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.

Birthdays, existential crises, and talking about the recession.

I spent about an hour and a half talking to Naomi this weekend. About the usual stuff… you know, stuff we’re working on, stuff we’re thinking about, how my duck is a whore.

About how much it sucks that we’re so far away from each other, and how great it will be when we trounce Pam Slim in the world’s sexiest pillow fight at the slumber party that is going to be us at SXSW. Then we’re going after Colleen and Sonia. At least I hope we are. I’ve never actually met Naomi. She might be a spindly little troll.

For now, though, that’s the plan!

But back to the mission:

But mostly we really talk about changing the world. About our mission.

About our own personal stucknesses (especially the blessing-curse of being a softhearted, highly sensitive, prone-to-tears Pisces) that sometimes get in the way of our mission.

And about the stucknesses that get in the way of our Right People doing the thing they so desperately want to do. Because it’s their mission. Their thing.

It’s cool because there aren’t that many people I know who really, truly get what I think of as my purpose. What it means. Naomi gets it — because she shares it.

I wish there were a less cheesy way to talk about things like this, but there you have it.

All this waxing philosophical makes me thirsty.

Anyway, all this deep talk about Meaning and Life Work and stuff got us all verklempt (or “pertinent”, if you’re my voice-to-text software).

Or drunk, if you’re Naomi.

Because I’m a sensitive mouse. I can get all emotional about my work and how important it is to me. It isn’t pretty.

And even though Naomi wouldn’t admit publicly to being a sensitive mouse, whatever. She’s a sensitive mouse of a delicate flower wrapped in a petunia and swaddled in moonbeams. We all know the truth.

So at this point we were deep into the dark existential crisis of confronting our purpose and stuff. And then we remembered that oh, right, this is just standard pre-birthday angst.

Oh. Right. That.

Yeah. So my birthday is next Saturday (the 7th) and Naomi’s is the day after that (the 8th). Which means: of course it’s feeling-emotional-about-life-and-purpose time. Again.

We calmed the hell down. Felt much better.

Well, after some more angsty hair-tearing about what it means to be getting older. Which is hilarious, because Naomi’s still practically a teenager and also doesn’t have any hair.

What we want for our birthday.

Actually, what we want for our birthday is what we want all the time.

To know that we’re doing everything we can to help our people — our Right People — feel safe, supported and loved.

To work through more of our own crap so that we can get better at feeling safe, supported and loved.

And help our people do it too.

So they can do the thing. And feel good about doing it. And help their Right People.

Yes, we’re gooey romantic idealists.

Don’t get me wrong. It’s not like we don’t like fansocks. Because we do. A lot.

It’s just that we’re also we take what we do (and what it means to us) really, really seriously. Uh, in a fun way! Like, the way religious zealots have fun. If they have fun. Never mind.

This is what we’re doing for our birthday.

We put together a special class to teach. About the biggest stuckness out there right now — this whole recession thing.

Our take on it, our advice, our “this is what I would do if I were you” ranting and the absolute best stuff we’ve got.

Because right now this is it. This is the stuckness we’re seeing the people we care about struggle with. And seeing people stuckified — especially when it’s the people we worry about the most — depresses the hell out of us. Because it’s awful and hard. And often unnecessary.

So yeah, we’re celebrating our birthdays by teaching what we know and what we believe in. I already mentioned the zealot thing, right?

Details if you want them.

This is not on the actual day, of course. I’ll be spending the Havi-and-Naomi birthday weekend in retreat. Meditation. Yoga. More meditation. And Naomi will be in a bathtub of gin or something. I don’t know. Ask her!

The point is, we’re doing this thing on Wednesday, March 4th instead. Though really, we’ll be giving everyone who registers for the class a copy of the recording.

So you could listen on our birthday weekend if you’re an obsessive stalker. Or the week after that if you’re just a regular person. Or whenever.

We made a little page about it over at HaviandNaomi.com.*

* Warning: it is kind of curse-ey. Naomi has to warn her people that I’m a total hippie, so it’s only fair that I warn you: curse-ey. There.

If you’re joining us … yay! Because knowing that you’re taking steps to destuckify with us is totally better than fansocks.

And even if you can’t, that’s cool too. Because knowing that you’re around and that you’re part of this work we’re doing is already a big deal. I mean that.

Warning: about to get mushy.

A tiny declaration of love.

It’s kind of crazy, but my work and my writing and my “hi, I’m documenting and modeling my working-on-my-stuff process even when it gets messy” thing has allowed me to meet the best people ever.

Naomi, for one.

Also, people who love my duck or at least don’t think I’m cuckoo for having one. People who get excited about the possibility of having a conscious, intentional, non-cheesy relationship with themselves and their stuff.

People like you.

So really, this is already a pretty sweet birthday and an amazing year.

Actually, I have all these other incredibly mushy things I want to say but this whole post is already a turning into the world’s most embarrassing confession. So I’ll stop right here!

And just say that I’m really freaking happy that we’re in this thing together.

 

haviandnaomi_button

 

Item! Incoherent rambling!

Fluent Self Item!A somewhat goofy mini-collection of stuff I’ve been reading, stuff I’ve been thinking about and oh, some completely random crap.

Basically the stuff that never gets mentioned here because I’m not the kind of person who can just make some teeny little point. Not into the whole brevity thing, as the Dude would say.

Actually, I’m under the strict compulsion to write ten pages about anything on my mind. So this is me. Practicing brevity.

So the hardest posts for me to write — I mean, “write” — are the ones like this.

Where dictation software meets incoherent rambling meets a bunch of links.

I ended up writing chunks of it by hand and then filling in some of the blanks with my voice-to-text software thingy. It’s mostly working. If it doesn’t drive me crazy.

And if it does, you’ll be the first to hear about it! Complete with deranged cackling! Mwahahaha, etc.

Okay. Let’s do this thing.

Item! Post No. 13 in a series that is the only thing standing between me and a thousand open browser windows.

Item! Cake! But not really.

Heidi is marvelous. So is this post.

“Moods change. Minds change. Weather changes too. Friends move or move on. Loved ones pass away. Leases end. Economies dip and die dive. But I’m the one I’ll go to bed and wake with till the day I die. It may sound obvious but it’s not something I’ve always appreciated.”

You know you want to read more, right?

Item! Speaking of vulnerability.

This post from Christine Martell is open, honest and incredibly powerful. You don’t often get to read someone’s deep, dark, secret thoughts about where their business is going.

Power.

“I’m realizing I created tools to help people feel more connected and alive inside organizations, to combat soul death. I created soul death for myself doing it.”

She’s @cmartell on Twitter if you’re a Twitterite.

Item! Yum! Also just fun.

My friend Denise finally started a blog. Which is wonderful.

Also she says things like this:

“Mouthwatering menu? Check! Bucket of butter? Check!”

How can you not adore her? Also, the chronicles of her “I just quit my job so I went to France to eat stuff!” adventure are highly entertaining.

I am super curious to see what comes into this space and what she’s going to end up doing, but keep an eye on her. I’m predicting all sorts of interesting things.

She’s @deniseds on Twitter.

Item! An open letter to social mavens!

We love Erika. She really gets us Highly Sensitive types. Also, she’s a fellow shivanaut.

This post — an open letter to social mavens and shivanauts — is super interesting. And I’m pretty sure it’s still interesting even if you’re not (yet) one of the wacky.

And she’s @LifeBlazing on Twitter.

Item! This is gorgeous!

A bunch of people wrote some amazing letters last week after my imploring them to do so and then writing a personal ad to my closet.

This one from Tiara Shafiq is hot hot hot.

“We will dress up in black and red and sequins and struff our stuff at burlesque balls. We will commune with artists and break the bread of inspiration. We will launch other people’s feathered dreams.”

Right?

She’s @divabat on Twitter, if you’re interested. And I mean, come on! Who wouldn’t be?

Item! Upcoming!

Wendy Cholbi and Mynde Mayfield are doing a (no-cost) teleclass tomorrow — Thursday — about terror of technology and useful tools for non-scary business planning.

They’re so much fun. And it looks like really good stuff. Take a look.

Item! MORE upcoming!

So … more details to come, but mark your calendar for now.

Selma and I will be flying out to North Carolina to teach a live (like, in-person) workshop the weekend of May 23rd. I know!

Destuckifying, wacky yoga brain training, good times. Save the date. Because we’re going to do some damage, is all I’m saying.

We’re only doing four live events this year and one of them is in Germany, so if there’s any way you can swing it, this is it. 🙂

That is all.

That’s enough, right?

Happy, happy reading. Happy Blustery Windsday. See you tomorrow.

The myth of compromise.

What if it’s not about giving up on things?

There’s this thing that happens that drives me crazy. Well, it’s a thing that I do.

I can put off making a decision — for what turns into way too long — because I don’t want to have to weigh all the pros and cons.

So then I finally get around to doing the thing or making the change … and it turns out that the compromise I was dreading was a essentially a false compromise. In fact, nonexistent.

A bunch of examples?

1. The compromise of cleaning things.

About two years ago my gentleman friend and I decided that we weren’t going to use chemicals to clean the house anymore. And we weren’t going to support box stores.

Because oof.

We decided to make all of our own cleaning supplies from natural ingredients.

Here is the compromise we thought we were going to be making:

Sure, it might be more expensive and it might be more time-consuming, and it might be harder work … but it would be worth it!

It would be worth it, we figured, for all sorts of reasons. We would be treating our house with love. And our bodies. So … good for the house, good for us and good for the world.

It seemed like a fair trade-off.

Here is what actually happened. There was no trade-off.

More expensive? Hardly. Most of the materials we already have in our kitchen anyway … and how expensive is stuff like baking soda? We’re saving money.

More time-consuming? Hahahaha. Not at all. Just the opposite.

For one thing, we don’t have to go out to the store to get cleaning stuff. And it takes all of two minutes to whip up a batch of simple scrubbing solution.

More work? Oh. My. God. If I had only known — not like I would have believed it — that a mixture of baking soda, dish detergent and vinegar would clean my sink faster and better than all the products I’d been using…

I hardly even know what to say, other than wow, I feel completely foolish. There was no compromise.

There was just the thing that’s way better and the thing that’s way worse. Nothing more.

2. The compromise of being a woman.

Guys, you can skip this if you want.

This was already many years ago. I remember the first time I read the statistics.

Like that women — just in the United States — landfill or incinerate 11.3 billion “disposable” menstrual products each year. That it takes about five hundred years for one of these to partially biodegrade.

And that’s just the tip of the bad-for-you, bad-for-the-planet iceberg.

Shocking, right? Ugh.

So I made what I thought was the fair compromise. I researched little cup thingies and flannel liner thingies.

I figured okay, this might be more expensive. It might be more of a pain. It might screw up my life a little bit and be inconvenient –but at least I won’t be contributing to those ugly numbers.

It seemed like the reasonable thing to do. Like, not being part of that statistic made those other things worth it.

Boy was I ever wrong. Again.

Turns out that it’s cheaper. It’s more comfortable. You don’t have to worry about the possibility of things like chemical-treated rayon threads hanging out in your freaking cervix. Or Toxic Shock Syndrome, tfu tfu tfu. And it’s not even slightly inconvenient.

All you need is a pretty ceramic pot to put on a shelf in your bathroom, and a nice bag to keep in your purse. Not a big deal at all.

Not a big deal because it isn’t even really a compromise.

You’re saving time, you’re saving money, you’re saving your health, and — if not saving the environment, at least inflicting less damage. And that’s it.

Yes, it would be worth even if it sucked — but it doesn’t. No compromise.

3. The compromise of…?

I can think of at least four other examples like this in my life. But I want to figure out what I haven’t thought of.

There are so many decisions I find myself putting off until there’s time to decide.

Whether or not to hire a more regular bookkeeper. Do we really even need our car? Should I outsource x, y or z? Would I feel better if I did yoga twice a day instead of once?

The compromise of investing in yourself: it’s never a compromise.

My experience tells me that when I do the thing I think is right, everything else just kind of falls into place.

The stuff I think is going to be hard… not so hard. The things I think I’m going to have to give up … I didn’t want them anyway. I didn’t even like them. Or they’re not relevant. Or I was just wrong.

So what am I waiting for?

I think a lot of the time I feel this pressure to sit down and really give the new decision an interview. To figure out if it’s right for me or not. To mourn what I think I’m going to lose. And that’s legitimate, obviously.

It’s just that … here’s the thing.

Generally I don’t have time — or I don’t think I have the time, or I wildly exaggerate the amount of time needed — to sit down and just do the whole decision-making processing thing.

So I skip it. I put it off. I wait a little longer.

And then — finally — when I sit down and look at it, I generally know right away that it’s right. There is no need for compromise.

What if there’s only good stuff?

Sometimes it’s not weighing the good stuff versus the bad stuff, but recognizing that there is only good stuff. And that drives me batty, because really, it’s so much easier to slip into the pattern of wondering and delaying.

Every time I invest in myself, my health, my business or my general happiness, it’s turned out to be completely worth it. And it’s also turned out not to have been the sacrifice that I’d imagined it would be.

Good feeds good.

Health feeds health.

A happy home gives back to you, just like a happy body.

Or a happy business.

I don’t know yet what I’m missing out on. Obviously.

But I’m getting geared up to try more new things. Maybe even a lot of new things. At least a few.

And I’m going to see if I can do it WITHOUT automatically assuming that I’m going to have to give something up in order to receive. Because maybe it doesn’t have to work like that.

It’s not the economy.

So the other day I saw an enormous “going out of business” sign on the window of a neighborhood store. Oh. Sad face.

“Due to the current state of the economy, we are unable to continue ….”

I didn’t even need to read the rest.

But you know what?

Let’s talk about this.

Okay. I’ve walked past this very storefront at least twice a day — every single day — for the past year. And never noticed it.

Seriously. I could not, for the life of me, have told you anything about it. Nothing. What it is, what it sells, or even what it’s called.

Hmmm. And now they’re going out of business.

It must be the economy.

Right?

So I spent about ten minutes in the store. Talked to the owner. Poked around. And realized that I loved this place. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t known about it, because it was my kind of thing. I even bought something.

And I still don’t know what they’re called.

That’s how bad the economy is.

A name that’s not memorable — or located anywhere you could read it. A store that’s invisible. But it’s the economy.

I asked what the rent was, because I’m Israeli and don’t have problems doing things like that. Turns out that it’s just over $1200 a month.

On a street with an insane amount of foot traffic. A street that supports yarn stores and hipster cafés.

In fact, the café I sat in — on the same block — was packed. As were most of them.

You know, because the economy is so crappy.

Yes, the economy is crappy. You know what’s really crappy though?

That otherwise smart, goodhearted, well-meaning people start a business out of a labor of love, and no one tells them about the part where you have to learn how to run a business.

Which includes stuff like being visible. Telling me what’s special about you. Being as you as you can be — out loud — so that your Right People (hello, I’m one of them!) can tell people about you.

The fact that these wonderful people who start businesses don’t know how to do that is understandable. I mean, argh, it’s not as though someone sits down and explains it to you when you start your business.

So yeah, I get that there are a lot of us out there who don’t yet know how to tell the people who might be our Right People about how our businesses can give them what they want and need.

But to go and pin the failure of that invisible business on the economy … that doesn’t help anyone.

Not me. Not the rest of the people who would love to end up being your customers and clients. Not the economy. Not you.

I’m just going to go ahead and say it.

Even in the worst of economic times, there are thousands and thousands of businesses — large and small, in physical spaces and on the internets — which absolutely thrive.

You know I don’t go in much for the tough love approach here, but if we’re talking about businesses that thrive, I really have to say this:

If yours isn’t one of them, this is the time to figure out what’s not working.

Aside from the economy.

Because even though sometimes that’s a good enough reason? It’s not a good enough reason until you’ve been daring. Until you’ve tried some hard-core “let’s mix it up and change what we’re doing” stuff. This is the time to do stuff differently.

As Bill Clinton would have said if he were me, “It’s not the economy, stupid.”

If you want to open a shop in, say, Manhattan, you pretty much have to start with huge piles of money and have the best business plan in the world.

In way-lower-rent Portland, you can pretty much be all “hey, man, let’s open a store… it’ll be awesome.”

In times when money is flowing freely, that can totally work. There used to be so much money on the street that people were supporting this store despite its invisibility.

The good economy was camouflaging everything that they weren’t doing.

But in a tighter, more challenging economy, you absolutely have to pick up some basic biggification skills, or — you know what? It just isn’t going to happen.

A little story.

A couple of years ago I hired a business coach. Except that I didn’t call him a business coach because the word “coach” gets on my nerves, so he kindly agreed to be my mentor.

(Yes, I have issues.)

It was scary and wonderful and expensive. Did I mention scary? And wonderful. Because, among other things, he didn’t let me get away with stuff like blaming external forces for things not going right in my business. Which drove me crazy.

Resistance to this concept? Oh yes, I had it.

For example, I was selling DVDs that teach you how to do the wacky yoga brain training technique that is basically the thing that gets credit for most of my smartnesses.

When I say that I was “selling” them, that’s not really accurate. I had a website. Where you could buy them. Theoretically. If I sold one a month, that was doing well.

Me: “No one is interested in wacky yoga brain training stuff. Period. It’s not accessible. It’s too alternative. Also, people suck.”
My business mentor: “Before we go there, do you want to rewrite the copy?”
Me: “Huh?”
My business mentor: “Well, we could work on getting more traffic to the site, too, but you’re probably not going to get a huge upswing — at least not without a ton of work. But we could definitely do more to get the people who are showing up to know if they want to buy it or not.”

Last month I sold 55 copies of “that DVD that nobody wants”.

And not by trying to.

I don’t advertise. I don’t push. In fact, I hardly even mention them at all.

Is traffic higher? A little bit. But mostly people are buying now because I’ve done a better job telling them what it is, and who it’s for. People who would have shrugged and clicked away now get that this is the thing that is going to make a difference for them.

And that’s because I rewrote the copy. And rewrote some more. I’m not so madly in love with it that I don’t think it could still use some tweaking — but it works.

The thing I desperately wish people knew.

No, it’s not “learn how to write copy!” Though that is pretty good advice.

It’s “try stuff”.

You know what’s really tragic? The woman who opened that store is going to get a “real job”. Her words. The kind of job that has a boss, regular hours, and comes with a cubicle. She’s devastated. Understandably.

She’s finished trying to do the thing she thought she wanted to do — because of the economy.

But here’s the thing. By assuming she’d done all she could, she missed that fact that no one could see her store.

I don’t want to turn this into a “here’s 20 things to do” post, though we could do that sometime.

The point is this: TRY STUFF before assigning blame to the most convenient target. I know that the economy is scary. Just make your peace with the fact that hey, you haven’t tried everything yet.

There are so many tiny little things that you can tweak, alter and play with. This is true in a physical location and it’s true online … there are so many things to shift and change, and each one can have an insanely huge impact.

Tweak. Document. Repeat.

Some of the changes are soft changes. Mental and emotional shifts.

Like figuring out what part of you thinks that all marketing is sleazy and gross (because most of us have that), and doing some healing there.

Some of the changes have to do with things that are literally getting in the way.

LIke adding one sweet, quirky “Hi, I’m a real human being” line to the contact page on your website. Walking across the street to see if the name of your store is readable.

Point is: commit to doing stuff differently. As a general life practice.

Even one change to start with. Any change. Just make it. Small shifts. Medium sized ones. Write one blog post. Call one person.

And then the rest of it is about paying attention. Noticing what parts still need love.

I don’t mean to imply that it’s easy. Clearly it’s not. Also, it’s okay that you don’t know what to do yet. No one expects you to know what to do. And it really is that much harder right now.

So yes, you’re absolutely entitled to have a good cry and to ask for a hug or whatever else you need. And of course a long whine about how incredibly frustrating it all is. Completely legitimate.

And then it’s time to sit down and figure things out what would help your right people feel safe saying yes to you.

And what’s stopping them.

I’ll give you a hint. It probably isn’t because of the economy.

Letters, wackiness, surprising little seeds.

Some of you will remember how I wrote a personal ad. For my perfect house.

Which is how I ended up living here at Hoppy House. Hoppy House!*

* Sing Ho for Hoppy House! Hoppy House! Ho!

It was fantastic. Especially since I’d really only written it so that I’d feel better. Not because it was actually going to work or anything.

And then …

It kind of started a thing.

People started writing personal ads. For a better job. Or a job.

And for virtual assistants. Significant others. Apartments. And various other things that you wouldn’t really expect someone to write a personal ad for.

I even posted one of them here — when my friend Kelly Parkinson from Copylicious contacted me because she was looking for another copywriter to work with.

Which got insanely great results.

So here’s what I’m thinking.

1. I want to update you on the fabulous stuff that resulted from Kelly’s experiment.
2. Then I’m going to write the tiniest of personal ads as a continuation of my own experiment.
3. And then I’m going to hope that this has planted some seeds and that you’re going to maybe be writing some tiny little letters of your own.

Even if you think this is completely stupid (and, to be honest, I kind of still do), maybe you’ll end up playing with this anyway.

Because writing is healing.

Because letting people know what you need has power.

Because I’m feeling completely inspired by my clients and readers who are writing letters to their blocks and letters to their money issues and letters to their future selves. Also, totally enjoying their weird and surprising results.

Absolute worst-case scenario? You’ll get a little more clear on what you really want.

And who knows? Maybe you’ll learn something that you didn’t know yet. And pick up some more information about where your “I have trouble asking for stuff” patterns tend to show up.

First, the long overdue update.

Actually, Kelly wrote a whole post called How I collected fresh brains for 2009, and it was fascinating and you should read it.

But she also sent me a more detailed description of what went down. And oh my gosh.

Havi,
I’m over the moon about the responses I’ve gotten so far — more than 60! And every email was thoughtful and delightful.This has been the single most exciting event to ever happen to my business.

I got so much more than just several amazing copywriter-collaborators. I got introduced to a whole network of smart, creative people.

The crazy thing is, it’s not like I was following some expert template for how to hire independent contractors.

No one told me to do it this way.

But “this way” ended up being more effective than any other way I could possibly have done it.

I hope all the writers I couldn’t work with, who are wondering where to find business, will take this message home and embroider it above their desks:

When the voices in your head tell you something will be a pain in the ass, and that you won’t enjoy it, don’t listen. (In this case, “something” could be marketing yourself, hiring an assistant, trying the chicken.)

Create a way to do it you WILL enjoy. Chances are if you’re drawn to it, it will be more effective anyway.

This has been true in so many other parts of my business, so I finally applied it to this thing I was resisting.

I stopped being afraid I’d find the wrong people, and started imagining what it would be like to work with the right people. And not just the right people, but the ideal people! And that’s exactly what I got! (with a little help from you, of course.)

Wow.

And then a tiny letter of my own.

Here it is. It’s to my closet. Yeah, I know.

Dear office closet,
I would dearly love to turn you into an Angel Refueling Station.

This is a completely wacky idea I got from one of my Kitchen Table participants (who said the brilliant words “Even angels need refueling stations!”). And it’s just wacky enough that I’m going to have to do it.

The idea is that you, my closet, would become a space for me to curl up in and hide when I feel depleted and down.

I really don’t know what we need to do to make this happen. I’m also feeling nervous that it will be complicated and time-consuming.

So if you, my soon-to-be-revamped office closet, have any ideas about what would help you become a happy, nourishing, replenishing sort of space for me and my duck to hide in … please speak up.

Love,
Havi & Selma

There.

And then a hope.

I would love it if you’d write some letters of your own. If you feel like it.

Partly because it would help me feel decidedly less crazy.

But also because I’m thoroughly enjoying this process of watching things shift and change just because we’re finally throwing some love and attention their way.

And intention. Intention is big. Because even if it does nothing but promote mindfulness, then yay.

I mean, interacting consciously with yourself: strong stuff. Doing it out loud? Even better. Because then other people can actively help you get what you need.

And then planting seeds, whether within your network or in your consciousness or both … very useful.

I’m going to repeat the thing that Kelly said.

Because it was so great.

When the voices in your head tell you something will be a pain in the ass, and that you won’t enjoy it, don’t listen. (In this case, “something” could be marketing yourself, hiring an assistant, trying the chicken.)

Create a way to do it you WILL enjoy.

And then I’m going to write a bunch of letters. Or at least one.

The Fluent Self