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.
I wanted to ask you something.
Actually, I wanted to ask you something and then also to tell you something, but there’s only so much one can fit into a title. Anyway, hi.
Yesterday in a gorgeous piece of coincidence, I got email from both the second-oldest Shivanaut in the world and the third-oldest Shivanaut in the world.*
*The oldest Shivanaut in the world doesn’t email or I probably would have heard from him too.
If you’re not clear on what a Shivanaut is, that’s fine because it’s another one of those words I made up.
Quick definition for the purposes of understanding this post.
A Shivanaut is someone who practices Shiva Nata — the boring answer to the “Okay, so what’s Shiva Nata?” question is that it’s a modern resuscitation of the ancient Dance of Shiva (yes, like the statues).
But what I usually say is that Shiva Nata is the bizarre and complex yoga brain training work that my duck Selma and I teach around the world — and the thing that I give credit to when people ask me things like “How come you’re so insightful?” or “How did you quit smoking?” or “So … you kind of seem to be okay with yourself even when everything is going horribly wrong … what’s up with that?”
Right. So a Shivanaut is someone who is attempting to learn this mind-altering thing.*
*And probably failing miserably at it, because really that’s the only option there is. It’s not really something you can get good at.
We’re like freaky cosmonauts. Only on the ground and funnier to look at.
Anyway …
The second oldest Shivanaut in the world is the charming Douglas Buchanan, who just turned eighty yesterday. Mazal tov.
I have mentioned Douglas and my inappropriate crush on his wise, wise self (apologies to Shirley who reads this too — I have no designs on your husband, I just adore him!) on three separate occasions on this very blog.*
* Namely:
-
1. In Turkish food and other wonderful things (which I still find hilarious).
-
2. In Friday Chicken #8: the Nick Cave edition (where you can also listen to the recording of two of my fans singing me a song about milk).
-
3. In Papa’s got a brand new bag.
And, to be honest, I have often thought that this blog would be much more entertaining if all I did was reprint our letters.
Right. So he’s eighty. And he does weight training. And Dance of Shiva, which is really challenging and not fun at all and really kind of an insane thing to do. And he reads a kajillion things a week.
As Winnie the Pooh would say, “Sing ho for Douglas! Douglas! Ho!”
That is all.
So then …
So then I got an email from Fred Brown, another favorite of mine (and the third-oldest Shivanaut in the world), who turned 72 just last month.
Fred not only practices Shiva Nata, he teaches it at the gorgeous yoga studio he owns and runs in North Carolina.
And he was wondering if I wanted to head out that way to teach a workshop and/or lead a teacher training.
Which made me wonder …
I know there are a lot of Shivanauts who read this blog.*
*Some of them also read the Shiva Nata blog and are very patient with me about the fact that I don’t update it as often as they’d like. 🙂
Actually, we’ve sold twenty-three Starter Kits in the past ten days. We’ve been shipping to Israel, Australia, Germany, The Netherlands, Scotland and Wales, as well as all over the United States and Canada.
And there are another several hundred folks who started last year. Having results like crazy.
Seriously. Epiphany central. Launching businesses. Starting blogs. Falling in love. General fabulousness.
Meanwhile … I’ve been plotting and planning a weekend in-person retreat for 2010 (here in Portland) where I would teach in-depth destuckification work and throw in Shiva Nata for some hardcore brain rewiring.
So here’s the question ….
So now I’m wondering … if we did a few days of live workshops in North Carolina this year, would any of you guys be into that?
Obviously you’re probably not going to fly in from Scotland or wherever, but East Coast-ers? Y’all in the South? Adventurous people from the Northwest who would follow me and my duck anywhere?
Weigh in please if there’s a possibility that you’d be up for that. If not, that’s cool. I really want to hear from the yes-es and the maybies though.
And the other thing I wanted to say …
Big huge thank you to everyone who showed up to help me with my hard, hard week.
Lots of you wrote sweet letters about just how much my work or my words here have helped you have amazing realizations or do amazing things in your life, and then totally made me cry.
A bunch of people sent pictures of their ducks.
A couple of you even emergency-shipped me gifts and FLOWERS and stuff. Wow. Just wow. I am the luckiest. And it’s all because of you.
Also, I went and listened to the Milk song again and it completely cheered me up. Thanks, Pace and Kyeli for being such delightful nutjobs — I love you both.
Internet hugs all around.
Friday Check-in #23: headless chicken 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.
Oy, what a week. Seriously, it mostly sucked.
Things are moving. Very quickly. It’s kind of an interesting time for me.
And by interesting I mean challenging, painful and hard.
I had so much hard that I’m not sure I even want to talk about it. But it’s Friday. So let’s do this.
The hard stuff
Having to be a momma hen on the blog.
I don’t want to be a momma hen.
But I am sometimes. And I also want my comments section to be a really safe space for the people who need that safety the most.
That means stepping in sometimes and reminding everyone how this space works. That’s what happened on Sunday. I meditated on it and it was what I felt I needed to do.
But yeah, it presses all sorts of discomfort buttons for me.
Also, once I’m in momma hen mode, I can’t really get out of it for a while. I’m all protective of everyone and there is excessive wing-flapping and feeding people.
I got triggered.
Maybe the momma hen bit was what triggered me. Maybe it was the email insanity of people raging, complaining, warning, notifying and generally expressing their pain in my direction.
Maybe it was working way, way too many hours trying to make sure the Kitchen Table was ready.
Whatever it was, I wasn’t in good shape this week. Actually, I’ve been kind of emotionally wiped out.
Everyone else was having their stuff come up and their stuff was triggering mine and … and and and.
So lots of tears. Lots of temper tantrums. Some throwing of things at walls.
And at least three times that I swore I was going to shut down the blog, move back to Israel and go back to teaching yoga. Like, today.
Luckily, the fact that there are all these amazing people waiting for me at the Kitchen Table meant I kind of had to stay. Wry smile.
Results of being triggered.
I wrote a bitchy post yesterday. I hurt people’s feelings. I thought a lot about what it was like back when I didn’t have any money at all and how helpless and horrible that feels.
I worried — a lot — that if someone says something critical to me, they could end up being that critical with other people at the Kitchen Table. And then oyvavoy, I’ll have to mediate and intervene and maybe even ask them to leave. I get protective.
Oh, what else, let’s see. I processed a lot of resentment and hurt. I read. I cried a lot. Basically this was not a fun week to be me or to be around me.
And then, on top of being triggered, there was the next point, which is not really about babies.
It’s like you’re having a baby but no one else cares.
No, I didn’t have a baby.
It’s just that launching a big, huge thing is pretty much like how I imagine it would be like if you were having a baby and everyone else is all, “Hey, you want to go have a cup of tea?”
And you say, “I can’t. I’m having a baby.” And they say, “Oh, okay. How about tomorrow?”
It’s really hard to get the damn point across about just how much time and space this new thing is taking up in my life.
Yes, I know people are waiting for me to call them back or hang out with them or answer their “Do you hate me? Do you? Please say you don’t!” emails.
Of course I don’t hate you. Of course not, sweetheart.
It’s just that I can’t do it right now. BECAUSE OF THE BABY!
Gah. Overwhelmed by the love.
We got inundated by applications to the Kitchen Table. I know, I know. This is a good thing.
It’s just that we weren’t equipped to process that many applications at once. So in addition to everything else going on, I’ve been coming up with new processing systems and bringing in (and training) new group leaders. Ow ow ow.
Petty complaints. Thousands of them.
Some people had very, very legitimate complaints this week. Some people expressed their anger and their pain and they were right to do so.
But a lot of it was really random and just kind of unnecessary.
Again, I know. It’s part of being internet famous. This week I had less patience for it than usual.
You know, I don’t write to Guy Kawasaki to tell him I don’t get what all the fuss is about.
I don’t leave comments on super-popular blogs telling them I think they’re overrated.
I’m sorry that some of you are not getting what you want here. I really, really can’t be all things to all people. Luckily, there are a gazillion and seven other blogs and maybe you’ll find another one where you feel comfortable.
*tosses computer out of window in exasperation*
Anyway. This week had a lot of pretty hellish aspects and I’m still feeling like I just need some kindness and love, so let’s move on to the good.
The good stuff
Emergency Calming Techniques.
It’s probably embarrassing that I use my own products to calm down and destuckify, but I was kind of a wreck this week. As you may have noticed.
And they really, truly helped. I listened to the audio recordings part and it made everything way, way, way less horrible. Without them, I’d probably be on a plane back to Tel Aviv.
Blogging Therapy.
The ladies from my Blogging Therapy class so completely rock.
Seeing and hearing all their inspiring successes and interesting realizations was the highlight of my week.
It is incredible what happens when kind, insightful people get together to work on their stuff. We did some neat shifting. And I completely adore them all.
Internet friends! Hooray!
On Tuesday night Selma and I had dinner with Chris Guillebeau from The Art of Non-Conformity.
We’ve been emailing back and forth for several months now, and I promised that if he made it to Portland I’d bake bread.
So I did. And my gentleman friend made foods. Foods!
And it was so great. It’s hard to find people in my line of work who really have integrity. I mean, there’s a lot of slime in the online world and it can get a bit lonely being someone who’s on a mission, you know?
Chris is such a mensch. I like him! Can you tell?
Plus, I don’t get to talk shop all that often because most of my friends don’t know (or care) about running an online business or writing a weirdly popular blog for a very specific type of person.
So that part was really great too.
Plus he agreed to teach a class at the Kitchen Table. Fun!
I know who my true fans are.
Yes, I know that not all my True Fans and Right People are joining me at the Kitchen Table.
For some of you, it’s just not the right time yet … or there are money stucknesses … or maybe it won’t ever be the right time, and that’s fine and I still love you just the same.
But a chunk of my True Fans showed up this week to try my Next Big Thing without me giving them any clear reason why they should. And that, my friends, is very, very cool.
I didn’t write copy. I didn’t sell it. I didn’t write to my list. I basically just said “Give me a few hundred dollars and we’re going to do this thing and it’s going to be great”.
And a ton of people just jumped on it. And it was so clear to me that these are my people. Not my only people. Just my people.
It was really beautiful and I’m tearing up again right now just thinking about it.
The deep trust that people have that yes, I will lead my tribe (in the Seth Godin sense) to the right place … absolutely awe-inspiring.
Ez is here.
So my brother moved in with us and it’s awesome. We’ve been collapsing in giggles, going on walks, piling chili peppers into everything and just generally having a ball.
He is so much fun. And I am so relieved and happy that he’s here.
Naomi called again.
Talking to Naomi makes me feel better about everything. Even when I’m running around like a chicken with its head cut off. Even when I’m feeling frustrated and annoyed about everything.
Even if my friends are mostly really far away, it’s still heart-warming to know that they’re there.
It’s Friday.
Deep deep breath.
It’s Friday. I’m so glad.
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.
How not to write my duck an email.
Wow.
I was so caught up in my process and feelings and stuff like that around launching and announcing At The Kitchen Table With Havi and Selma (aka my Next Big Thing), that I honestly wasn’t prepared for the flood of questions, comments and critique.
I’m still answering a lot of it, but in the meantime ….
Here’s some email writing advice.
First … a peek into my inbox.
A bunch of people wrote in saying things like this:
“Ohmygod! This seems like the most amazing thing in the entire world and if I could afford it right now I would jump on it in a second.
I’m saving pennies and the second I can make it in, I will be there with you if you and Selma will have me! But it might take a really long time!”
Those people got taken care of right away.
One of my assistants set up a special option where they could pay with six automatic monthly payments. My other assistant wrote them a sweet note. All better. Not a problem.
Another bunch of people wrote in saying things like this:
“This program is too expensive.”
And this:
“Just wanted to send you a note on my reaction to the pricing for your new community project. I am usually the first person to jump on a well-constructed useful-looking bandwagon, and financially my family is doing okay — not great, but okay. I also understand that you’re pricing access at a little more than a dollar a day; many people pay 4 or 5 times that for a daily latte, so intellectually I understand it’s an affordable rate. But I wanted to tell you that my knee-jerk reaction is that the entry price is pretty high.”
The shortest answer?
If you think this program is too expensive, it’s probably not for you.
How about the medium-to-long-ish answer?
There are so many ways that I could answer this.
And I have to admit, there’s a huge part of me that’s tempted to link to a bunch of programs that cost seven or eight times as much, have way less content and are generally less impressive in every way.
That part of me really wants to talk about what it is that makes this program more valuable than anything I’ve ever done.
But that would be taking my energy away from the true answer.
Alright. The true answer.
This program is something I put together for my Right People. For the ones who come here every single morning. The ones who re-read old posts.
The ones who are applying — or trying to — everything I teach and can’t wait to take it deeper.
The ones who get it.
Judging by the fact that I got THIRTY applications to join my expensive, hard-to-get-into program in the first few hours after I announced it, it looks like my Right People got it.
That’s resonance.
Resonance? If you’re a regular reader or a doing-a-jig fan or took the Non-Icky Self-Promotion course, you’ve probably read my post on the art and science of pricing.
That’s where I talk about the awesomeness that is Pricing Resonance, something I learned about from Mark Silver.
What this means is that for every single product or service I put out into the world, I do a deep meditation where I sit with my heart and give attention to what it is that I’m giving.
And then the Right Price emerges from that meditation. It’s the price that my heart knows is right. And the people my offering is intended for feel the resonance and they know it’s right too.
I’ve done this exercise with many, many clients and students, and even people who aren’t remotely tree-hugging yoga teachers like me have experienced — in a visceral full-body-tingle way — how resonance works.
My point: If something I’m offering is not resonant for you, either I haven’t explained it well or — more likely — you’re not the person it’s intended for.
But shouldn’t I have done a better job of explaining it?
No.
In general, yes. In general, if you want lots of people to buy your stuff, your copy has to do a pretty fantastic job of explaining the benefits and meeting objections. But this isn’t a case of me wanting lots of people.
If I haven’t thoroughly explained this offer, it’s because I don’t want to … or need to.
Now let me explain that.
I don’t want to convince you that spending time with me and my duck would be the best thing to ever happen to you. That’s why I didn’t try to write copy for this thing.
If you aren’t already getting over-the-top turning-cartwheels excited by the possibility of what could happen in a warm, cozy, structured environment where I teach everything I know, I probably don’t want you at the Table.
Convincing you would be a mistake. It would bring in people who aren’t necessarily my Right People.
It’s always about your Right People.
You know about the Thousand True Fans concept, right?
Well, like many people who are doing this running-an-online-business thing in an intelligent, measured, intentional way, I’m most interested in hanging out with them.
I’ll still be here every day, writing, being a touchstone for those who need me … but my main focus is shining a light for my Right People.
Those thirty people who showed up in the first few hours? True fans.
The ones who are saving pennies to hang out with my duck because they know that what they will learn will help them destuckify old patterns and get them to the point that they feel safe and comfortable putting their work out into the world?
True fans.
I know who they are now. And I’m planning on loving them up and treating them right.
Here’s how you know if you’re one of my Right People.
You can skip this paragraph. You probably already know.
Here’s how you know if you’re not one of my Right People.
- You’ve read my Is This You? page and don’t identify with anything I’m talking about.
- You’ve read my About page and immediately wrote to tell me that I should talk more about Jesus on my blog or that I shouldn’t joke about Pastafarianism or that I mis-spelled my least favorite word in the entire world.
- You’re someone who jumps on bandwagons.
- When you read my posts you think “Hmm, interesting” instead of wanting to laugh, cry and dance a jig because you’re so relieved that someone else is out there, working on her personal, goofball figuring-out-her-stuff process and sharing it with you in a useful way.
- The stuff I do — and what it costs — just doesn’t feel resonant to you.
- You’re someone who says “it’s too expensive” instead of “I can’t afford it” or — what I would say — “I choose not to right now because I’m making other choices.”
And you know, in your heart, that this is not your right place.
Which is absolutely fine.
It’s okay, sweetie. You don’t have to be one of Right People.
Honestly. It’s not a bad thing that you’re not one of my Right People.
It doesn’t mean that I can’t like you or that you have to stop liking me. It just means that you’re someone else’s Right Person, not mine.
Selma and I are not going to be the right fit for most people, and we know that. And if it turns out that you and I are not the right fit for each other, that’s really okay.
What have we learned today about how to write email, kids?
You tell me.
I’ll leave you with this.
It’s from one of my Right People.
I’ve had so many allergic reactions to the usual marketing approach that,
aside from feeling the need to shower in an effort to remove the sliminess, I virtually swore off of it.It honestly wasn’t until I ran into you that I had any idea that marketing could be done in an honest, clear, heart-centered way and that it was even possible to enjoy success with no sleaze factor at all.
It was one of those light-shines-down-from-the-heavens-and-the-angels-sing moments for me. Seriously.
Now I’m looking at marketing with a spirit of inquiry. I feel like an intrepid adventurer that’s just landed on the alien albeit beautiful planet called Marketopolis.
I want to study every facet of this strange creature, get to know its inner workings and take home some mysterious jewels from its soils so that I can enjoy greater success in my own work.
If you could let me know how long the wait is to work with you, I’d dig you like an old soul record.
Long Live The Duck!
That’s the kind of person Selma and I will be hanging out with at the Kitchen Table, and you know what? I seriously could not be happier about it.
Item! It’s Wednesday!
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.
Wednesday is the day I get goofy.
Actually, goofiness is a regular guest in my home on any day, but this is the day when I run around my blog and dance on tables and generally give myself permission to not be even mildly useful or entertaining, except by happy accident.
So of course it would turn out that Tuesday night the very thoughtful and inspiring Steve Spalding would write a post on his super famous blog about the blogs that inspire him.
And put me and Selma the duck up there with Seth Godin (be still, my heart) and the MIT Technology Review.
Which means a ton of people might show up today in the hopes of reading something brilliant and fascinating. But tough luck, because it’s Wednesday!
Oh well. Browse the archives, guys. I have been known on occasion to be highly informative and/or entertaining, I’m almost sure of it.
On the other hand, I’m linking to some pretty terrific reads today, so you can all go get inspired by them! Here we go.
Item! Post No. 7 in a series that doesn’t make sense even to me.
Item! My candle is better than your candle!
Or you could just curse the darkness.*
*Extra points for anyone Jewish enough to catch that reference. Whom am I misquoting?
Anyway, the lovely Char Brooks (no relation) sent me a delightful gift in the form of a gigantic white candle. I LOVE it.
It’s from the Bullfrog Light Company out in Michigan, and they put a lot of energy, effort and attention into explaining to you (in their little cards and on their website) that their candles are brighter than everyone else’s.
Of course if you’re like me, your response is … “Uh, it’s a candle. What are you talking about?”
It was only when I lit the candle that I realized oooooooohhhhh, I get it. Like, now I can just light one candle during my morning meditation instead of three.
It’s a really, really wonderfully bright candle. And the whole thing glows from the second you light it. And it’s super cheery.
But now I totally want to rewrite their web copy to explain that these bright candles are cheerier and useful-er and all around better than their regular old candle-ey counterparts. Features into benefits, people.
Anyway, despite the fact that they don’t do a very good job of convincing you, these candles are outrageously great.
P.S. Char is @CharTFirstStep on Twitter, if you want to follow her there.
Item! Auto-messages still suck!
I won’t go on my infamous “a pox on Tim Ferris for the scourge of the auto-response ‘personal’ email” rant today because that would take up the whole post.
And really, it’s not like you really need another reason why those autoresponder-ey “Sorry, I’m not reading your email” emails are stupid, evil and annoying.
But how hilarious is this?*
Thanks to Lisa for the link (if you’re like me, you probably think of her as @ZenAtPlay on Twitter)
Item! This woman is a kick in the pants!
I enjoyed the hell out of Mary’s Ray Worley’s power-to-the-people post that references my piece from way back when on the Art of the Ask. Really nice.
But other reasons why I adore her. For one thing, she’s from Madison, one of my favorite places in the States.
Also, take a look at her awesome Twitter bio and then run as fast as you can to rewrite yours:
Rabble-rousing progressive patriot, sing-along goddess, verbivore, Latina de corazón.
You already like her, right? She’s @MaryRW if you’re a Twitterite. And if not, stop trying to get me to explain it to you and just give try it for a month until you get it.
Item! The fabulousness: it is fabulous!
My work brings me into the path of some seriously kooky people, and I mean that in only the best of ways.
I could not have been more delighted to encounter Erika Harris from Life Blazing, who recently wrote a very cool post called Happy Reset Button! Where she also waxed rhapsodic about my wacky yoga brain training work.
She’s also been featured on my Shiva Nata blog, because when she does wacky yoga brain training, she does it holding Rice Krispies Treats. That’s how cool she is.
Hang out more with Erika. We like her.
Yes, she’s on Twitter too. @LifeBlazing. Get on board already.
Item! I’m not alone!
Someone else did a check-in!
Okay, so actually a lot of people are doing weekly check-ins, really really great ones. And they all say sweet things about being inspired by my Friday Chicken posts.
But this week I especially loved discovering this one from Nick Kempinski. Very real. Very sweet. If you absolutely CANNOT WAIT until Friday to read my next one, go read his!
I know you’re about to ask me if he’s on Twitter, so … yes. He’s @nkempinski.
Item! You need to do this thing!
My friend Bari Tessler from Conscious Bookkeeping is pretty awesome.
Her thing is financial therapy which basically means giving people super useful techniques and concepts for working through their money-related stucknesses, emotional and literal.
I’ve taken some of her classes and they’re absolutely terrific. There is a self-work, spiritual-ey component, but they don’t try to impose on you any sort of reality theory or try to wallop you into changing your beliefs or anything.
Very compassionate and very kind, with a huge dose of inspiration and a lot of common sense things you’d never have thought of.
Also, I had dinner with Bari in San Francisco once and boy is she ever a lot of fun.
Anyway … she’s doing a freebie teleclass on Monday, January 12th (this coming Monday) from 5:00 – 6:30 p. m. PST.
These pretty much always rock. And she’s full of integrity to the gazillionth power so, while she’ll probably talk about some of her programs as well as giving you ridiculous amounts of incredibly useful information, she doesn’t do the whole obnoxious pitch thing at all.
Here’s the phone number: 1-218-936-4700
And the password: 940061
Highly recommended. Tell Bari I say hi. Actually, tell her I said to get on Twitter. 🙂
Also, if you’re one of the people who is now hanging out at my Kitchen Table, we’re going to have our own private take-this-stuff-deeper class with Bari too.
We’re spending the next three months in the Kitchen focusing on money stucknesses in various forms and how to shift them, and Bari will be one of the scholars in residence.
Item! I have a crush on Jennifer Louden!
Okay, so this isn’t really news, but man, I love Jen.
She’s one of the rare people in the self-help world who doesn’t totally get on my nerves. She’s funny, she’s deliciously mean (sometimes), and she totally gets it.
Go hang out with Jen and enjoy this post because she says things like Uncertainty Rollercoaster. And because she once kissed Selma right on the beak. And because she’ll make you feel better.
That is all.
We are done with the goofy. No more exclamation points.
Until next Wednesday.
I’ll be here tomorrow being decidedly non-goofy. See you then!
Blogging Therapy: Worry worry worry
Wow. So this is number fourteen in a series that has grown way bigger that anything I’d planned on (the original set-up was a six-post series, feel free to laugh at me).
On the surface, we’re talking about taking the scary out of blogging, but really we’re talking about patterns and habits and the art of “working on your stuff”.
So … you really don’t have to have a blog (or even care) to pick up something useful.
And if you’d like to catch up (you don’t have to), the rest of the posts are right here:
Part 1. What if people are mean to me?
Part 2. What if I throw a party and no one shows up?
Part 3. Why even bother when there are already other people doing it better?
Part 4. What do I saaaaaaaaaaaaaaay?
Part 5. Help! Perfectionism! Gaaaaak!
Part 6. But I’m not an EXPERT!
Part 7. Don’t make me be vulnerable!
Part 8. I just don’t have the time!
Part 9. What if someone READS what I wrote?
Part 10. But I’ll never be popular!
Part 11. De-shouldifying.
Part 12. A bunch of questions.
Part 13. Finding your voice.
Four different reader questions today, each dealing with a slightly different flavor of worry, anxiety and what-iffery.
And, as always, I’ll remind you that whatever is worrying you is legitimate. Anxiety? Natural, normal and completely human. You’re allowed to have it.
Worries. Lots and lots of worries.
“How can I come up with a witty lesson every day?”
Gah! Oh no! A witty lesson every day?
Now I’m feeling anxious too!
On second thought, though, that kind of sounds like a big, horrible Should to me.
And I seem to remember someone smart (probably me) saying at some point:
“There are no shoulds in blogging!”
You definitely don’t need to post every day. And really, only about one in fourteen posts needs a witty lesson!*
*Tee hee! I just gave a witty lesson! Okay, it wasn’t really that witty. Never mind. I will now hang my head in shame.
Seriously, not every post has to teach something or make some profound point.
I tend to find the “Hi, I’m an expert and this is all I ever talk about” blogs to be pretty dull, as a rule. Sometimes you just want to hang out with someone and not have to learn Something Important.
Forget the witty lessons. Sometimes they’ll show up by themselves. But you definitely don’t have to go out and look for them.
And posting every day? Only if you’re a masochist.
Or, if you’re me. But as I say every single Tuesday, I treat blogging as … therapy you don’t have to pay for.
So yeah, I write five or six posts a week. But that’s because the process of writing stuff down is good for my soul. Don’t use me as an example for anything!
“What if whatever I say is useless and unentertaining, and nobody reads it?”
Okay, I’m taking this as a two-part question. Because what if it’s useless and unentertaining is actually completely unconnected to what if nobody reads it.
Well … what if it is useless and unentertaining? Let’s pretend it is. What does that have to do with anything? There’s lots of useless, unentertaining crap out there that is beloved by millions.
Some of the most popular blogs that I know of bore me senseless.
Some of the most popular Twitter users I — personally — find to be bland, tiresome and yawn-worthy in every way. And don’t even get me started on music, television shows, film …
Anyway, it’s all a matter of taste. Which, I’m told, varies. Plenty of people find my stuff useless and unentertaining too, and that’s fine. Not my right people.
Lots of people happen to like useless, unentertaining, time-wasting irrelevance. If your stuff is that bad (or even just mediocre) too, you’ll do just fine. I’m not worried about you at all!
What if nobody reads it, though? That’s a different question.
There are close to a billion and a half internet users in the world. All you need is a teeny, tiny percentage of a percentage of them to find you and dig your useless, unentertaining style, and you’ll be fine.
Getting people to read is not about being interesting. It’s about strategy.
Are you on Twitter? Do you comment on other people’s blogs? Do you know of other places online where people write useless, unentertaining things in a similar vein to yours?
Maybe their followers are dying for some more useless, unentertaining writing that’s similar to what they already like. That’s where you come in!
And yes, best way to get people to read your blog is to be on Twitter. I try to say something useless and unentertaining there at least ten times a day.
“What if I don’t have an entertaining little voice that gives me the cute ‘come-hither’ wink?”
Okay, I’ll skip the “you don’t have to be entertaining” thing, since we’ve just covered that.
But yes, what if your voice doesn’t give you the cute come-hither wink? This is, I believe, a variation on writer’s block.
Which is almost always about fear, transition and internal conflict.
At the deepest level, though, it’s really about trust. About not trusting your voice. I wrote last week about finding your voice and why you don’t have to. Still good advice.
Anyway, I’d treat this like any other form of stuckness.
Give yourself permission to be where you are.
This is where I am right now … in this moment … not being winked at. Even though I’d love my perfect entertaining little voice to whistle at me lasciviously every single time I prance by, it’s not happening right now and baby, that’s how it is.
Then go be in your body. Take a walk. Dance around the room. Do five minutes of Shiva Nata to stimulate some new neural connections and launch an epiphany or two.
And then talk to your Shoulds again and tell them that yet again, they just aren’t helping. Even though they want to keep you safe so you won’t get disappointed, hurt or laughed off the internet, they’re actually keeping you paralyzed by fear.
And when you’re paralyzed by fear, you can’t do what you need to do to feel safe, supported and loved. So ask yourself for permission to take some steps to help yourself feel safe, supported and loved.
Because otherwise, what’s the point?
“What if I hate what I write?”
Hmm. That could happen.
You kind of can’t know until you try, right? Maybe you will hate some of it.
Nothing wrong with that. I mean, it’s not fun. But pretty normal. Happens to the best of us. And you’re allowed to hate it.
I often hate stuff I write. Usually I let it sit for a few days. And by then I’ve usually figured out what’s going on with the hate.
Sometimes it’s that I’m feeling too vulnerable. Other times it’s because I’m trying to make too many points at once and I’ve gotten myself all mixed up.
So then I have Selma read it, which doesn’t help because she likes everything.
And I have my gentleman friend read it, which does help because he usually points out that if I just delete a couple of meandering paragraphs, it turns out that it’s actually pretty good.
But my guess is that this isn’t really what’s worrying you.
To me it sounds like you’re feeling anxious that some of your old, stuck, fear-of-success patterns of “what if I do X and I still don’t like myself” will show up.
And they might. Because blogging is a reflection of the self-work process. Your stuff will come up.
The good part is that writing is healing. Which means that the very act of documenting and interacting with this process will help you learn from that stuff.
And learning from said stuff is way more useful than having it just become another reminder of how miserable everything is right now.
So I’d say, take your time with it. Remind yourself that you don’t need to publish everything. You can let stuff sit and percolate.
Blogging doesn’t have to become another place where you castigate yourself for being you. But yeah, when we’re not careful, sometimes it happens. And then you catch yourself.
And you give yourself some attention. And some love, if you can stand to have some.
That’s it for now!
I was going to wrap this up with some possibly-wise words about meeting the fear and allowing yourself to feel what you’re feeling and so on. But you guys are bright enough to connect the dots so I’ll refrain.
Tomorrow (gott sei dank) is Wednesday, which means some goofiness. And Thursday Selma and I will be answering a flood of questions about At The Kitchen Table.
And yeah, more Blogging Therapy next week. Because there’s a lot of it. Internet hug to you, in the meantime.