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.

The Great Email Sabbatical Experiment.

Email Sabbatical: is it all it’s cracked up to be?

Man, I love pretending that this blog has anything at all to do with the world of hard-hitting journalism. I just read my own subtitle in Announcer Voice and totally cracked myself up.

Moving on.

So Mona and Jess and a bunch of people whose names aren’t coming to mind at the moment have asked me to “report back” on the whole email sabbatical thing.

And — if you’re not in the loop — my duck and I decided to take a break from email for all of 2009 as one of my many experiments in how to run a successful business while still maintaining some semblance of sanity.

Actually I was hoping we’d make it a week. Setting the goal for a year was just crazy-talk.

That was a month ago.

So yeah, I’m reporting back. Here goes — my thoughts on Life Without Email.

Let’s start with the surprises …

Actually there were pretty much only surprises. Seven of them, to be exact.

I’ll try to make most of them pretty short. Last one is the biggest deal, by far.

Surprise #1: I adore being on email sabbatical!

A little background …

I freaking LOVED email. Madly and obsessively. Addiction was not even the word for it. So, for the record, I was not expecting to enjoy or appreciate my email sabbatical. But I was willing to take it on the chin in order to be able to keep running my business.

I have only one thing to say to that and that’s hahahahahahahahahahaha.

Life without email is pure unadulterated joy.

Surprise #2: People actually, you know, listen to me and stuff!

Before Email Sabbatical, I was getting hundreds of email messages a day. Hundreds.

When I first announced here that I wasn’t going to be answering them anymore, it was clear to me what was going to happen.

Here’s the way I pictured it: First a flood of sobbing, fist-shaking “How can you do this to us?!” email, then a slowing-down as people realized I was serious and then it would be back to business as usual.

By which I mean that I’d still be getting the same insane amounts of email, but the lovely Marissa would be answering them.*

*Marissa always signs her own name so no need to worry about whether any correspondence is “really” coming from me or not.

What actually happened? In reality? I stopped getting insane amounts of email. The flood slowed to a trickle.

Apparently, the people who write to me actually read this blog. I was stunned. It was the most brilliant thing ever.

Seriously. Thousands of people around the world stopped writing to me because I asked them to. I mean, good grief. I had no idea it worked like that!

Really. Had I known that all I had to do was ask, I would have gone on email sabbatical years ago.

Surprise #3: Short meetings! I mean, really short.

I expected to have to meet with Marissa every day for at least half an hour just to give her instructions on how to deal with all the enormous backed up piles of email.

Nope. Every few days she’ll have three or four that she’s not sure what to do with. That’s it. It’s not even a big deal.

Surprise #4: What’s with all the snail mail!?

Tomorrow in the Friday Chicken I’ll list some of the neat stuff that’s been showing up in the mail box lately, but let me just say that this is the most “real, live mail” I’ve gotten in my entire life.

Now that people know Selma and I aren’t doing email, they send cards. It’s the sweetest thing in the entire world.

Seriously? I’ve been leading teleclasses for a couple of years now. I’ve never gotten a thank you note before. I mean, a real one. On a pretty card. What?

Sure, people used to send books they wanted me to review and stuff like that, but now I just get presents. Very cool.

p.s. I LOVE YOU GUYS TOO!

Surprise #5: You really can say everything you need to in 140 characters.

When people need something from me or have a question, they send me a direct message on Twitter.

And — to my astonishment — I’ve found that just about everything can be answered in one (maybe two) direct messages.

DMs are easy. They’re quick. And no one feels short-changed because they already know that I’m not going to email them.

Also people now make their questions short and to the point, instead of the ten-page “here is my entire life story” sort of messages that I used to get back B.E.S. (Before Email Sabbatical).

God bless Twitter.

Surprise #6: It doesn’t matter anymore that I suck at saying “NO!”

I’ve talked about this in a gazillion posts, specifically the one that was actually titled
Saying no. Feeling awful about saying no.

But also here and here and some other places.

I’ve outed myself as someone who hates saying no so many times and asked for help with this so many times …. and it just doesn’t matter.

People will ask.

So what was happening was that I was getting way, way better at saying no, but at the same time way, way more people were asking.

So if all those people asked for something and I was brave enough to say no to almost all of them, it still sucked.

I’d say no to nine out of ten impossible requests but that one last request might take forty-five minutes or more. If that happened every day … you see my point.

Now I still can’t say no, but I don’t get the asks — Marissa filters them out. She has no problem saying no for me. I love her.

Surprise #7: Where’s all this time coming from?

This is the best part of the whole thing. By a lot.

But I have to tell you a tiny little story. I go to this wonderful woman Carolyn Winkler for PSYCH-K every couple of weeks.

It’s this wacky technique that uses muscle testing and wordishness to work on stuckified and limiting beliefs. I totally don’t get it but I love the hell out of it.

The first time I ever did PSYCH-K it was to work on my belief that I have to be invisible and no one is allowed to see me because it’s not safe for me to be seen. The next week I found out I was being quoted in Woman’s Day.

Love. It.

Anyway, a week before the Email Sabbatical, I did a session with Carolyn about time and — more specifically — me having it.

I told her I wanted two and a half hours in the afternoon to do whatever I want, but that I didn’t believe that would ever even be a remote possibility.

She did her stuff. I promptly forgot about it. Then I went on email sabbatical and a week later I was telling a friend how it’s so cool having all this time all of a sudden.

That giving up email had opened up two and a half hours in my day and now I get to go for a walk in the afternoon or study or sit at a cafe.

Then last week I was flipping through my journal and discovered the PSYCH-K session that I’d completely forgotten about. Two and a half hours. Every day. It’s incredible.

Bottom line?

This sabbatical might just be the best thing that ever happened to me. Actually I think it is.

Biggest regret? That I didn’t do it sooner.

Also, it’s weird to think about all the time I spent feeling resentful about what seemed (to me) to be people not respecting my time. Turned out that I was the one who didn’t respect my time.

Because as soon as I set boundaries for it, the respect was right there. Whoops. Sorry about that.

Are there hard parts? Sort of. I mean, sometimes you miss people. And sometimes you need a distraction and email isn’t there to give it to you.

I jump on my trampoline, go meditate, go for a walk, read Jenny the Bloggess or make a cup of tea. Or Twitter. There’s always Twitter. And there’s no way in hell I’m going on sabbatical from that so let’s never talk about that again.

I’ll see you there! Or here. Or at SXSW. Just not in my inbox. Really, it’s better for both of us that way.

Item! A bunch of stuff!

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.

I’m rather behind on my internet reading due to the annoying part about not enjoying clicking on things. Yes, arms/hands are still in crazy pain.

Still, I did manage to find lots of good stuff.

Item! Post No. 11 in the series that just keeps on beating the odds.

Item! This is absolutely beautiful!

This powerful post by Wendy Cholbi took my breath away:

Me: But doesn’t it kind of defeat the purpose of disguised learning to call it disguised learning? I mean, if you know you’re supposed to be learning, it’s not really disguised, is it?

Genius Daughter: Well, it’s still funner.

It starts off sweet and funny … and just when you’ve nodded at the lovely insight that you think is the point of the post, she takes it somewhere completely unexpected.

I think you really need to read this one.

Also, you can follow her on Twitter. She’s @wendycholbi.

Item! Who doesn’t like toasters?

Everyone loves Johnny Truant (or as I insist on calling him, Johnny B. Truant because he’s @JohnnyBTruant on Twitter).

This post in particular is worth reading for the following line:

I raised my hand. “We’re honoring toasters by selling one into slavery?”

Also the rest of it is great. But that was where I spit all over my computer.

Item! This is some serious soul-baring!

I was really moved by Sarah Marie Lacy’s intimate post about stucknesses.

Some serious soul-baring here. Be kind and give her love.

Wow, right? She’s @smlacy if you Twitter. Which you do, right? Right?

Item! This is my new favorite blog!

It’s called Downward Dragon and I love it.

The most simple description is that it’s about a woman who used yoga to kick a heroin habit and is documenting that process.

When I was using, I got so much nothing done, it was unbelievable.

But really it’s about a whole bunch of things.

This is one of the most clear and honest blogging voices I’ve come across. It’s astonishing. Read this post especially.

Also she’s @loladragon on Twitter.

Item! Apparently my duck is a whore!

Naomi (@IttyBiz) called my duck a whore. AGAIN.

It’s a good thing I am madly in love with her. Or otherwise feathers would fly.

Item! Speaking of ducks!

The rule of having a duck is that people will send you photos and trinkets and all sorts of bizarre things if there is anything ducky about them.

At least three people send me a link to this especially adorable duck picture, but the first one was Jeff Moriarty (@jmoriarty on Twitter).

That is all.

This is as much linking as my poor hands can take.

Actually more. I’ve been writing this in five minute increments all week.

Yes, I know.

Back soon.

Conversations with blocks, Part 2

Because it’s not enough that I talk to walls … I recently got sucked into an especially bizarre internal conversation. Between me and myself.

Which I reported back to you, verbatim. Because having a blog means you can do stuff like that.

Background, anyone?.

Yeah, so if you’d like to read part one of my conversation with blocks, that will give you some perspective on just how crazy I am how powerful this process can be what’s going on here.

Otherwise the CliffsNotes version is that I started talking to the part of myself which blocks me from moving forward.

We agreed that it would be best to remove some of these blocks — but only if I could give the part doing the blocking some serious reassurance that this would still be safe.

And I was told that I had to go talk to my fear. Which I so wasn’t looking forward to. But I did it anyway. Here goes.

Talking to my fear. Take 1.

Me (reluctant): Uh … apparently I’m like, supposed to talk to you or something. But I’m kind of terrified.
Fear: How very ironic. Isn’t that my job?
Me: You know, it would be nice if there were some internal part of me that wasn’t sarcastic and obnoxious.
Fear: Passive-aggressive much?
Me: You know what? Let’s start over.
Fear: You’re the one who wanted to talk.

Oof.

I did some breathing. I did some tapping on acupressure points. I pulled out my non-denominational prayer beads that are so insanely non-denominational that they have a duck on them.

And then I tried again.

Talking to my fear. Take 2.

Me: Listen, fear. I really, truly want to know whatever it is that you have to tell me.
Fear: No you don’t.
Me: I won’t criticise you. Even though it’s true that I don’t like being afraid, I’m sure you have a good reason for being here. I’d like it if you’d talk to me about it.
Fear: Do you remember … ?

What followed then was a sharp pain in my hip joint, followed by an extremely unpleasant montage of memories from junior high school.

Me: I love it. That’s where you’re taking me? I make it through poverty and divorce and a terrorist blowing up the cafe across the street … and you want me to go back to seventh grade? Do I really need to relive being terrorized by Rhonda Moore to do whatever I’m trying to do here?
Fear: Hey, you asked.
Me: What is this really about?
Fear: It’s my job to protect you. It’s my job to keep you safe. Stop trying to make me go away because I’m not going anywhere!

Talking to my fear. Take 3.

Me: So you’re here to protect me.
Fear: Uh huh.
Me: Why can’t I have other forms of protection that aren’t so … scary? I mean, uncomfortable.
Fear: That’s just how it is and it’s never going to change! Stop trying to make me change! Please?
Me: Oh, fear. I’m sorry. You must be feeling really worried that I’m going to get rid of you. It’s horrible when people want you to change. I know that.
Fear: Okay. Promise that you won’t hurt me.
Me: I won’t hurt you. Just tell me what I need to know. I’m listening.

My fear was very, very quiet. And then one word came up.

Inside of me it was dark and silent. There was only this one word.

VIGILANCE.

Vigilance.

Talking to my fear. Take 4.

Me: Tell me about vigilance.
Fear: Vigilance is the only way. You need to be kept safe. So I keep you alert and vigilant so you can protect yourself.
Me: By scaring the hell out of me.
Fear: Uh huh.
Me: I guess I can appreciate that. Kind of. I mean, what actually happens is that I get so paralyzed by the fear itself that I’m not able to be vigilant. The fear just knocks me down. So maybe not so effective. But I get how it’s supposed to work.
Fear: Vigilance!
Me: So if the purpose of me feeling this thing is vigilance and alertness … couldn’t there be another mechanism?
Fear: ??
Me: What if there are other ways to help me achieve this state of alertness that is so important because it keeps me safe? What about things like mindfulness and awareness and caution?
Fear: You would trust them to do my job?
Me: Well … what if they could do your busy work? And then you wouldn’t need to show up unless it was an absolute emergency?
Fear: Interesting ….

In which we reach a (temporary) agreement.

It took a while and some bartering but we got there.

Basically my fear told me that I have more healing to do. And I tried not to be all, Hello, if I weren’t afraid all the time I wouldn’t be so screwed up … what’s wrong with you?!

Which mostly worked.

I did get my fear to agree that I am now allowed to invoke protection in other forms.

In fact, my fear is going on a kind of a partial sabbatical. We agreed that it can still keep watch to make sure that I am being alert and aware and mindful. And … we’ll see how it goes.

I asked about what was going to happen next and my fear said I had to go do some deep work with my second chakra and then I rolled my eyes and then my fear called me a pussy.

It was delightful.

And really, that’s when everything went crazy and the seriously weird stuff started happening, but we’ll have to talk about that next time.

To Be Continued …

“Marketing” and other vomit-ey stuff

If that word makes you want to throw up, scream, or run away …

You’re in good company.

Also, I happen to think that I have some fairly useful things to say on the topic.

And if you’re actually cool with “marketing”, hang in there, because there might be something useful for you too.

A tiny bit of background?

Yesterday afternoon I was sitting at the Lucky Lab Public House with my brother and my gentleman friend.

It was my second time there. The first time being three years and one month ago. And wow. The place was exactly as I remembered it — but everything in my head was different.

Back then my brother, Selma and I didn’t have money to spare for things like … oh, food. We were couchsurfing. We were living off of bread and cheese from the supermarket.

This time I had a fantastic tomato soup. And a slice of veggie pizza. And just twenty minutes previously, I’d acquired a MacBook Air. (hooray)

Three years ago I firmly believed that marketing in all forms was evil, manipulative and gross. And at the same time, I had a business. With which I wanted to help people. So, you know, it was kind of a problem.

A most unfortunate word.

Most of us who come to business by way of wanting to save the world or do our art or bring joy to others through being all creatively self-expressive and stuff … we don’t have degrees in business.

We are what Molly Gordon calls Accidental Entrepreneurs.

Which means that our instinctive association with anything “marketing” tends to be more like this article — World’s Worst Person Decides To Go Into Marketing:

“I think it’s the career path that will best utilize my networking skills and my ability to think outside the box,” said Deenan, whose smug, gloating tone and shit-eating smile just make you want to punch his goddamn teeth in. “So I’m definitely thinking marketing. Either that, or PR.”

That still cracks me up … every single time.

An even more unfortunate paradox.

The other night at a dinner thing-ey I met a woman — super-talented artist — who literally backed away with an expression of horror when someone said the dreadful m-word.

The very thing that would help her tell me (someone who likes art and happily supports artists) more about why her stuff is unique and amazing is the thing that is most uncomfortable and unattractive to her.

Or take my starving drag king performance artist girls in Berlin. If they knew I was writing a post about “marketing” (ohmygod I’m doing it right now) they’d probably disown me.

My Berlin friends also spend an awful lot of time figuring out what to say on the hand-drawn flyers announcing their upcoming “soli” event (I think that’s called a Rent Party).

What to say. How to say it. What it should look like. Uh huh. Last I heard, there was a word for that.

So what’s a conscientious non-sleazebag business owner to do?

For one thing, don’t call it marketing!

Seriously. If it grosses you out, change the word.

Personally, I use biggification. Yes, I made it up. And it encompasses the “growing the cool thing I do so I can help people” vibe but kind of takes the piss out of it.

I didn’t invent the art of mindfully biggifying to be cute or anything. It was more that I wasn’t able to say the word “marketing” to the point that when I hired my first business coach, I had to ask him never to say it in our conversations.

He said ” … Uh, what do you want me to call it?”
And I said, “Well, I’m fond of the word ‘biggification’.”
And he said, “Alright then, let’s start biggifying!”

Don’t just change the word. Change the meaning.

This is called reframing in the coaching world, and it works amazingly well.

For example, my definition of “marketing” (what I call biggification) is this:

The art, science and process of helping your Right People a. find you, and b. feel safe saying yes to the thing you have, know or do that will make their lives better.

That’s it.

It’s helping the people you need to help. It’s helping them find you. And it’s helping them feel safe saying yes to the help.

Without this part — the “marketing” part — all you’re doing is hiding in your room wanting to help people. Your Right People are wandering around looking for you and you’re making it hard for them to receive what you have to give.

This might not be your reframe. Yours might be something else. But if you reframe it well enough, you won’t even need to change the word.

For example, my friend and colleague Mark Silver has no problem with the m-word. The way he sees it, it’s a market like a shuk is a market. Like, you go out to the market with your big straw basket over your arm to buy vegetables and sell fruit. You’re going marketing.

For him, it’s fun and playful and creative. That’s because he’s managed to reframe the word so completely that it totally works for him.

Study up on it.

Still hate “marketing”? That’s fine. Hate away. Seriously. It’s normal, it’s natural, it’s forgivable and it’s reassuringly human. I’m glad that you’re not the guy in that Onion article. Ugh.

But don’t stop with just plain old hating. Dive in to this foreign, unappealing thing. Find out what’s happening there.

Know your enemy.

Because if you do, a. you’ll be more successful than everyone else and b. you’ll realize pretty quickly that hey, it’s not the enemy.

Actually, eventually you’ll also realize that there is no enemy and that’s when your head really starts to spin. But we’ll worry about that part some other time.*

*If your curiosity just got piqued, you can peek at this post where I bring up the concept that ‘everything that is against me is an illusion

Learn from people who model what they know.

The best person I know to study biggification from is Naomi over at Itty Biz. Even though she has zero problem calling it “marketing” and as soon as she reads this she’ll probably call to tell me just to have a stiff drink and get over it.

But it will be worth it because she makes me spit juice out of my nose.

If there’s still room to get in to her Marketing 101 course which starts this Wednesday (like, the 11th which is practically now), you should do it. Even though she will say that icky, horrible word and you may have to translate it.

Also, I happen to know — because this is how good she is at biggifying — if you sign up through my blog you also get to take another class (like, for free) called Networking For Wallflowers: How To Schmooze When You Suck At Schmoozing.

Which is just for students of her M——– 101 course and which I will be taking too because, as you know, I get all weird and uncomfortable about “networking” as much as I do with “marketing”.

And … maybe also practice trusting your heart a little more.

You know what? You’re a good person. I know you are. And I know that sounds kind of trite and insincere, but really, I meant it.

Really, I’m not just saying that because you read my blog. Though maybe I am. I mean, it does speak well of you.

My point is, you’re not a sleazebag. If you were, you’d be somewhere else.

And my own experience is that the better I get at remembering that I don’t have a slimy, manipulative bone in my body, the easier it all is.

Because when you remember that … it also gets easier to trust that the tools that some people use for evil (copywriting, anyone?) can also be used consciously and intentionally with a pure heart to help people find you. To help them say yes to the amazing thing that you do.

I know you’re using your powers for good. I love that you’re using your powers for good. Still, everyone needs a little help.

And that help happens to be (however unfortunately) called “marketing”. Unless you’re me, in which case it’s called mindful biggification.

That’s it.

I still have all sorts of things to say (surprise!) about stuff related to the non-icky forms of “marketing”, biggifying and putting yourself out there just enough to help your Right People when they need you the most.

But I’ll save it.

Announcement! Class. Tuesday. My treat.

So I still can’t type am typing even less than usual, because now in addition to the carpal tunnel adventure, I have horrendously painful bruised arm muscles from the myofascial release physical therapy torture — which, by the way, is fantastic.

Except that it hurts like a ___________________ after the fact.*

*Don’t bother counting the spaces there. I have no idea how long that imaginary word is because the delete button hurts most of all. That and italicizing things. Don’t make me italicize. In fact, if you see something in italics, assume that Marissa or my Gentleman Friend did it.

Anyway.

I can’t type — but I can talk!

Teleclass. This Tuesday. It’s on me.

Every few months my duck and I do a freebie teleclass thing (which for some reason don’t seem to get mentioned in the emails people send about how dare I charge money for my life’s work) where I teach something.

And we learn together. And it doesn’t cost anything.

I call these Habits Detective classes — and they’re usually pretty entertaining.

What you need to know …

  • When: This Tuesday, February 10, 2009 at 5:30 p.m. PST
    What time is that really? You can figure that out here.
  • Cost? We covered that — there isn’t one.
  • What’s the class? We’ll be talking about how to establish new habits when you already know what you want to do but it’s just not happening yet. Obviously we’ll be doing this in a non-preachy, non-annoying way without too much hippie crap, though, you know, possibly a smidgen.
  • Phone number: (218) 936-7999
    Access Code: 974758#
  • Will there be a recording? Probably not. Since typing this is agonizing, I don’t think more work is something I need right now.
  • Anything else I should know? There are already 67 people signed up so you’ll want to call in before the line fills up.
  • Marissa (Havi’s helper) adds… You don’t have to sign up for this one. Some folks did, which is awesome! But you can absolutely join in the teleclass fun and excitement by just dialing in. No pre-sign-up necessary on this one! It’s the combination of teleclass awesomeness and a dash of impromptu join-us-ness with a splash of all-are-welcomeosity. 🙂

There might be more questions that need answering, but my arms are done for the day! Talk to you Tuesday.

xo
Havi & Selma

The Fluent Self