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.
Why people don’t give you testimonials.
One of the things my clients want help with the most is getting really great testimonials for the cool stuff they do. Or, really, at this point, getting any testimonials.
And they’re absolutely right to want help with it because yes, this is one of those “make or break it” things in business.
A couple of good, well-placed testimonials will totally [oh, I don’t know, insert exciting verb!] up the number of people who enthusiastically throw money at you, hire you, buy your stuff, tell other people about you, etc.
The two reasons you’re not getting testimonials.
1. Reason number one: you feel weird about asking.
Just to be clear: I’m so not criticizing you for not asking, if that’s what’s going on for you.
Of course you’re not asking. It’s completely legitimate to feel uncomfortable, weird and possibly extremely icky about asking people for testimonials.
It’s hard to get around that creepy feeling that you’re just begging people to say something nice about you. And that’s kind of awkward, yes.
So I’m definitely not going to tell you “just get over yourself” or “just start asking people already”, because that would just be stupid.
And guess what? The fact that you’re not asking is actually a good thing, because when you do ask, you often bump straight into Reason number two.
Reason number two: you asked and now you’re screwed.
People hate being asked for testimonials. Most people.*
*There’s pretty much only one exception to that rule and that’s the person who writes to someone like me saying “I wrote a testimonial for your thing that I don’t even own and you should put it on your website and then link to me!” This does happen. But not too often.
Here’s a little clip of what’s happening inside the average person’s head when you ask them for a testimonial:
Panic (stage one):
“Oh no. Crap. What do I say? I never know what to say. I mean, yeah, I love his stuff but what do I saaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay?”
Avoidance (stage 2):
“Okay. Breathe. Breathe. I’ll deal with this later. I’ll think it over and maybe — eventually — I’ll come up with something that won’t make me sound like a total freaking idiot.”
Resentment and projection (stage 3):
“No, you know what? No matter what I come up with, I’ll sound stupid and it will take me forever and I don’t have time for this right now. Argh. Why won’t people leave me alone?”
Embarrassment and annoyance (stage 4):
“Is this still in my inbox? I can’t believe I haven’t done this yet. I hate this. I hate it. And now he probably thinks I’m the world’s biggest ass. And every time I go into my inbox I feel like dirt. I suck. And he’s the reason I’m feeling like this. It’s not fair.”
Awesome. Now they despise themselves and the situation they’re in AND they (unconsciously, yes?) resent you too. Even though they love you and your work.
True story. This is incredible.
A friend of mine owns a yoga studio. Beautiful place.
She bought some all-natural good-for-the-world candles to light during class. And she loved them. They were local and hand-made and they smelled good and the whole thing was in perfect alignment with her green studio philosophy.
She was planning on ordering another enormous batch of them. And then the guy who makes the candles asked her for a testimonial.
My friend is not in any way inarticulate. She’s a really good writer. An amazing teacher.
But she just kind of froze. She could not for the life of her come up with a single thing to say about the candles. Everything that came to mind seemed insipid and bland.
So she didn’t write back. And some time went by. So much time that she felt awkward even answering it at all. Okay, over a year. And it’s sitting in her inbox this whole time.
Meanwhile, she’s out of candles for the studio. Out of the candles that she loves — plus she’s too embarrassed to order more, because she’s afraid he’s going to ask her about the testimonial.
Meanwhile, he’s probably thinking that she didn’t even really like them in the first place. Disaster.
Here’s what happens when you ask for testimonials.
Admittedly, the story with my friend is a slightly extreme case. But not as extreme as you’d might think.
Typically, when you just ask for a testimonial there are two possible results.
- Result #1: You don’t get one and the person you asked feels awkward and uncomfortable and now you’ve also lost future business and referrals. Great.
- Result #2: You get a testimonial, but it sucks because they (understandably) put on their “I’m an authority” hat to write it so it’s blandified.**
**And it sounds like it was written by a robot: “As a trained coach of blabbity-blah, I find that So-And-So’s services are inspiring, insightful and individual. They will lead you to success. Call her today!”
Why I’ve stopped helping clients with this.
So yeah, I’ve taught a lot of people how to get really, really good testimonials without feeling gross about it or having the person they’ve asked start to resent them.
And I have a LOT to say about this topic, not to mention some seriously genius techniques. Much more than I could fit into a few blog posts.
At this point, though, you can’t hire me to help you with this, because I’ve stopped letting people hire me for anything that doesn’t use my superpower.
My superpower is zapping stucknesses. I’m really good at it. Really really good. Ridiculously good. So good that using me for other stuff is a waste of my time. And, of course, your time too.
So instead, apparently I’m going to have to teach a course on it. (And if this isn’t your thing, stop right here and come back tomorrow for regular Fluent Self-ified curriculum).
A course on how to get really really great testimonials and referrals.
Okay. You twisted my arm. And it’s called… uh …
Stuff Havi thinks you should know about how to get really really great testimonials and referrals.
Yeah, I didn’t have time to come up with a title so Selma wrote it.
Anyway, here’s some of what my clients now know that I’ll be covering in the course:
- EXACTLY what to say to people so that when you ask you don’t have to feel gross about it and they won’t resent you for asking.
- Why I never give testimonials, but the one thing you could do to get a really good one from me anyway.
- How to get referrals even when you can’t talk about what you do.
- How to get referrals in a seamless, natural way where other people won’t feel weird about giving them.
- How to ask for testimonials and/or referrals without making it seem like you’re asking.
- Every step you need to cover in order to get the kind of testimonials that make people want to drop everything they’re doing and happily throw money at you.
- How to approach famous people. I was astonished by how much my own sales went up once I got testimonials from people like Pam Slim and Naomi Dunford. I’ll tell you what to do.
All the details. The bonus. The price. The discount. Yes. That.
The details:
Two 90 minute teleclasses. And one 90 minute Q&A session where I’ll answer whatever you throw at me.
The bonus: Course tuition includes the digital version of the homestudy.
Which means that whether or not you come to any of the actual classes you’ll be able to listen to the recordings and read the notes.
You can also send your questions by email and I’ll answer them during the Q&A call.
The price (without the discount for blog readers)
The price of the class is $154.*
*Just, you know, a little perspective: my hourly rate is $485. You’re getting 4.5 hours for a fraction of one hour.
This is low.**
** So low you should write me letters complaining about it but then your chances of me letting you in the course are also low.
And the discount for blog readers. That might be you?
BUT I’m doing a way lower (like, a hundred dollars lower) price for those of you who hang out here and read my stuff all the time. because I like you.
The CATCH. Here it is.
» If you want the lower price, you have to be able to:
A. correctly answer the question “who is Selma?” or “who is Stu?” and
B. put that answer into the comments box in the shopping cart. The comments box is the box where it asks if you want to make a comment. I know, right?
Price for Havi fans |
Regular price |
 |
 |
*** REGISTRATION IS NOW CLOSED. ***
This course will be available later in homestudy form – you can look for it in the Fluent Self store.
First class is Sunday, May 3rd at 1:00 p.m. Pacific (again, you don’t have to be at the actual class — you get the recordings and notes!). Registration will END before the course begins. Probably significantly before. If you’re thinking it over, sign up.
Good.
Now I don’t have to feel bad about refusing to help my clients with this anymore. 🙂
p.s. Don’t buy this if you are a current member of my Kitchen Table program!
p.p.s. First person to point out that there are no testimonials for this course gets mocked mercilessly. Oh, how I amuse myself.
My “Things to be insanely grateful for much, much later” list
Yesterday I talked about how annoying deliciously ironic it is that the thing that sucks most can so often end up morphing into the best thing that ever happened (even though at the time it was awful and we still wouldn’t do it again).
And I said I had a list of “Things I’m Going To Be Insanely Grateful For Later On” for my agonizing months of not being able to use my arms.
Here it is. Eight of them.
Some of these have to do with my business. Some are — very — personal. Some are long. Some are short. And each one makes me shake my head in a mix of aggravation and bewilderment, awe and wonder.
Thing 1: I’m over my fear of having a staff.
Over the past year or so, I’ve watched biggified friends (like Mark Silver) and other colleagues start hiring part-time or full-time assistants to work with them in their actual office.
Gah. Terrifying.
Okay, I have an excellent virtual assistant who works in Texas. And I have the lovely Marissa, my personal assistant and shining star, who is in Indiana. And I have a guy in Germany who sets up my workshops in Europe. And a part-time programs coordinator.
But it’s all extremely …. you know, online.
The thought of having someone in my home has always seemed like a total nightmare. For one thing, my desk is a chaise lounge and I have a trampoline in the middle of my office.
For another, one of the perks of working from home is the pajamas.
In the meantime, I’ve been getting time-management help and um, “productivity” coaching from the amazing Cairene McDonald. Who, by the way, will kill me for just having used the word “productivity” because she despises that word. With a passion.
In fact, her hatred of that word is so awesome that it’s one of the biggest reasons that I hired her. She gets me. She really, really gets me. But I’m using the “p”-word just so you’ll know what I’m talking about.
Anyway, Cairene had been hinting that this would probably be the next step in my business and I had been pushing back.
Not anymore, though. Now that I can’t type, scroll or click things, I need someone to do my work for me while I’m sitting next to them telling them what to do.
And it’s life-changingly great. Never going back.
Thing 2: A new non-yucky relationship with massage (and with bodywork in general)
I’ve never liked massage. Had some really uncomfortable experiences with it, and I don’t mean the kind of uncomfortable where they work your muscles harder than you’d like.
And, like many people with some kind of abuse history, I don’t exactly enjoy being alone, passive, and unclothed with someone who has even the tiniest hint of authority. I dread checkups. I have issues with doctors. I cry a lot.
So massage therapy has always been one of the healing arts that I appreciate theoretically, but in reality don’t actually want to have anything to do with.
But massage (for me a combination of myofascial release and reiki and wacky-stuff-with-stones as well as some old-fashioned pummeling) has been hugely helpful for my arms.
And I’ve gone from thinking of it as something I “have to” do … to something that I genuinely look forward to. I’m planning on continuing with my weekly 90 minute massage ritual long after my arms have healed.
Thing 3: My business is all grown up. And now I recognize that.
I hadn’t realized to what extent I’d been treating my business as if it were still a little kid … until I wasn’t physically able to run things anymore.
The truth is that since January, I’ve barely been able to work and everything I do is at a hugely reduced pace.
Some days it’s all I can do just to get a blog post “written” (with Stu, my voice to text software), edited (by my gentleman friend), and formatted and posted (one of my assistants).
But you know what? My business is doing fine. Every day people go into my wonderful online store of treasures and they buy things. And this is keeping my business afloat.
To the point that I can still afford to turn down private clients when I want to, and there are still more people who want to work with me and my duck than we are willing/able to work with.
I don’t want to say that it hasn’t been scary, because it totally has. I haven’t wanted to learn to trust it, and what trust I have learned… let’s just say I got there kicking and screaming the whole way.
It’s almost as if my business has been saying, “You can rest, sweetie. I can carry you. It’s okay.” And I’ve been ignoring it. Or not taking it seriously.
No, my baby is all grown up now. So no more curfew and no more nagging. I’m impressed.
Thing 4: My meditation practice.
I’ve had a daily morning meditation practice for a long time. But the experience of chronic pain has taken it in a new direction.
Sometimes sitting and breathing and practicing the art of not doing is just too hard. And when that’s the case, I use the meditation time as a way to go inside my body and talk to myself. And I’ve documented many of these conversations for you.
And this has been an incredible experience for me.
Thing 5: I’ve had to get over my dislike of asking for help.
Of course asking for help is something I’m constantly advising other people to do.
I just don’t like doing it myself. And now I’ve had to. A lot.
You find out who your friends are when you can’t operate a pair of tweezers. 🙂
Seriously. I’ve had to lean on my friends. To test how much my gentleman friend can put up with me (answer: a lot). To ask my brother to give me an hour or so of help every day. It’s been intense.
Thing 6: I now work half days. Which is what I’d so dearly wanted.
When I first read “The 4 Hour Workweek” (some of you will recall that I’m not exactly the world’s biggest fan), it was clear to me that I wasn’t willing to put in the kind of 18 hour days you need to do in order to get to the point where you can do a four hour week.
But when Milana Leshinsky (I’m not her Right People either, but it doesn’t matter because this is brilliant) started talking about a 20 hour workweek … I was in.
Because twenty hours a week was something I could actually imagine happening. And it was something I was actively working towards.
Well. Now I’m there. Not by choice. Just because that is the absolute limit of what I can do. But still.
Going through this painful experience has forced me to transition to half-days. And made me realize that it really is possible for me to do. It’s made me re-examine my relationship with time and make different choices about time.
It’s exactly what I wished for. Just not the way I wished for it. But at this point, I’m just happy to have it.
Thing 7: I get stuff done. Like a madwoman.
When you can only work a little, you do it right.
In the past few weeks I’ve finished projects that normally would have taken way, way longer. Because I’m focused. I have to be.
In fact, there’s no time not to be.
Because what’s happening is that I’m paying someone to sit next to me and do what I would do … and we only have three hours to do it in. So stuff gets done.
We got the new Fluent Self store page up. We’ve transformed the way everyone on my team communicates with each other. We’re launching new stuff all over the place.
It’s knocking me out. In a good way.
Thing 8: It’s made me take my email sabbatical seriously.
I can’t cheat on my email sabbatical. And that’s a good thing. A really, really, really good thing.
That’s it.
It’s a lot. It’s enough.
I’d say more, but this is a ridiculously long post as it is. Plus, all this gratitude stuff is making me sleepy. Bed.
I’ll laugh about this later.
The other day I was on the phone with an old, old friend. And I mean “old” like we’ve been friends for too many years to not be able to laugh about really horrible things.
Which is exactly what we were doing.
Actually, we were laughing (and really only somewhat bitterly) about how completely miserable experiences so often turn out to be the best thing that ever happened to you.
“Remember…?” she said, choking back another giggle. “Your nasty, nasty ear infection that lasted six months? The one where you were just gushing goo and blood, and we all thought you’re going to die?”
“How could I forget? That was hysterical. Ohmygod. The pain was so bad that I’d wake myself from my own screams,” I said, now laughing so hard that I was flailing around for tissues to wipe the tears.
Oh, hindsight. You are so funny.
Obviously, not all pain = gain. And not all gain comes from pain. But sometimes there’s a connection.
The truth is that I never want to know pain like that again. It was awful and I wouldn’t wish it on anybody.
And at the same time, I’m aware that there is a direct connection between that experience of oozing goo from my ear and the one we’re having right now, the one in which you’re reading something I wrote … on my blog.
Because it was that illness that ultimately caused me to realize that I’m a writer.
It was that illness that resulted in me essentially downloading the entire Fluent Self system, which is what led to me launching my business.
It was that illness that introduced me to half the techniques in my repertoire, just because nothing else would work. And so many other things.
My desperation was a matchmaker. Things worked out. Almost suspiciously well.
But back to right now.
It is completely clear to me that I’m going to be ridiculously grateful (at least, at some point in the future) for the past few months of agonizing arm pain.
So if I’m going to end up feeling all appreciative of the thing that totally sucks right now anyway, I might as well take a moment or two to acknowledge all the good stuff that I will be loving later.
Not as a way of negating what is true for me right now. Not as a way of bulldozing through my discomfort and pain.
And definitely not making myself commit to some cheesy gratitude practice for its own sake, because forced compassion? Not very compassionate.
I totally don’t believe in making yourself say thank you. You don’t have to find every silver lining. Or count every blessing. Unless, of course, you feel like it.
For me it’s more about just actively noticing all the things that this pain — and this painful experience — have given me.
And then finding out: If I’m already thinking about the results of this awful experience that I will be so happy about in a month or two … is it possible that I could just be happy about them now? Hmmm. Maybe not.
Okay, so — if I really can’t be happy about them yet (ahhh, that’s more like it) — why not get used to the idea of eventually being happy about them? Yes.
That I can do.
So I’ve been working on my “Things to be insanely grateful for much, much later” list. And I want to share it with you. Not today though.
Tomorrow.
My teacher has an expression for this (insert heavy Ukrainian accent and serious expression here):
“There is good experience … and then there is useful experience.”
This is one of those sticky philosophical points that is much easier said than internalized. Easier believed than implemented.
And when it doesn’t work for you … and there are certain situations where — in that moment — it just can’t, you have my permission to toss it.
As a general principle, though, I like it.
A lot. It’s kind of like my use of “the good” and “the hard” in the Friday Chicken posts.
Just looking at my own situation here … this ordeal with my arms and not being able to use them? I’m not ready to call it good. But definitely useful.
When I talk about it with my girlfriends in a couple years? Oh, by then it will probably have found its way to the “good”.
Either way, this pain is giving me some seriously great stuff. It’s not the way I’d have liked to receive either the information or the results. It’s the way that it’s happened though.
And I’m ready to (okay, fine, however long it takes) get to the point where I can look back on this as one of the big symbolic turning points. Because really, that’s exactly what it is.
My big, fat “Things to be insanely grateful for much, much later on” list. Coming tomorrow.
COMMENT ZEN for today’s post:
You are more than welcome, as always, to chime in with thoughts, ideas, insights, reactions, similar experiences, and so on. Support is always welcome too.
What I’m NOT looking for: It’s really important to me that gratitude always be a choice and never turn into a “should” for me. So I’m not interested in anything along the lines of “oh good, you’re finally being grateful like you should be and that’s what will make you heal and it’s about time you started attracting sunbeams and rainbows” thing. Thanks!
Friday Check-in #37: the Bam! Pow! Zap! 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.
Friday!
Yet again I am completely baffled by how an entire week could have slipped by without my noticing.
So I’m going to try and notice now.
In retrospect. That still counts, in my book.
The hard stuff
Ow.
I talked yesterday about chasing the pain and how my upper arms and shoulders are now completely miserable.
So tired of this. I mean, yes. Yay. I no longer have excruciating pain in my forearms. I am now able to actually check Twitter occasionally.
But having the pain located somewhere else doesn’t really make it less painful, you know? It just makes it less noticeable.
CrankyPants McGrumbleBug strikes again!
Moody.
Tired.
Grumble grumble.
Working on too many things at once.
I can only really work three hours a day, since that’s how many hours the wonderful woman who helps me work can give me.
Other than that, I use Stu to help me write these posts and I get my gentleman friend to edit them and format them.
And of course Marissa answers all my email and moderates comments and generally runs things.
Normally when I get in crazed-production-mode, I just kind of make stuff happen. But that can’t happen right now because everything that happens needs someone else to do it.
So I find myself kind of chomping at the bit.
Wanting to do more. Not able to do more. Overwhelmed by just how much there is to be done and then frustrated at my inability to be more of a part of it.
But at least it’s forcing me to get shockingly organized. And to change my tactics.
Anyway. Let’s go spend some time with the good stuff.
The good stuff
Spring!
Yes. The springing. It is so good.
Seriously, I’d forgotten how ridiculously lush Portland gets. Everything starts blooming and it just gets crazy with color and smell as the whole thing gets progressively more outrageous.
Cherry blossoms. Pow! Magnolias. Pow! Tulips. Pow!
Bam! Pow! Zap! Out of control.
And our lilacs are about to go wild too. Pow!
And then when the sun is out and there are little white butterflies everywhere and everyone is all smiley … it’s just like living in a Disney cartoon. It’s almost too pretty.
SPRING!
Pesach food!
Say what you will about Passover. I don’t care.
I will just say in response: Kneidelach!
We ate lots of good things this week. But the kneidelach. Oh my.
No more Pesach food!
Say what you will about kneidelach. I don’t care.
Because there is nothing better than that damn holiday being over.
Once it was over, we went out and completely overdosed on chametz (translation: everything you’re not allowed to eat on Passover).
Macaroni and cheese AND rice AND black-eyed peas AND beans. And so on.
It was fantastic. Especially the and so on.
Arms hurting significantly less.
Well, it’s not really so much that they hurt less, more that they hurt in a different spot than they did before.
But the effect is that it’s that much less crippling I can do way, way more.
I can now wash dishes without being in agony. Bliss. I can navigate voicemail on my iPhone without wincing. I can use tweezers again.
Can’t even tell you how happy this makes me. Not to mention how much less-hard-and-annoying my life is now.
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 wasn’t that funny this week. Which is a good sign because it means either a. he’s actually working for a change or b. that I’m not using him as much.
A bit of both, actually.
Anyway, the gems from this week, including Stu’s acetyl Freudian slips.
- “Toledo’s” instead of delete those
- “my cousin mean Qaeda” instead of my cousin Michal
- “the crap it is as food” instead of the crappiest mood
- “taxation is bad” instead of relaxation is bad
- “the lovely murderous son” instead of the lovely Marissa
- “guru and blood” instead of goo and blood
- “because I can’t stop bitching about” instead of because I can’t stop THINKING about
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.
p.s. Do you know Joyce? She’s @fontsitediva on Twitter. And I adore her. And I also happen to know that she is having a serious sale (20% off) on her selection of typefaces. Gorgeous, gorgeous typefaces.
So if you’re a designer or otherwise a fellow typophile, take advantage of this. Coupon code is TAXRELIEF. Good through April 30. Yum.
Tension. Attention.
NOTE: If you’re one of the people who write in because you’re completely confused by the “what’s going on with Havi’s arms?!” question, so am I. Sorry.
The short answer is that it’s some sort of stuckified chronic pain that was originally doing a pretty decent imitation of carpal tunnel or repetitive-stress-ish stuff, but isn’t. All I can tell you is that it involves my body talking to me about internal stuff going on. A lot.
We’re making progress with it. I’m learning. It’s healing. My arms are going to be fine. Just give us time.
Chasing the pain.
The pain in my arms is moving. Migrating, really.
It started in my hands and wrists and then spent several weeks inching up my arms until it found its winter hibernation home — and then it settled in for a bit.
From about two inches (5 cm) above the wrist to two inches (5 cm) above the elbow. That’s where it wanted to do its agonizing thing. And that’s where I’ve been working on it.
But lately the pain has been on the move again. I can’t tell if it’s running away or just chasing some confused dream of Manifest Destiny. Either way, it now starts about mid-tricep and goes up to the shoulder joint.
And it’s talking. It has a lot to say.
An astonishing piece of information.
The scene: on the massage table. Chris (my wonderful massage therapist) is working on my arms, and I’m trying to relax.
Me: Hey, arms? Is there anything you need from me while we’re getting this massage? Something I can do to help you relax?
Arms: No relaxing! You can’t make us!
Me: Wow. Okay. You don’t have to relax if you don’t want to. It sounds like this is really worrying you. What’s going on? Can you tell me more about this?
Arms: Relaxation is bad. Period. No discussion.
And then I had to stop and think for a bit, because I didn’t want to accidentally step on my arms’ toes — which makes no sense, I know.
It’s just that I didn’t want the conversation to end by me saying something that would make my arms think that I’m not really listening and that I don’t really care. Because then they clam up and don’t talk at all.
And at the same time, I was completely confused. Really? Relaxation is bad?
All these years that I’ve been teaching yoga and meditation… and leading — wait for it — guided relaxation exercises… there has been a part of me that thinks that relaxation is bad?
I mean, I freaking love relaxation. I have more (and better) tricks than anyone I know for magically calming down and for getting into a quiet, safe space.
But if I’ve learned anything about anything, then it’s that if you want to find out what’s really going on, you have to be willing to drop all the things you think are true. Or, you know, at least some of them …
So I just have to ask …
Me: Okay. I’m willing to accept that relaxation could be a bad thing. I get that you have strong opinions on this, and I’m sure you have completely legitimate reasons for knowing what you know.
Arms: Well, yeah. Hmph.
Me (trying for the most neutral tone I can come up with): What happens when we relax? What is the bad part of relaxation?
Arms: Oh. Relaxation is bad for you. When you relax, you let your guard down and then you get hurt. People take advantage of you.
Me: What are you talking about?
Arms: (they provide me with about twenty examples of different situations, in the form of various memories)
Me: Oh.
Arms: All that bad stuff? We’re not letting that happen to you again. We are not going to let you get hurt again.
Lightbulb.
Me: Ohhhhhhhhhhh. Oh. You want to take care of me. You want to keep me from getting hurt.
Arms: Well, yeah.
Me: Every single time. All my pain and all my fear and all my stuck. It’s always about protection and safety. It’s always about these really good intentions that accidentally produce horribly painful results. This is amazing.
Arms: Just don’t relax, okay? Don’t let down your guard.
Me: Ohmygod. It’s the vigilance thing again.
Arms: Don’t relax. Please.
Me: Can’t we just practice being mindful and aware as the way to make sure that I’m safe? Does it always have to be this painful?
Arms: Don’t. Relax.
Stumbling on an understanding.
Me: Alright. You totally have a point. In all the situations that you’re talking about, I was relaxed to some extent and I did get hurt.
Arms: Ha!
Me: Here’s the thing. In all of those situations, I wasn’t paying attention. I wasn’t being mindful. There were almost always warning bells and little flashing red lights. And I didn’t notice them. And do you know why?
Arms: Because we didn’t cause you enough pain?
Me: No. No, not that.
Arms: Why?
Me (crying): In all of those situations, I was in a lot of tension. A lot of emotional pain. And the tension distracted me. It made it harder for me to notice other things that were going on.
Arms: Shit. Seriously? But the tension was supposed to make you pay attention.
Me: I know it was. It just didn’t work that way.
Arms: But tension is good! Tension is how we make you listen!
Me: Oh. Now I get it. I’m not talking to my arms, am I? I’m talking to my tension.
Arms/Tension: Yes. This is your tension. Tense is good. Relaxed is bad. Yadda yadda yadda. I feel like an idiot.
And then coming to an understanding.
Tension: I have been holding on for so long. So. Long. Trying to get you to be on your guard so that you can avoid these situations … and you’re telling me that the tension is the thing that distracts you from noticing? It was me all along?
Me: I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry.
Tension: No. This is crazy. I sabotaged my own plan and didn’t even know it.
Me: I guess. I mean, I guess we both did.
Tension: What happens now?
It’s not that funny, but it kind of is.
Me: I don’t know. I mean, I guess I’m supposed to release you. Ha. Pun. I mean, play on words. Releasing muscle tension. But then releasing my tension from duty. Funny.
Tension: I have failed you.
Me: Oh. I don’t think so. A little irony never hurt anyone. I mean, you know. Life is full of stuff like this. I’m glad I’m learning this now and not thirty years from now.
Tension (suspicious): This doesn’t sound like you. Why are you in such a good mood?
Me: I suppose can’t be mad at you if you’re on my side, even if right now you’re causing me pain.
Tension: So I’m going to leave and you’re going to replace me with mindfulness and watchfulness and paying attention.
Me: That’s the plan. Probably a good one.
Tension: I don’t know how to leave.
Me: Well, I do have massage every single week so, you know, we can practice.
Tension: That sounds good. Wait, what am I saying?
And then we both cracked up. And my massage therapist gave me this look. He thinks I’m crazy. But in a good way.