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.
Roses everywhere.
So usually when I talk to monsters or have long conversations with walls (or otherwise engage with my stucknesses in semi-wacky ways), there’s a lot of talking involved.
Words.
Because, you know, I’m that way. Verbal.
Not always necessarily all that articulate (see last sentence), but definitely word oriented as opposed to picture oriented.
You can imagine my surprise when non-visual me had a completely visual experience. An interesting and (potentially) useful one that I want to share with you.
Except that I’m used to reporting internal dialogue. Not drawing a picture with words.
So this is going to be experimental and possibly weird. Just so you know.
The rose.
The first thing I see is a rose.
It’s half open, half closed.
What do I know about this rose?
It wants open. It wants now. Because this rose is hot stuff.
Make no mistake. This rose is going to the top. This rose is Liza Minnelli in Cabaret. Unstoppable. Irrepressible.
But it can’t open more than halfway. Its energy might be unstoppable, but what do you know, something is stopping it.
What stops something from living out the thing it needs most?
I have to zoom out a bit to see what is blocking the rose from opening more fully and completely.
And it’s kind of a complicated rigged up contraption of wires and little poky bits.
Metal and sharp and rigid.
It’s not touching the rose, but if the rose tries to grow or expand, the little metal spikes contract inwards to block it.
The goal of a rose.
The goal (or maybe even the purpose) of the rose is to be glorious.
To celebrate being alive by being audaciously beautiful. By shouting from the rooftops.
“Would you look at this! I am a rose! Is that not the most fabulous thing in the entire world? Yes it is!”
That’s what the rose would say if this were not a surprisingly wordless visualization.
The goal of a barrier.
The goal (or the purpose) of the thing blocking the rose is to keep the rose from being glorious.
To prevent it from opening too wide or growing too big. To keep it where it is.
Cross-purposes
So there’s this conflict between the rose and the barrier. And negotiating internal conflict is kind of the thing I’m good at.
I go to ask the barrier what it needs.
But there are no words. Because I’m trapped in a visualization, which is the weirdest thing that ever happened to me. Well, not ever, but (ahem) at least in the last week or so.
My wordless question is wordlessly answered.
The barrier needs to protect the rose. The barrier knows that if the rose opens into its most glorious here-I-am state of fabulousness as it so desperately wants to do, things will go wrong.
Not really wrong, but it’s not good. It will just make the other flowers jealous. Also, people might come and try to pick the rose or take it away.
The barrier is the knight in shining armor. The Protector of the Rose. It’s on a mission.
And it doesn’t really care that its mission stifles the mission of the rose, because hey, it’s serving the rose in a deeper way.
Problem-solving.
We need a solution, I think to myself.
We need a way for the barrier to feel safe that it’s doing its job, while still allowing the rose to feel safe to do its glorious Liza Minnelli thing.
It’s all about safety. It’s about giving space and still having barriers. It’s about healthy boundaries.
And I’m wondering what to do, because I still don’t know how to navigate this wordless world. I don’t know how to insert myself into the picture.
But then, magically, the rose and the barrier find their own compromise.
That was unexpected.
The barrier, which had been tensing and flexing around the outside rim of the rose’s petals, began to climb down an invisible rope ladder.
It started folding in on itself until it came to rest in a circle where the stem of the rose entered the earth.
So there was still a barrier, just not to the growth of the rose.
The barrier had a new purpose, but really, it was the same purpose.
Instead of protecting the rose from growing into its glory, it was now there to protect the rose from being picked.
The rose, meanwhile, was expanding and stretching. Yawning after a deep sleep. Strutting its stuff. Taking over. Doing its sexy rose thing. Fulfilling its purpose.
And then I was done.
Stupid symbolism.
Once I could talk again, the first thing I said was this:
“The rose isn’t me, right? Because that would be so cheesy and ridiculous that I couldn’t stand it. Okay, fine. It’s me. But so is the barrier.”
Uh huh.
And so is the one who observes the rose and the barrier interacting.
And so is the one who loves them both.
And so is the one who resents them both and struggles with them.
And so is the one who thinks this is cheesy and ridiculous.
That’s just how it is.
Roses everywhere.
And then I saw that there were roses everywhere.
Inside of me. Around me. In the people I know. In the people I don’t know.
All of us going through similar internal struggles and wordless conversations. All expanding and stretching.
Everyone.
It was pretty cool, is all I’m saying.
Friday Check-in #45: Duckwarmer 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.
So … back from Emergency Vacation.
In a bit of a daze, still. But happy to be here.
And especially happy that it’s Friday.
The hard stuff
Recovery.
It took me (is taking me?) way longer to readjust that I’d bargained for. Ow.
Just feeling a bit shaky, I guess.
Back to work.
Piles of work. Piles.
And I’m so not in the mood.
Yesterday? I got up as usual at 5:30 a.m. Did my meditation. Did my wacky morning rituals.
Started working. For about oh, five minutes. And then straight back to bed.
Which was lovely, don’t get me wrong. But it’s so clear to me that I’m not in flow right now, and giving myself permission to not be there is taking some time.
CrankyPants McGrumbleBug strikes again.
Hmmph. Grrrrr.
Grumble.
Repeat as necessary.
Luckily though, in addition to all things grumbleworthy, there was definitely some good stuff too. Ooh. Yes. Good stuff. And some stuff that might turn out to be good stuff.
The hard that might be good
Roller Derby semifinals!
My beloved Guns ‘n’ Rollers are facing the Breakneck Betties again, this time in the semis. It didn’t end so well last time around … and I’m kind of terrified. But hopeful. But terrified.
Send our girls some love!
The good stuff
Energized.
Unbelievable. This vacation stuff works.
I’ve seen it happen to so many other people so many times but … I don’t know, I never experienced it myself so I didn’t realize how cool it is.
So, for example, my first day back at work I zapped through nineteen things on my Action Items List in two hours.
Nineteen things!
I’m used to getting through maybe two to three things in that amount of time. It was crazy. Crazy good.
Speed. Demon.
So I’m loving that. Loving how much easier it is to make decisions. How much easier it is to just not take on new stuff.
I know what I want.
Clarity. Serious freaking clarity.
Obviously the point of going on Emergency Vacation was to not have a nervous breakdown.
Well, actually it was to have it somewhere pretty. But in addition to healing all the things that were breaking, it really, truly cleared my head.
Remember when I couldn’t come up with any goals?
Okay, so now that’s not a problem anymore.
I know exactly what I want.
Now it’s just a question of figuring out the details.
Summer!
When we left Portland, there were these tiny little rosebuds everywhere.
When we came back, the entire city was in bloom. Roses. Insanely sexy roses. All over the place.
It’s the most spectacular thing in the entire world. And all of a sudden you go ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh, right. So that’s why Portland is obsessed with roses.
I mean, yeah. I know they call it Rose City and everything but I never really got it.
Like the first time I visited Chicago in November and went, ah, that’s why it’s called the Windy City. Right.
Anyway, we missed it last summer because we were in Berlin. And it is nothing short of extraordinary.
Speaking of summer and being back home …
Our garden was completely transformed too.
Not only do we have roses like crazy, but all the sprout-ey things turned into foods.
We have beans and chard and beets and jerusalem artichokes and all things wonderful.
And — weirdly — since we didn’t know we had them, strawberries. Which are delicious, by the way. Thanks for asking.
Selma has a scarf!
A really beautiful one.
And since it’s not often you see a duck in a gorgeous hand-knitted scarf, I’m including a picture.
Thanks to wonderful Etsy-ite Warm Och Fuzzy (@sdsures on Twitter) who made it and sent it all the way from Scotland.
Is this not the sweetest thing ever?
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.
Ask Havi #23: Hiring? Help?
Note: it is almost impossible to get on the Ask Havi list. This person got in by a. being one of my clients or students, b. flattering the hell out of my duck, and c. making life easy on me by being clear about what the question was and what details I could use.
“I need to become better at hiring people.
What do you do before hiring someone? Do you have a process? Do you go with your gut? What do you look out for? How do you make sure that this person will be a good fit working with you?”
Oh honey. Yes. This is probably the hardest part of being in business and biggifying what you do. Seriously.
Let’s see …
Process?
Hahahahahaha. Not really.
I write a personal ad. I think about the qualities and values that are important to me. I put a wish out there.
And then I ask everyone I know for recommendations. That’s how I’ve found most of the VAs (virtual assistants) on my pirate crew.
Go with gut?
Yes.
I really have to get a hit that I can trust this person.
Of course, I’ve worked with plenty of people who were absolutely trustworthy and it still wasn’t a good match … sigh.
What do you look for?
Responsiveness.
A sense of humor.
Someone who is at least as weird as I am.
My wonderful friend Kelly Parkinson says that you really have to “match your values”, and I think she’s right.
So what I value is kookiness, personality, passion and hard work. Maybe for you it’s something else. If you look at what isn’t working, that might give you a better idea about what could work.
How do you make sure that this person will be a good fit working with you?
Okay, this is not exactly where I excel, but I will share the absolute all-time best information I’ve ever received on this.
Story time! Plus the best advice I can give you (that’s not even mine).
Remember when I flew to Vancouver for Michael Port’s Beyond Booked Solid seminar?
(flashback to September 2008, weird scooby doo effects)
This is me in a state of complete and utter desperation because my business was turning into the world’s biggest headache.
On top of that, I couldn’t get the VA thing to work. And I was starting to think that I would never find someone who would be able to really help me in my business.
Also, I was terrified that I was turning into Aryeh, the worst boss I ever had. Seriously. Worse than the fall-down drunks who ran the bars I used to work at.
The worst boss and the person I am afraid of becoming.
Always upset with you. Always screaming at you in front of the entire company.
Oh, and he expected you to be able to do three people’s jobs cheerfully, efficiently and flawlessly. Also, without any explanation whatsoever about what those jobs entailed or how to do them.
Perspective? This guy had gone through fourteen executive assistants in the course of one year. Half had gotten canned and the other half had (understandably) run away.
I worked for him for three months, making me by far the one with the most seniority. I know.
And somehow, he managed to think that it was always “them”. Never him. He wasn’t the asshat. They were incompetent.
Now all of a sudden I was the CEO* and — even worse — I had turned into the one complaining about how it’s “impossible to find good help”.
Disaster. And embarrassing. So by the time I got to Michael’s seminar, I was really at a loss.
Luckily he was full of wisdom and smartnesses, which I will pass along to you.
*CEO = Chief Eccentricity Officer
Healthy relationships take time.
Michael reminded me that any good relationship is something that is built over time.
He reminded me that I’m not a horrible person if some of them don’t work out.
Just like with falling in love. You don’t fall in love with everyone you have a coffee with.
Same goes for finding a good therapist or the right yoga teacher. Most combinations aren’t going to work.
Anyway, I was incredibly relieved to learn that Michael had also gone through a very long period of trial and error, emphasis on error.
It gave me permission to keep trying.
Training is everything.
Michael also taught me that it’s my responsibility to train people very specifically in terms of what I want them to do and how I want them to do it.
So I had always looked for a VA who knows my shopping cart system, and then would get annoyed when she’d make ridiculous mistakes.
She said she knew the system, but then she’d get things wrong.
To me it seemed irresponsible and incompetent. But Michael helped me realize that not everyone uses the same systems in the same ways, and that it’s my job to be very clear on how I want things done and why I want them done that way.
His analogy: even Michael Phelps is screwed if he’s out alone in the middle of the ocean.
Skill sets alone are meaningless without instruction, guidance, boundaries. That was useful for me.
Also, I hired the brilliant Cairene to help me clarify and organize my systems, which has helped me enormously. Understatement. I would be lost without her.
Look for someone you like.
The other huge piece of advice I got from Michael –and this was my lightbulb thing— was this:
I should stop looking for a VA … and start looking for someone I really like who gets my business. Someone who really, really gets it.
To look for qualities over skills, personality over ability and willingness to learn and get dirty over experience.
Find the person you like and then train them to do what you want them to do.
And very, very, very soon after that, I found my dear First Mate Marissa.
I never would have approached her before because she wasn’t branded as the thing I was looking for.
But in the meantime I was filling out long and complicated forms for these fancy VA sites and they weren’t even getting back to me.
If you love them and they get it, you can figure out the rest.
All along I’d been hiring these super-fancy, super-expensive, assistant-to-the-stars, works-with-all-the-biggifiers sort of VAs, and it wasn’t working.
Yes, they were competent, but they didn’t get me or what I was trying to do.
Realizing that I need someone in my business who really and truly gets the feeling and the essence of what we do and who my Right People are … that was what changed everything for me.
And hooray for that.
Because without Marissa, I wouldn’t have been able to go on email sabbatical or to take an emergency vacation or to run my business with repetitive stress stuff that doesn’t allow me to type.
Recommendations?
Well, definitely write a personal ad.
That’s always a good thing.
- If you have a holistic good-for-the-world business, I recommend that you talk to Joy Slaughter (she’s @JoysLaughter on Twitter).
-
If you need someone who is super social-media savvy (and also a total sweetheart), I recommend that you talk to Michelle Wolverton (she’s @ChelPixie on Twitter).
- And of course I highly recommend Marissa (she’s @MarissaBracke) but just make sure to leave about 60 hours a month for me because I can’t live without her.

Hope that helps!
I’m sure there’s more, though. So … thoughts? Suggestions? Things I forgot to add?
You, me, and my duck, baby.
It’s a secret rendezvous.
Well, maybe it’s more of a ménage à duck discreet tryst.
Okay, fine. Not really. It’s a workshop. A life-changingly great one, if I do say so myself.
In Paris person.
In Paris North Carolina. On an insanely gorgeous lake. Surrounded by all things beautiful. Including — but not limited to — me and my duck.
Here’s the thing.
I was supposed to announce this weekend of fabulousness and hot buttered epiphanies forever ago. But I got distracted with all sorts of other things.
In the meantime, while I was busy not telling people about it and forgetting to get my plane tickets, the workshop kind of went and filled itself up without letting me know.
People are flying in from California and Arizona and Minnesota. And a bunch of other places that I don’t remember offhand.
So.
As it happens, there are now three spots left. One of which comes with on-site lodging.
I don’t at all want to scare you but there’s kind of a crazy deadline.
Technically, the “early bird” sign-up period with its absurdly lower prices that I still don’t know how I agreed to is good through the end of June.
But I will be astonished if there is anything left after tomorrow morning at the latest.
So if there’s even a slight chance that you might want to spend August 21–23 zapping through your stucknesses with me and Selma, you probably want to get on that. Or at least take a look.
(Obviously if you’re in panicked crap crap crap I have to do this but won’t have the money until next week mode, write to Marissa and beg. She might agree to save you a spot with an extension on the payment because she’s way nicer than I am.)
Come play.
I’m only doing a few live events this year. And most of them are in Berlin.
So yeah. Would be fantastic to get to hang out with you in North Carolina this summer.
And either way, Selma and I will see you here tomorrow.

» Just in case it’s not completely obvious, here’s where you learn all about it and sign up if you’re the one.
EDIT: The one “with lodging” opportunity is now taken. If you sign up for one of the last spots, we’ll help you get settled with the camping option or we can point you to some affordable places to stay in the area.
Someone just threw a shoe at you.
So you’re walking down the street and someone throws a shoe at you.
Except that you weren’t walking down the street and they didn’t really throw a shoe at you. Also — as it turns out — there is no shoe.
But never mind that.
What really happened is that someone made a particularly condescending remark about something you did or said or wore or thought or admired.
Maybe not though. Maybe they just gave you a total asshat response to something you posted on a forum (yes, that happened to me last week).
Or maybe they did something.
And that something makes no sense because how could they not know that this something would be completely disastrous for you. Ugh.
Whatever it was, you’re feeling hurt.
And upset. And angry. And scared. And indignant. And annoyed.
Completely understandably.
Okay. So. You know what? We’re going to pretend that it was a shoe.
This unknown someone threw a shoe at you. It hit you in the back. Not hard enough to knock you over or do any damage or anything.
But it hurt. A lot. And it surprised you. It was startling and painful and unpleasant.
Where am I going with this?
There are always going to be some people who are going to throw shoes. I wish that weren’t the case, but that’s just the way it is.
And given that this is true, it’s useful to know about the Five Primary Reactions To Shoe Throwing.*
*Thanks to my teacher Orna Sela in Tel Aviv for the shoe-throwing metaphor.

The Five Primary Reactions To Shoe Throwing.
The “It’s all about me” Reaction.
- Man. Not again. People are always throwing shoes at me.
- I don’t know what it’s all about but if a shoe is going to be thrown, damned if it isn’t going to hit me right in the back.
- It’s not fair. Everyone hates me. Everyone is against me. I have all the bad luck. Everything bad happens to me.
- I probably deserve it, though. I must have done something to provoke all this shoe-throwing.
- And now this shoe-throwing has ruined my day and made everything even worse than it already was.
This is most of my clients when they come to me. It’s most of my blog readers. It’s a lot of people. Common reaction.
The “It’s all about them” Reaction.
- What the hell kind of person would throw a shoe at someone?
- What the [insert especially impressive stream of cussing here] causes someone to pick up a shoe and throw it?! What’s wrong with them? What’s wrong with everyone?
- Why do people have to be so mean and stupid and hurtful?
Same thing. A lot of my clients, students and blog readers. Me a lot of the time. And most of the people I know. Again, very common.
The Consciously-working-on-my-stuff Reaction.
- Wow. Someone just threw a shoe at me and I’m feeling hurt and angry and upset.
- This is me feeling hurt. I’m allowed to feel hurt. This is my stuff showing up in response to having a shoe thrown at me.
- My anger and hurt and frustration? My stuff.
- The shoe-throwing itself? Their stuff.
- I am reminding myself that this shoe and the throwing of it are not about me and actually have nothing to do with me.
- The throwing of the shoe is all about the shoe-thrower. It’s about their personal stuckification, which — oh, look! — just set off mine too.
- Okay, so that’s my stuff interacting with their stuff. And then if we put my stuff and their stuff aside, there’s still the part about how it’s not okay to throw shoes at people. So let’s deal with that.
- I can say to this person, “Hey, it’s not cool to throw shoes. It hurts when you throw a shoe at me.”
- Because yeah, even though I can’t do anything about their stuff, I can still stand up for myself.
- And I can keep working on my stuff.
This is where I try to be most of the time. This is where many of my Kitchen Table program people are at now after several months of working on their stuff with me. Totally worth working towards.
This kind of approach changes your life and it changes the life of the people around you. Plus it’s very Fluent-Self-ified.
The Advanced Consciously-working-on-my-stuff Reaction.
The Advanced reaction? Same as the above with just one difference.
- This time you’re not upset and you’re not angry.
- You’re still interacting with yourself in a conscious, loving way. You still recognize that the shoe-throwing is all about them. You’re still empowered to tell people that they can’t throw shoes at you.
- But it doesn’t even occur to you to take it personally. Because it’s so obviously not.
This one is my goal. This is where I want to be. And maybe one day it will happen.
It’s not where I am yet, but that’s okay.
The Impossibly-enlightened Reaction.
- There is no shoe.
I’m not even slightly there.
In fact, I’m not even sure I’d ever want to be there. It might even be a purely theoretical option.
But if we’re just following the movement of possible reactions and taking this movement to its logical extension, I’m pretty sure this is where someone could (again, theoretically) end up.

The point.
It’s not that I’m especially invested in moving people along from one reaction to the other.
And I’m also not interested in chastising people for being where they are. That doesn’t seem like it would be especially helpful.
Here’s the part that excites me:
I like watching how our relationships with ourselves change when we start paying attention to the fact that there are different types of reactions available to us.
I like being able to notice that hey, I’m slipping into a certain reaction as a default. And then I remember that the very act of noticing this is altering my relationship with myself and the people around me.
Because when I’m noticing, I’m not in it. And when I’m not in it, I’m more likely to be patient with myself.
And when I’m patient with myself, things don’t hurt.