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.
Gender, elephants, biggification.
File under: inadvertent benefits to shoe-throwing.
Naomi had one hell of a shoe thrown at her the other day. Which sucks. Ow.
And while I don’t want to even slightly imply that being the object of shoe-throwing is a good thing (it’s not!), an astoundingly fascinating thing happened as a result of this particular shoe.
First of all, Naomi wrote about it. And — in doing so — she wrote about the gender thing. It’s the thing that nobody talks about.
The elephant in the room, if the room is the world of online biggification.
So I’m feeling two things.
Sad that my friend got hit by a shoe.
And relieved that she gave me an opening to write about the thing I have been consciously avoiding writing about (but really, really wanting to) for over a year.
You’ll have to take it in bits and pieces, because that’s how it is in my head. And assume that some — perhaps many — of these pieces are contradictory.
It’s a hard topic. A hard, finely nuanced topic. Both because it’s so strangely taboo, and because I have very mixed feelings about it.
So bear with me.
The conversation.
Conventional wisdom — in the circles I travel in — holds that there aren’t any gender issues. Especially when it comes to glass ceilings.
Not online. Not in the enlightened free-for-all World 2.0 that we hang out in.
And even if they do exist, you just don’t talk about it.
Partly because a lot of us agree with Naomi on this part:
“I don’t talk about women in business, because I don’t like to give the gender issue more airtime than it already gets. I think we’d have a whole lot fewer issues if we spent more time getting on with kicking ass.”
The awkward conversation.
Conversations about this stuff (when they happen, which is hardly ever) usually go like this.
Guy friend: Eh, I don’t see any glass ceilings.
Me: Right. That’s why they’re called glass ceilings. They’re invisible. At least, they are to everyone not getting bruised by banging their heads on them.
And the other conversations.
Of course, there are other circles. I could be going to women’s blogging conferences about women in blogging. We’d definitely be talking about this stuff there.
But I’m not.
Much like Naomi and our friends like Pam and Sonia and Colleen, I don’t want to be pushed into the women-in-business category. I want to be me, biggifying it up on terms that work for me.
So we hang out in the world where this stuff doesn’t get talked about. And frankly, sometimes that is easier than others.
But enough about the elephant. More about what Naomi said.
She said a few things that were so right on that I could hardly stand it. Yes, generalizations. Still very relevant.
One is that we have to stop marginalizing ourselves, hating on ourselves and shooting ourselves in the feet.
Another is that ohmygod we are constantly second-guessing whether or not we’re entitled to feel hurt and upset in any given situation. Right — it’s that sovereignty thing again.
Another is that this can lead us into making faulty decisions about what’s worth reacting to (and how to react to it).
And finally, in Naomi’s experience, male and female clients approach business in a completely different way. Women ask “is this even remotely possible?” and men ask “alright, how are we going to make this work?”
Well, that’s my experience too.
Not that men in business aren’t dealing with fear. Because they are.
I have enough male friends and clients to know that crippling, paralyzing fear does not in any way pass them by.
They suffer massive stuckification just as much and just as deeply as any women I’ve worked with.
And I’ll also note that the type of man who’s going to work with me is pretty comfortable sharing that kind of information, because otherwise he wouldn’t be hiring hippie-ass me and the accompanying duck.
But yeah, their attitude is still almost always different.
When clients explain what they’re working on, more often than not it goes like this:
Client (man): So frankly, I’m terrified. I’ve been in complete inaction for months. I need some concrete strategies to get through this and I think you’re the person who can help me. I’d like some reassurance first and then I want help coming up with a plan.
Client (woman): I don’t know. I was excited about my idea at first, but then my husband said that no one will ever buy it.* So I guess I want to know that I’m not crazy. I am, right?
That’s the difference.
*Aside to all the women whose husbands say stuff like that: Is he one of the Right People for your business? Because if he isn’t, he doesn’t get to decide whether or not people will be interested. Just saying.
What all this means for us.
I don’t know.
I don’t want to get tangled up in the “why” of gender differences, both because that would take twenty-zillion posts, and also because I don’t see the point in reinventing a wheel that people already can’t agree whether it’s square or round.
But guess what?
Marginalization. We can still talk about it — even when we don’t want to.
Even if Naomi is right that a lot of it is us doing it to ourselves and that we need to get the hell over it already.
It doesn’t mean that we have to be mad or stay mad. It doesn’t mean that we have to turn everything into a gender discussion.
But I want to be able to talk about this stuff without being shushed.
I want to be able to talk about it.
I want to be able to talk about why it is that even in places like the yoga world or in Shiva Nata where the vast majority of practitioners are women, the men rise to the top and we never talk about why that is.
About why it is that the women I know wait to get invited to speak on panels or to be approached by a publisher, while the men I know start panels and call people and make things happen.
I want to be able to ask Jonathan Fields (who is smart, sweet, thoughtful and a genuinely good guy), hey how come there aren’t any women in your awesome publishing guide?
Not so much why women aren’t used in examples of successful book marketing campaigns (because yeah, that could be us hiding again), but why is it not even an issue that we’re not there?
Like, why don’t we talk about how weird it is that women don’t show up in this context when so many of us are writing and blogging and biggifying-against-the-tides? I know this is not about any kind of intentional exclusion but still, why don’t we talk about it?
I totally don’t mean to pick on Jonathan — this sort of thing honestly exists all over the place, and his manifesto was the first example to come to mind. And I know I could ask him and I know he’d be cool. I’m positive he wouldn’t mind. But I haven’t yet.
Because I live in this world where we don’t talk about that stuff.
I could be a man, for all you know.
In fact, I pretty much have to be, if you look at my “quick rise to the top”. Don’t tell me you didn’t suspect anything.
Yeah, okay, if you’ve met me at one of my seminars or at a conference, you know that I do a fairly decent impression of a woman, but really, who’s to say? Online you can never know for sure who’s who.
But you know what? As far as I can tell, in terms of fame and fortune in the internet world, there’s not a whole lot to be gained by being a woman blogger (or pretending to be one), whereas being a man? Super useful.
Not for every single man, no. But I have seen men have an easier time of it, in a hundred different ways.
And even if that weren’t even slightly true, a lot of men would probably go ahead and biggify it up anyway. Because of that wonderful self-assured whatever-it-is that makes them think, “Sure I’ll try it — what could go wrong?”
Because they have sovereignty. Or think they do — which in some cases pretty much amounts to the very same thing.
Where am I going with this?
I don’t know. It’s too long and it’s too complicated and it’s too hard.
I guess what I want to say is this:
I am so glad Naomi brought this up. Her post is really good. You should read it. It’s extra-curse-ey and she’s hilarious and she also tells you why you should get our thing while it’s still cheap-as-hell.
And I agree that we treat ourselves like we’re stupid. Like we aren’t deserving of sovereignty.
Like being safe and provided for is something that we’re not even allowed to want.
We spend a lot more time hurting from thrown shoes and agonizing over those shoes and letting our reactions to thrown shoes dictate our decisions.
And if we — ALL OF US, not just the women among us — are going to start thinking big in a mindful way, we’re going to have to pay attention to these stucknesses when they show up. And we’re going to have to start learning how to ask for things.
Because that, for me at least, is where it all starts.
Comment zen for today …
Same as yesterday. We’re all working on our stuff. We’re doing the best we can. We try not to step on each other’s stuff. We’re practicing.
Why they aren’t buying your thing.
A while back I wrote about the “no one is interested in my thing” phenomenon.
You know, when we jump to the big crazy conclusion that the reason people aren’t calling or hiring us or buying our stuff is that we suck. A lot. Clearly.
And yeah, that’s us getting sidetracked by our stuff again. Which totally happens.
But what about when you’ve (mostly) gotten over yourself the “I suck” bit? When you really, truly know (or mostly know) your thing is good … but still, no one is actually taking you up on it?
Oof. It’s frustrating and horrible. And worse than that, it’s confusing — because you don’t know why they aren’t showing up.
Here’s why.
You haven’t yet given them enough of a reason to say yes.
It’s not that your Right People are screaming NO. It’s not that they’re running away.
It’s just that they haven’t been — at least not enough of them — saying yes.
Instead, there might be a bunch of people saying things like this:
- “Huh. This is seriously interesting. I’d really like to do it, but I don’t know if now is the right time.”
- “Mmmm, I like this idea, but I’ll have to see if I have the money and come back later. I just wish I could really be sure that coaching will help me solve this thing.”
- “Wow. That does look neat. Well, maybe the next time he offers it.”
They’re into you. It’s just that they’re still … waiting. For a reason to say yes.
You haven’t given them enough of a reason to say yes.
It’s so much easier to keep on not-deciding.
I mentioned Victoria’s excellent post about decision making a few weeks ago.
It’s about how to pare down the time spent on those interminable “should I stay or should I go” types of decisions by finding out what would shift the decision from an agonizing one into a no-brainer.
Well, guess what? You have to do the same thing with whatever it is you’re offering.
If you’re not making it ridiculously easy for the other person to say “I’m in!”, you’re leaving them adrift in the decision-making process.
Without actively working in that special something to make it a no-brainer, your Right People could easily remain stuck in indecision-mode.
And in my experience, a mind stuck in indecision will almost always default to the safe answer of “no”. Or it will just stagnate in not-saying-yes mode until it’s too late and the decision has been made through not being made.
This is kind of like the thing that people (biggifiers and software user-interface designers and smart markety people) say — “a confused mind says no“.
Yes, it’s annoying, but ohmygod is it ever true.
Making space for the yes.
So. What can turn your thing (your class, your program, your coaching, your product) into a no-brainer? Something people want to say yes to?
I have five ideas, but first I want to mention two things to watch out for:
First, you want to be wary of the temptation to use super-low price as the way to make it a no-brainer. Doesn’t help you or them. Pricing is sacred.
The other thing: this is where a lot of the biggifiers talk about creating urgency. And what you have to watch out for with that is whipped-up urgency often comes with a side dish of emotional manipulation.
Which, to my way of thinking, is really not cool.
But there are still ways to spark excitement without using your powers for evil or making people feel bad about themselves. Your urgency can be hot without being sleazy.
So, keeping those things in mind, here’s a quick run-through of five things that make it easier for your Right People to give you a yes.
Five ingredients of a yes:
1. Limits
Limits are sexy. But they can’t be too arbitrary, or they stop making sense. Which is … less sexy.
Limits require a rational reason.
Right? People will cock an eyebrow if you only make ten copies of an ebook available. It’s an ebook. It’s not like there are extra production costs for creating more than one.
But if you’re offering an hour of your time at a reduced rate when someone buys the ebook (as I used to do with the Procrastination Dissolve-o-matic), it totally makes sense that this is something that only ten people can do.
You can limit time. Or you can limit availability.
2. Proof
Testimonials, baby. You want pithy quotes from someone who looks and sounds like one of your Right People, talking about how your thing blew them away by being even more awesome than it sounded.
3. An exit strategy
Also known as a guarantee.
Having an assurance that if “it’s not my thing I don’t have to stay with it” lets me know that I can crawl out if necessary. Giving me an out make it feel safer to come in.
4. Address objections
Your Right People are smart. They may have all sorts of completely legitimate reasons for worrying that your thing isn’t going to help them.
This is where you get to meet them where they are and create safety. Oh, and spend some time answering their unasked questions.
5. And of course, not being a fakerooney
You kind of have to sound like a real human being — the real human being that you actually are.
Otherwise there’s going to be cognitive dissonance every time you say markety-blah-blah stuff that doesn’t really come from you. People pick up on that lack of authenticity, subconsciously hear it as “phony”, and then it stops being a no-brainer.
I know, I know, this is way harder than it sounds, because it can be a very subtle distinction to make, but keep it in mind.
Because not saying things like “But wait — there’s more!” is pretty much the most important thing when it comes to speaking to your Right People. Unless your Right People happen to consist of the audiences of early-80s infomercials.
IMPORTANT! Exceptions and caveats.
This is the weird thing about giving advice. It’s all totally, 100% absolutely solid — but I don’t always follow it myself.
So this is kind of one of those “do what I say, not what I do” deals.
Why? Because you aren’t always going to want to make it easy to say yes.
Here are a couple of examples from my own business:
Arbitrary limits.
Naomi and I taught a (completely brilliant) class last year about how to make the monies even — especially? — when people aren’t buying because things are recession-ey and horrible.
Compared to everything else we’ve ever done, it was insanely affordable,
And when we decided to finally bring the original sale price up to full price (soon?), we ended up deciding to limit time and availability: you’ll still be able to get it at the old sale price ($19) for two weeks. OR until one hundred people have gotten it, whichever comes first.
But wait, you say, what about that thing you wrote about random limits? Well, if a ton of people are already interested in your thing, setting a artificially low limit is rational. It’s weird, but it works.
We know it will sell out before the two weeks are up, so it’s a way of sorting out who is really excited about our stuff … and who’s on the fence. The fence-folks will miss out, and in this particular case, that’s okay with us.
In the meantime, we can set a time limit — even though there’s no way it will actually last that long.
Intentionally making it hard to decide.
When I lead a retreat, I don’t want to help people say yes. I actually want them to be 100% sure about what they want, without my help.
So with my upcoming Sacramento program? No testimonials. No guarantee.
In fact, I basically said that I’m going to keep half your money even if you don’t come. I gave more reasons for people not to come than to show up. And it still sold out.
I can be hard to get like this because I’ve invested gazillions of hours into developing my stuff, and because I am very, very clear about what kind of people I want there. The ones who are already completely sure that spending a day with me and Selma doing biggification magic is exactly what they need.
But if this was my first time doing something like this? Ohmygod would things be different.
I’d have raving testimonials up there. I’d be linking to all the posts about the hot, buttered epiphanies people got from my North Carolina workshop. I’d answer every possible subconscious objection, and I’d pack the sign-up page with things that — if I were the one reading it — would make me say yes yes yes I’m in!
Yes, I write copy for me. Because I’m a total cynic. So if I can write things that don’t make me roll my eyes, it’s probably good enough for my Right People. But that’s another post.
That’s it.
Hope it’s helpful.
And hugs all around for the hard. I know this whole topic is frustrating and super trigger-ey.
Also, gah. I’m sorry. There is so much experimenting to be done when you’re biggifying. We’re always trying stuff. And trying stuff and having it not work is exhausting and depressing.
So if there’s stuff in here that stresses you out, you have my permission to ignore it. Take the bits that work for you and leave the rest for some other time.
Comment zen for today …
We’re all working on our stuff. We’re doing the best we can. We try not to step on each other’s stuff. We’re practicing.
Very Personal Ads #13: What’s a sexier word for “productivity”?
Personal ads! They’re … personal! Very.
So my itty bitty personal ads made me realize that it’s time to make a regular practice of trying to feel okay asking for stuff.
Even when the asking thing feels weird and conflicted.
Ever since I posted the first one asking my perfect house to find me, which united me with Hoppy House, I have been a fan of the madness that is personal ads.
And now it’s my weekly ritual. Yay, ritual!
Let’s do this thing.
Thing 1: whatever the sexy word for “productivity” is.
Here’s what I want:
To get stuff done.
Here’s how I want this to work.
I want 75–90 minutes a day of full-speed-ahead look-out-world I-am-a-genius biggification planning time.
Where I make my decisions and then start putting things into motion.
To be honest, I’d settle for 30 minutes of this a day, but I’m working on expanding my internal rules about what’s possible. Hence the ask.
Ways this happen:
All this resting-up could set the spark in a really quiet, intuitive way.
I can do Shiva Nata to put me in the zone.
I can carve out a block of time in the late morning and do little ritual-ey things to create a strong, powerful container.
Clarity. I’m ready for some.
My commitment.
I will be hugely appreciative of this time and everything that comes from it.
I’ll give myself plenty of time for post-work shavasana (the not-doing that follows the doing).
This will not impede on my overall goal of restfulness — it will enhance it.
When it’s not working, I’ll practice patience if I can. And if I need to throw a temper tantrum or two, I’ll give myself permission to do that too.
Thing 2: Using my body
Here’s what I want:
Now that the jackhammers and construction work aren’t deafening my thoughts and slicing through my routines, I want to get back into my body and the comforting structure of a physical practice.
Here’s how I want this to work:
To ease back into it.
Half an hour of yoga in the morning. If I’m not feeling up to that, then one pose. Two poses. And some conscious, active resting.
To go for a walk each morning before breakfast.
To take the stairs.
To breathe.
My commitment.
To do all these things in a committed, loving way.
Not in a “you’d better get off your ass, unless you want to look like crap and feel worse — is that what you want?” kind of way.
To remind myself that when I take the time to hang out in my body, everything goes more smoothly and I feel better about everything else in my life.
To be patient.
Thing 3: Healthy boundaries
Here’s what I want:
A clear sense of my space and where it ends. I don’t think I can be more specific than that right now.
Ways this might work:
I don’t know. But I do know what some of the qualities would be that would be useful for this.
Clarity. Wisdom. Safety. Quiet. Faith.
I’m open to these qualities finding their way into my life in various forms. No idea how it could work, but I’m willing to be surprised.
My commitment.
To be watchful.
To appreciate these qualities when they’re around, and to notice that I’m needing them when they’re not.
Progress report on past Very Personal Ads.
Just to update you on what’s happened since last time.
I asked for rest and restfulness, for a way out of the fog, and for a solution to my Hoppy House problem.
The rest and restfulness thing has been working really well. Miraculously (or not), something about the decision to leave Berlin made everything there more bearable.
The construction continued, but it didn’t bother me as much. Everything felt more insulated and more calm.
Selma, my gentleman friend and I went for a lovely three-hour afternoon boat ride, as reported in the Chicken. And then there was hot-tubbing on the Baltic Sea. So yay.
I am slowly but surely finding my way out of the fog through this new state of restfulness, so that feels good too.
And the Hoppy House situation is not yet resolved, but I’ve stopped stressing out over it. I’m just going to have to make more money to make it work. And I think that once I’m rested and decidedly non-foggy, I can do that.
(Though there may be an Ask related to that in the next couple of weeks).
So yeah, feeling pretty surprised/happy with the way these particular asks are enfolding. I had worried about them being too vague to provide clarity, but yet again the process of giving myself permission to ask was helpful in and of itself.
Comments. Since I’m already asking …
I am adding to my practice of asking for stuff by being more specific about 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.
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 #60: “they’re indigenous, you know”
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.
Sixty Chickens. Ridiculous.
I mean, impressive.
And just so you know I’m on Extremely Necessary Vacation right now — not quite the same as Emergency Vacation, but similar. I’ll still be here, though.
Because come on. I wouldn’t miss a Friday Chicken.
The hard stuff
Being in motion.
The whole being-on-the-go thing makes running a business somewhat difficult.
Even when you have an efficient, well-trained pirate crew.
It’s just hard.
Goodbyes.
I don’t like them.
This is not new.
Exhaustion.
The three weeks of running around before Berlin, combined with the three weeks of chaos, confusion, jackhammers, fireworks and general madness in Berlin have officially taken their toll.
I’m not doing much of anything except sleeping.
Coming to terms with leaving Berlin.
For me, Berlin has always been a place for big, crazy creative growth.
It’s where I’ve always gotten my very best thinking and writing done.
But this time, it was a period of fog and confusion and horribleness.
Usually I leave with a heavy heart. This time I just couldn’t wait to get out.
Buying a bathing suit.
As soon as it became clear that the Extremely Necessary Vacation involved a place where one might need a swimsuit, I went into all sorts of dreaded internal places.
Especially since I just got one (a gorgeous one! from someone on Etsy!) in July.
And of course now I don’t have it with me. So I had to go shopping, which is — extreme understatement! — not my cup of tea.
And I had to try on bathing suits, which is pretty much my least favorite thing in the world. Gah. Traumatic.
The good stuff
The Herr Lehmann inspired bathing suit Expotition.
So my gentleman friend and I are, oddly enough, in complete agreement as to our two favorite German novels.
I refer, of course, to Faserland by the inimitable Christian Kracht, and Herr Lehmann by Sven Regner.
After that, our tastes diverge considerably. We both like Uwe Timm, but I prefer the sweet, thoughtful, funny Entdeckung der Currywurst while he goes for the dark, powerful, introspective Am Beispiel Meines Bruders and Rot.
And the split widens from there.
But we can always agree on our two favorites. So, as soon as I said “bathing suit”, he insisted that we follow Herr Lehmann’s awkward and uncomfortable footsteps by copying that character’s delightfully awful search for a bathing suit, as described in the book.
So we headed out towards the Karstadt on Hermann Platz. We didn’t actually make it there because our Expotition took a turn for the weird, but we tried.
It was like when people read the words of famous poets where they were originally written. Only somewhat less romantic.
Anyway, I got a bathing suit. And I didn’t cry.
And It was worth it.
Because sitting in a hot tub at night while looking out at the Baltic Sea was exactly the right get-well tonic for my ragged nervous system.
Recovery mode is the place to be right now.
Goodbye, Berlin.
I taught my last few classes.
Spent time with friends.
My gentleman friend and I spotted two herons when we went for a walk by the Lietzensee. We even saw one of them having a (slippery, squirmy) breakfast.
Also a swan and some ducks. And a bird that looked like the offspring of a pigeon and a duck.
Like a puck. Or a digeon.*
*See the title of this week’s Chicken for the stupidest, yet also the funniest pun of the week.
Anyway, there were some nice moments.
Something I’ve never done before.
The cool thing about having taught in one place (Berlin) once a year for five years is that I have some pretty advanced students by now.
I turned my last class into an Advanced Shiva Nata Practice class and taught Level 4 and Level 5.
Not only have I never taught Level 5 before, I don’t know that Level 5 has ever been taught before.
The way I learned it was through Andrey giving me the formula — and then just memorizing the sequences. But taught? In a class?
It was really, really cool.
Something else I’ve never done before.
And then I also did the thing I’ve been steadfastly refusing to do in all my years of teaching in Berlin, which is to go on a Stadtrundfahrt, one of the tour-the-city-by-boat things.
It had just always struck me as kind of tacky and embarrassing.
Well. It turns out that you get a completely new and gorgeous perspective of the city that way. And seeing all my favorite bridges from underneath was awesome.
And drinking beer in the sun while gliding down a canal is actually a perfectly lovely thing to do — even for a pirate queen. I love being wrong when it’s that kind of wrong.
And … one more thing I’ve never done before.
I’m in Norway right now. I know!
And … playing live at the meme beach house!
Yes, that’s a Stuism too.
Though there aren’t any Stuisms this week because Stu is still living in my suitcase. And not happy about it, I might add.
Actually, that’s not correct. I am mostly aware of the fact that Stu is a piece of software and, as such, lives in my computer and not in a suitcase. But I have taken on the appalling habit of confusing him with the headset that makes his existence possible.
Anyway, he’s not around. But back to the fake band of the week.
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, I’m torn between Avoid The Conditional and Wiederverschliessbar Again.
But either way, pretty sure it’s just one guy.
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.
Questions. Part 1.
So I’m a big fan of that weird form of brain exercise known as “free-writing” (uh, worst name ever?) where you ask questions and then just write down whatever pops into your head.
It almost always turns out that there are these neat little surprises tucked away somewhere in your subconscious.
And these come whooshing out when you combine asking a direct question with putting pen to paper with no rules other than just keeping the pen moving.
But you know what is even more insanely great than this kind of open-ended intuitive journaling stuff?
Doing it right after Shiva Nata.
The part where I apologize, but only very briefly.
So I figure you might be bored to death what with me going on and on about the magical, crazy, sometimes-torturous Dance of Shiva.
I can get oh, kind of obsessive about it.
So let me back up a little:
You don’t have to do it. I’ll still like you if you never, ever become a Shivanaut. Promise.
And you can absolutely use the questions I give here for a round of good old-fashioned journaling, and I’m pretty sure that neat things will happen anyway.
All I’m saying is that if you take these questions …
… and then you do a practice that basically sends you into a mush-like state of chaos and confusion, taking apart your brain and rebuilding it …
Well, it’s the bomb.
One last little bit of explain-ey-ness.
The questions here are ones I asked in one of the Berlin workshops last week.
The answers are the ones that I wrote down during this state of deliciously confused brain scramble.
If the questions seem to be … oddly phrased? That’s because I was asking them in German.
“What does my issue, my problem, my pattern look like?”
Complex.
But the individual parts are just … lines and circles. Lines and circles.
It only looks all knotted, because I don’t understand how it’s all connected yet.
It’s like a language I don’t speak yet.
So it’s gibberish, except that it’s really not.
If I pull out or zoom in I can see its beauty. Whoah. Yes. Yes! There is beauty in this pattern. Which is bizarre.
Even at the same time as I’m trying to take it apart … there is just something so organic about its shapes.
“What does my pattern need from me?”
Patience.
Some new pieces.
To love myself even when I haven’t figured out all my stuff yet.
Space. Space to be taken apart in!
It’s like I’m trying to undo this huge, complicated knot in a tiny, dark closet. It doesn’t make sense.
If we were out in a field or on the ocean or in space, it would be so much easier.
Interesting. That isn’t what I expected. It’s like my pattern wants me to be able to take it apart. It’s asking me to replace some of its parts.
I wouldn’t have thought that it even had an agenda, but that if it did, it would be the agenda of self-preservation. That’s not what is happening here though. It wants to be changed.
“What do I need right now?”
Room, space, time — all for experimenting.
And permission.
I need permission to take these things and have them and want them. Lots and lots of permission.
That’s where I’m stuck right now, with the giving it to myself part.
“What if I had permission, in my actual life just as in Shiva Nata, to do everything wrong …?”
I would have to let my fear go.
I’d have to have a goodbye party for my fear. No, a tea party.
A fear tea party.
With lots of tiny little cups. There would be grape juice and cookies. And we would be sad together and then I would leave and go straight to where I need to go, without hesitation.
“What’s missing?”
That permission, again. The strength, the knowing that this is really the right thing to do.
No, that’s not what it is. What is missing?
Courage? No. A starting point? No. Wait. Crap.
Nothing.
Nothing is missing.
There is nothing that can stop me. So it’s nothing. It’s nothing. I could just do it now if I wanted to. What?!?!
NOTHING.
That kind of scares me, but it also kind of makes me want to run out of my imaginary prison screaming freeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeedom! Nice.
That’s it. Do you want to play too?
You don’t have to do Shiva Nata first.
Though if you feel like it, five minutes of practice is a great way to warm up your internal processing functions so you can throw these questions at them and get Useful Stuff.
But honestly? I have a feeling that if you just sit down and write out an answer to any one of these things, something … interesting will show up.
You’re more than welcome to share it here. Or you can totally not share it here.
Or you can share something else. We’re not picky.