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.
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.
Changes afoot (yes, afoot!) at The Fluent Self
Big, crazy changes. Afoot.
Every once in a while I get hit by a wild and reckless burst of inspiration and come to the conclusion that — hey, what the heck — wouldn’t it be fun to totally restructure my entire business?
I honestly don’t know where I get the “fun” part, because it seriously almost never is. But, you know me, taking apart the old to make room for the new is kind of my thing.
Me and Shiva, god of destruction deconstruction. We’re like this.
Anyway …
Anyway, what’s really fun (by which I mean terrifying) is when I come up with something that goes way, way against the grain of all the stuff my old business mentor used to say, and also against a lot of the conventional wisdom that I’ve run into in the … well, conventional circles that I travel in.
Right. That would be why it’s called conventional wisdom. Which might go some way towards explaining why it bores the hell out of me.
Point being, I can tell by the way I feel both gleefully excited and shaking-in-my-boots scared at exactly the same time, that my wacky plan is absolutely the right thing to do.
So here’s what I’ve been processing for the past several months.
The plan.
I’m dropping most of my clients.*
*No, no, not YOU! If we already have sessions set up and you haven’t heard anything from me, then we’re fine. Promise. This isn’t a Dear John post or anything. That would just be mean.
Also, I’ve totally done away with my six month one-on-one coaching program.
And both of my three month group training programs.
All gone.
What I’m doing instead, now that I’ve (ahem) thoroughly scrapped all my primary sources of income, is following my heart.
Which means — as it turns out — devoting my energy to building a safe place where the people I love can go to work on their stuff, get support and encouragement, and practice getting better at the things I teach here.
Which has grown into this new Next Big Thing I’ve been talking about.
A fun, safe, cozy, supportive online biggification community.
It’s for my people. And for me and my duck.
Yes, it has a name now …
At The Kitchen Table With Havi & Selma.
And this is where I’ll be hanging out now when I’m not here.
Anyone who applies and gets in will get the chance to work with me and a bunch of other smart, creative, slightly oddball people on getting destuckified and putting their cool thing out there to the world.
I’ll be teaching oh, everything I know about biggified stuff like non-icky marketing, copywriting, making monies and so on (but in the most accessible, not-scary way possible) and also about this whole self-work “taking apart your habits to build better ones” thing that we do here.
And there will be a generous, loving canopy of peace for you to come in under and hide out with me. And with my duck, of course.
And that’s pretty much it.
A few people will still get to work with me one-on-one in 2009 … I’ll make a small number of six-session packages available (as an extra-help option) to those of you who are Kitchening it up with me.
Theoretically, you’ll also still be able to grab a one-off consultation with me if you aren’t at the Kitchen Table and you absolutely insist on it, but you really shouldn’t — my hourly rate is going up to $375.
And if that doesn’t cut down the two-month waiting list, I’ll just have to re-think things again.
As far as I’m concerned, this coming year for me is all about 1. taking care of myself and resting up, and 2. coming out with some fantastic — and possibly slightly bizarre — new products and mini-courses, which the people in the Kitchen Table are going to test-drive for me.
You can peek at the pretty, pretty facade if you like …
Or you can go straight to the “hey, here’s where you sign up” page, if you’re interested.
And of course, I’ll still be here!
If you’re not into the whole Kitchen Table thing, we’ll keep hanging out here and that will be awesome. In fact, I’ll actually probably be here even more, since several more hours will be magically added to my day.
So all in all — it’s pretty much good news for everyone.
And if you’re looking for me the rest of the time, I’ll be in the Kitchen. At the table.*
*Maybe you’ll be there too! I’ll make you a snack! And either way, I’ll be right here tomorrow for the next installment of Blogging Therapy. See you then.
Regret. And some patterns. And decisions.
Friday afternoon I was getting poked full of delicious needles by my wonderful, witchy acupuncturist.
And between the resulting blissfully doped-out state and a brain-scramblingly fantastic Shiva Nata practice a bit earlier to shake up some old, stuck patterns … well, I found myself in a pretty deep meditative zone.
So. Here’s what I experienced.
I was deep inside my body in an enormous room, and everywhere there were layers of some gauzy dirty-pink material.
It was like cotton batting. Or a thinner version of that fiberglass insulation stuff they use in building houses.
I knew instantly what it was.
It was regret.
Insulation made of regret?
Yes. Sort of.
I asked some questions. The regret was old and a bit bedraggled. There wasn’t any sadness left in it.
It was more like … a shadow of regret. A casing that had once enclosed sadness but didn’t anymore.
Okay. So I poked around a bit more. I asked things like “What does this regret need from me right now?” and “What happens now?” and “What is the kindest, most compassionate thing for me?” and “What do I need?”
And what emerged was that this regret was ready to leave and it was asking me to take it down. So I started gently untangling and unwinding, and whenever my arms filled up with a serious pile, it disappeared.
As I worked, I asked more questions, trying to learn more about where the regret came from, what purpose it served, if there was anything else I needed to know.
I was especially curious because, generally speaking, I don’t tend to think of myself as someone who has a lot of regrets, or any, really.
Fear, anger, guilt, sadness, resentment, sure. I work with and through these emotions all the time.
But regret? Not really. Not lately. I’ve spent so much time making peace with things, reminding myself that at any given moment I was doing the best I could with the tools I had available at that time. This felt like new territory for me.
This was regret that was no longer alive.
This regret didn’t have any emotional charge to it anymore.
Nor did there seem to be any specific memories attached to it. It was empty, spent.
As if it was the wrappings from various things I’ve discarded or cleared over the past few years.
And oh boy, was there a lot of it.
So I made my peace with the idea that I wasn’t going to be able to get a clear read on what this regret was about or where it had come from, and I was just helping it go where it needed to go.
You know what happened then?
As I peeled and unraveled the soft, dirty-pink layers of regret, I discovered that there were tall wooden poles holding it all up.
Unlike the regret, which wanted nothing more than to be allowed to leave, these poles weren’t going anywhere.
I stood looking up at them, at the beautiful wood, at their firm, confident stance.
And I asked, “What are you?”
Instantly, the phrase that came into my head was “U’fros aleynu sukkat shlomecha“, which is a line from the Hebrew prayer Hashkiveinu from the Friday evening service.
Spread over us your canopy of peace.
These wooden poles were — apparently, weirdly — the structure for my own, personal canopy of peace. They were supposed to be there.
So I started strolling down this long corridor (or maybe it was a path), flanked by my wooden poles, and sheltered by my new canopy of peace.
Remembering.
Being under the canopy reminded me of a lot of things at once.
It reminded me of walking down the Karl-Marx Allee in East Berlin in the middle of the night — dark happy trees on each side, their branches leafing out above me.
The same street during the day when there’s so much green there you can hardly see anything but leaves.
And it reminded me of a wedding canopy with no one under it.
This made me think of the deep, complicated, loving, challenging relationship that I have with myself.
And the commitments I make to myself to keep getting better at learning how to give myself love, and stuff like that.
It reminded me of forests. It was lovely. I was very happy under my canopy of peace.
And (finally) getting to the part that has to do with you.
Of course — and forgive me, because I’m about to say something that sounds seriously cheesy but is very earnest — I completely see my business as a canopy of peace.
The whole reason I do this thing — the blog, the consulting, the writing — is that I want to have a safe, cozy, comfortable place where my Right People can show up as they are, with all their stuff and their stucknesses, and feel safe, supported and loved.
Where I can show up with my stuff and my stucknesses, and feel safe, supported and loved.
And I have that. Which is ridiculously awesome, and something I wish for you too, if you want it.
What I realized though, while walking beneath my canopy, was that I don’t always share with you that much of my own process.
Sorry, I just said process. You know what I mean. How I get there. How I work through things. How I stumble and what happens then.
Indirectly, sure. I hint at it and refer to it. But you don’t often get to see what I do when I’m working through the things that I find challenging. And yeah, I find all sorts of things challenging.
So one of my intentions for this new year is to spend more of my time here doing that. Not just symbolically modeling how I do stuff, but letting you peek into the experience itself.
One more thing.
There are some big crazy changes happening inside of my business right now.
And I imagine that I’ll end up talking about them …. oh, a lot. At least over the next few weeks.
My big hope is that I’ll be able to talk about them in a way that’s honest and kind and useful.
That those of you who have businesses of your own will be able to use some of the stuff that I’ve gone through in my own (I’ll say it again) process.
And that you’ll have a little more perspective on how I do things, and why I do them in the way that I do them. And that this will be helpful for you.
That is all.
Glad you’re here. Wishing you good things. See you tomorrow …
Also, let me add that this Wednesday is Jen Hofmann’s wonderful “take two hours to get some peace of mind and much needed perspective while working through piles and stucknesses in your home office” thing.
I’m hopelessly addicted to taking this class and I wait for it the whole month.
You’re doing it with me, right?
Friday Check-in #22: the ducktastic 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.
So I know we just checked in day before yesterday, but that was all about New Year’s. Now we’re back to the weekly check-in.
Chicken!
The hard stuff
Schleepy.
So ever since I quit working nights all those years ago (okay, not that many years ago), my body announced that it wasn’t going to stay up past 10:00 p.m. ever again.
It was a classic “Because I can! Ha ha!” kind of move. And most of the time it’s not an issue.
But last night we went to pick up Ez at the airport and didn’t get home until midnight and didn’t get to bed until one.
And I’m totally in dysfunctional mouse mode*, for the record.
*“Dysfuctional mouse” — as in, a variation on helper mouse. I didn’t mean to imply that dysfunctional in a computer mouse sense, though yeah, probably that too.
So much for big plans.
With everyone away on holiday vacation and such, I had big crazy plans to get lots of stuff done.
And yeah, stuff. And a lot of it did get done.
But it wasn’t quiet. It was way hectic and I don’t really want to talk about it but there was just a lot going on, and a lot of work pouring in that I didn’t have patience for.
CrankyPants McGrumbleBug strikes again!
I’ve been feeling kind of generally crabby and impatient lately, to be honest. Maybe it’s the rain.
Maybe it’s all the big changes in my business and getting used to all the new things that are happening or in the process of happening.
Maybe it’s because I haven’t seen my acupuncturist in three weeks.
Maybe it’s that I get a gazillion and ten emails a day.
Or that way too many of them involve someone being annoyed because something I said offended them.*
*Uh, guys. Last I heard, there was no shortage of blogs in the world. So … instead of trying to convince me to change my style, wouldn’t it be easier to find someone whose sense of humor doesn’t step on your toes?
And then, of course — despite what I just said in that last little aside — I still for some reason cannot not answer these emails.**
**Because being a yogi sucks. I can’t help it. I always end up truly wanting to compassionately engage with everyone who is feeling hurt because of something I said.
And then I take half an hour to meditate on it and half an hour to compose an email, and if I get ten letters a week like this, that’s my whole week right there. Yes, I know.
But is any of that why I’m grumble-bugging? Who knows. It might not even be any of that.
Just. Not. In. The. Mood.
It happens.
The rest of the hard is all stuff I wrote about on Wednesday, so let’s move on to the good.
The good stuff
New Year’s.
As predicted in the bible on Wednesday, I did win at Boggle.
There was good food (spicy cauliflower-potato magic and home-made yogurt) because my gentleman friend is a mad genius in the kitchen.
And … yes, I fell asleep before ten, but it does seem that the transition to 2009 went okay without me so no worries there.
Also, I must point out the extreme irony that — despite it being our anniversary and all the romantic gooey-ness that goes along with that — both of us managed to miss the word “love” in the final round of Boggle.
Cheese!
Not that I don’t love the gorgeous cashmere sweater my gentleman friend got me because I do, but the highlight of the whole anniversary-new-year’s-day thing … this crazy awesome cheese.
Willamette Farmstead Wine Pomace Gouda.
It was purple. Well, purple-ish. And outrageously great.
I am very enthusiastic about cheese, so let’s say it again. Cheese!
I bought myself a desk.
Those of you who know me are saying, “But you HATE desks. With a passion. Who are you?”
Yes, well.
It’s actually a chaise lounge. But I’m calling it a desk.
Because it’s where I work.
And it’s the nicest desk I’ve ever had. Also the most expensive. Also it kind of ties the room together.
And now my brother has a place to sleep (my old desk, aka the purple couch) until his bed arrives.
Ez moved in.
Wheeeeeeeee!
Our alternative family just gets more fun by the day. Me, my gentleman friend, my duck Selma and now my brother.
This is so, so, so great. Expect him to show up here kind of a lot, because he’s pretty much my favorite person ever.
The New York Freaking Times, baby.
So my duck had her picture in the front page of the Thursday Style section of the New York Times yesterday.
Well, second page if you’re reading it online. First page in the print edition.
Also, I was quoted. But Selma was in the headline.
She’s pretty darned pleased with herself, as you might imagine, and I’m basically never going to hear the end of this.
After the famously disastrous Welt am Sonntag piece where she was barely mentioned and it was mostly about me, there were a lot of ruffled little diva duck feathers around here, let me tell you.
Anyway, it’s a thoughtful, interesting piece by Abby Ellin in the Times, and worth a read even if you’re not at all interested in things yoga-related.
I also posted about this on the Shivanaut blog, if you’d like to read a bit more about the rejoicing, the madness and the stuff I do when I’m not here. Oh, and while you’re there?
You can also read about my crazy students and the weird things they do with Rice Krispies treats.
My parents. They might plotz.
So back to that article in the New York Freaking Times for a second.
My parents are pretty vague on what I do for a living, and “internet famous” is kind of a nebulous concept anyway when you’re the kind of person who thinks of the internet as an especially fast version of the Yellow Pages.
But they read the New York Times oh, every single morning. As does everyone they know.
So they were very, very impressed. Which was cool because most of the things I get excited about are things they can’t really understand, so it’s all kind of the same level of “that’s nice, dear.”
Not that they’re not happy for me, just that it’s all kind of insubstantial somehow because they have no context.
So this was pretty entertaining. And really sweet.
Naomi called.
What can I say. My life is just less fun and there is considerably less madcap goofiness when Naomi isn’t around.
She called from England this morning and totally made my week. Everything is better now.
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.