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.
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
Friday Check-in #27: paradox-friendly 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.
In any given week there are always a few things that fall into both the “hard” and the “good” categories at the same time.
This week it’s pretty much all of them.
I can embrace a good paradox as well as the next tree-hugging yoga teacher, but this is getting to be kind of absurd.
Oh well. It’s Friday. Let’s go.
The hard stuff
Retreating.
So as you know from last week, I went on retreat. For four days.
It was mostly fabulous but oh boy, there was plenty of hard.
Four whole days without a computer!
Four days. No internet.
Sure, I know some people take breaks from being plugged in. But only because I like to read about this phenomenon online.
And in theory I approve. But in reality?
Seriously, if you don’t count the two weeks that I was deathly ill in Berlin, it’s been about … oh, ten years since I spent that much time offline.*
It was actually much, much easier than I’d built it up to be but just the expectation of withdrawal pains was totally challenging.
*Don’t mock my addiction, please. It’s painful *and* it finances my entire life. So my terror — however unnecessary — makes perfect sense (to me, at least).
Four whole days without my gentleman friend.
Nooooooooooooo! Never doing that again. You heard it here first.
In fact, I just bought him a plane ticket to come with me to SXSW. He couldn’t care less about the conference so he’s basically going to be hanging out in Austin for the better part of a week.
But he’s coming with.*
* I feel like I need to add a “by George!” or something to that sentence, but can’t think of anything that works.
Carpal tunnel.
Ow, painful.
Ow, frustrating.
I have a ridiculously high number of things I want to say. Not being able to write them down is extremely annoying.
The good stuff
Carpal tunnel.
You would not believe how much I’m outsourcing. Stuff I should have handed off to a VA at least two years ago.
Yes, it’s annoying but it’s streamlining my business!
I’m making big, crazy changes in old systems. Big, crazy smart changes. And it’s opening up a lot of creative time for me.
To the point that I’m feeling really appreciative. And not in some phony, irritating, holier-than-thou “I appreciate hardships because they’re life lessons” sort of way.
Because that would be kind of obnoxious.
Just genuinely liking the fact that this uncomfortable situation was a big enough incentive to get me to make some hugely important changes in my business.
Four days without my gentleman friend.
No, I’m so not going to say that absence makes the heart grow fonder. This heart already is fonder.
Plus that’s a stupid thing to say.
This wasn’t really a good thing. But my understanding of just how much it’s not a good thing was really useful.
Knowing that it’s worthwhile for me to drag him along on trips and conferences arrange for him to go on holiday with me every once in a while … that’s useful too.
Four days without my computer.
This was incredible.
And that’s speaking as someone who regularly exhibits dangerous addict behavior with the internet.
Not having any idea what was happening in my email inbox was astonishingly fine. It helped that I knew Marissa was on top of things.
And she’s so great that when I came back there were only about four things she needed my input on as opposed to hundreds which would have been the case a few months ago.
Not being on Twitter was bizarre and challenging but not as excruciating as I’d built it up to be.
The elation I’m feeling is exactly the same flavor as when I realized I was finally a non-smoker. Or when I’d gone my first month without sugar (nine years ago, almost exactly) and knew I wasn’t going back.
Retreeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaat! Retreat.
Being on retreat was amazing.
Spending serious hours studying with the remarkable Paul Grilley (who is wise and patient and wonderful) … mindblowingly great.
Doing hours of yoga everyday … exactly what I needed.
Hanging out with Pace and Kyeli and their son and their cats … a treat.
Can’t wait to retreat again. I’m hoping soon.
Ez lives here! And I’m still talking about it!
It’s been a month since my kid brother moved in. And I could not be happier about it.
Having him around is so perfect. If only for the spit takes.
Also, this week we invented a new style of kung fu inspired by Bob Hope. That’s how much fun we have.
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.
A tiny but important business lesson
So I know I left us all hanging on Monday with a cliffhanger … and that a bunch of you at least six of you can’t wait to find out what happens next with the bizarre and awkward conversation between my fear, my stuck and myself.
And yet I must dangle that mildly tantalizing promise of continuation and closure in front of you for a tiny bit longer, because a weird and funny thing happened to me this weekend and I feel compelled to tell you about it.
Sunday night. 7:00 p.m.
You don’t really need any background for this story, other than the fact that I was on retreat for four days doing various yoga-related things in Austin.
It was Sunday night. I’d just come out of a six hour class. Four hours of lecture, two hours of yoga practice.
I was tired and achy. And woozy from a combination of serious information overload, meditative bliss, and not having eaten since an early breakfast.
The cab company had told me to expect about a thirty minute wait, so I took care of the food thing and the calling my gentleman friend thing … still no cab.
After forty-five minutes I called the company back. What follows is our conversation, which — while brief — is at least as fascinating as the one I had talking to a wall last week.
Listen to this.
Oh, also listen to it with the fabulous Texas drawl because it’s even better that way. On his end, not mine. Since I can’t do it.
Me: Hi! I called forty five minutes ago? I’m at _______ and ________. Still waiting on that so I thought I’d check.
The guy: Ma’am? It’s the Superbowl, ma’am. We don’t have any cabs, ma’am.
Me (in my head): ?!
The guy: Ma’am?
Me: (out loud): So … no one’s coming?
The guy: Well … it’s the Superbowl, ma’am.
Me: So … I should do something else instead of waiting here?
The guy: Yes, ma’am. That’s what I’d suggest.
That was it.
Well, then there was some hysterical laughter on my end. And then I called Pace and Kyeli and they picked me up, which was lovely of them.
I don’t really even need to pull out a lesson from this. You can pretty much choose your own.
But I will say that (as a general rule) I love interacting with entrepreneurs because you know, I am one.
I tend to identify with them way more than I should. And I’m considerably more forgiving of screw-ups. Since, you know, they happen.
This particular interaction, though … I’m still not even sure what to take from this. I mean … there’s so much in here.
Like:
- Obviously one should never go to Texas during football season. Clearly that was a horrible mistake.
- The good old “if you’ve promised something you can’t deliver, notify the person the second you realize it’s not going to happen” lesson. Which I’ve already learned. The
annoyinghard way. By making that mistake and regretting it. - Apologizing sincerely and sometimes profusely will always get you somewhere. Sigh. I know that one far too well too.
- And of course, never go up against a Sicilian when death is on the line.
Knowing what your options are and not liking them is still better than not knowing.
That and not underestimating the power of a teeny tiny little admission of suckiness … always a good thing.
The littlest “Wow, our mistake really messed things up for you … that’s got to be frustrating.”
It definitely would have made my experience slightly less surreal.
That is all.
See you guys tomorrow.