in my favorite cafe.
*When you haven’t had coffee in nine and a half years, faking it is pretty good, actually.
It’s part of the ritual.
Okay, so maybe at some point I’ll be able to have a ritual for this annual transition that doesn’t involve falling apart a little bit.
But where I’m at right now is working for me for now.
The noticing, the remembering, the permission, the reminding, the tuning-back-in to the thing that I need.
It’s all helpful.
Plus this post has been fun to write because I’ve gotten to re-read posts of mine from “way back” and think “Really? Was that me? My posts were kind of … stilted.”
And also, “Really? Did people really hardly comment on this blog? Where was everyone?”
I hope I’m not supposed to have a point.
Because it’s just me. Doing my ritual.
It makes me feel better.
Comment zen for today:
Please don’t try to cheer me up or calm me down. Or really anything up or down.
I also don’t want advice right now. Just be with me in the weird and the hard and the excited. That would be great. And I will update. Maybe even from my favorite cafe.