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Here we are. 322 consecutive weeks of wishing. Welcome. ♡

Something different.

I have many wishes, bubbling up and away, red balloon wishes.

Over the past few days, I have been watching and waiting, trying to feel into which one I want to write about. And what I received is that I actually want to write about how last week’s wishes have been going.

Not a two-sentence summary of last week’s wish at the end of this week’s, like I usually do. Not a separate follow-up post.

I want — and I don’t know why I want this, but I need to trust it — I want to share with you some of what I have noticed and experienced over this past week since wishing the last wishes.

And I guess through that process the new wish will emerge?

Or maybe it won’t, and for whatever reason, this is the seed-form my wishing wants to take this week. It is planting itself through this process of Noticing the Noticings, and sharing them with you.

This feels weird and new and different, but when I turn inward and ask what I want to write about, that’s what is there.

And since we just exited the month of Trust More, I am going to do just that.

I actually wrote two wishes last week…

I posted my wish about Luscious Minimalism, and I also wrote about the thing I don’t want to let go of, which is actually a wish about ease of releasing.

This is funny and perfect, because this Shmita year is the Year of Easing & Releasing, and somehow I didn’t even make the connection.

Anyway.

Both of these wishes have been my quiet accompaniment to this week, setting off chain reactions of tiny sparks of light in all the dark corners, letting me see things I couldn’t see before, helping me release things I couldn’t release before.

And this is my review of that, and the week that was. Or, as I like to call it, my Revue!

I did very little, because I was sick.

So that was a completely unanticipated form of Luscious Minimalism right there.

I had been thinking about my wish in terms of space: the feelings and sensations I want in both my physical and emotional space. Reducing possessions, in order to revel in being surrounded by only those I absolutely cherish.

Possibly also lovingly disconnecting from other things that are not luscious: habits, patterns, people, assumptions, choices.

But I hadn’t thought in terms of doing less.

All I did this week was lounge around in bed, pet my sweet body with love and kiss it better, and write. The best.

A secret hidden meaning of Operation Luscious Minimalism was apparently “do the most minimal amount of exertion, while being luscious!” This makes me laugh.

I lounged.

I mean, I lounged in style, like I never have before.

I lit candles and wore impossibly extravagant special-occasion underthings and the fluffiest cloud of a robe — even though my lover is far away and my entire plans for this week involved sitting in bed being a Mighty Mighty Snot Machine while feeling sorry for myself.

I drank water from the fanciest wine glass, with a perfect circle slice of lemon snug against the rim, just because.

And massaged my temples with tiger balm from the prettiest jar, while listening to a playlist of songs chosen by Incoming Me for this quarter.

All in all, I did very, very little, but did it with panache. And it was sweet and beautiful and alive with meaning.

I treasured things.

Everything seemed so beautiful this week.

I picked up the pitcher from the dining room table, and marveled over it for the longest time.

The still-fragrant lavender that my friend Luke the Noir Gunslinger brought as a gift over a year ago, the luminous blue-green ceramic pitcher that I bought on New Year’s Eve from a local potter seven years ago, right after we moved into this house, not long after I wrote the wish that brought me both my beautiful home and this beautiful weekly practice of wishing.

The pitcher-lavender combination was suddenly so enthralling to me, I moved it into the kitchen where I spend more time, to enjoy it more fully.

I admired the long elegant line of a spoon. I touched the leaves of my plants, and may have even kissed them when the neighbors weren’t watching…

I glowed with love while sitting in the wooden rocking chair that my uncle went to great lengths to acquire from the other side of the country, just for me, because he wanted me to have one of his favorite things.

I let go of things.

Because anything that doesn’t give me that kind of thrill really doesn’t need to be in my space.

Marie (Kondo) says something wildly mystical that I missed in the first reading, about how the things you own want you to be happy.

More than that. They want you to feel like you are in love. So if you aren’t tingly, blissfully in love when you touch them and see them, then be kind to them and to you, and let them go make someone else that happy, or return to you with that same loving energy but in a new and better form. That’s what she says.

It’s a wondrous and terrifying thought: will I have to let go of everything? Not at all, just the things that obstruct my ability to feel the wonder of the pitcher, the magnificence of the lavender.

Marie is a greatly misunderstood Luscious Minimalist, I think. Her work isn’t actually about tidying and decluttering at all.

It is about becoming someone who glows with love, who consciously chooses to glow with love, and to let your environment support this. And it is about the deepest forms of listening.

I let go of so many things that my space transformed.

My bedroom now feels sparkly and magical, like the playground.

It hums from all the time I’ve spent luscious-ing it up in bed all week! And from all the things I let go of, with love, so that they can go love someone else.

My bedroom is purring like a happy cat right now.

And once that happened, the purr-hum spread to the hallway, and the living room, and this morning I felt it entering the kitchen too…

My uncle came to stay with me for three days.

Long-time readers of this blog know that Svevo is one of my very favorite people in the world, and the person I most admire and wish to emulate.

He is the only person I know who lives exactly how he wants, in all things, and he does this despite not having great means.

If he wants three naps between breakfast and lunch, he will do that, and be completely happy about it, and not say any of the things people usually say like “I don’t know why I’m so tired”. He just follows his body.

If you visit his home, you will not be the least surprised to find that his bed is in his living room, because he felt like that was where he would probably want to sleep.

When Svevo comes to visit, I get to study him. This time I was able to notice all the beauty — and Luscious Minimalism — in delighting in what you have.

Svevo is very into purple lately, and he was wearing a purple sweater under a dark burgundy sweater-jacket, both of which he had picked up at a thrift store and already worn holes into. And he was as happy as a small child with a new toy. The color was filling him up with joy.

Horses.

My housemate and I have been watching Wallander. The BBC series with Kenneth Branagh as the most morose detective, not the Swedish version, though I would like to see that as well.

There was a horse in the last episode, an absolutely stunning horse, and two things struck me at once:

• Horses are so majestic and powerful and present.
• Horses eat carrots, and if carrots are the stand-in for the thing I don’t want to let go of, I can let go by letting the horses have them.

And, something else about that. Horses can be very sweet, and also very strong, sovereign, imposing even. Horses stand in their strength, which was my wish from two weeks ago.

I want these horse-like superpowers! Actually, I think that is my wish.

Mirror.

Svevo and my wonderful cousin Noah and I went to a nearby bakery. It was my one Excursion out of the house, and I put on clothes and everything.

The bakery was very full and we had to sit at the bar area, which sits up right against a mirror, so you are looking right at yourself from only a few inches away.

I have been sick and not sleeping and being a Mighty Mighty Snot Machine, so whatever, grain of salt here, but I looked like death warmed over. And never in my entire life have I more wanted to transform my appearance to reflect my true glow.

What came into my head at the time was that all my wonderful edges have somehow gotten lost, as if I have settled for Boring Safe Pretty instead of allowing the chaotic mystery of me to be visible in my appearance. I wanted my edginess back.

But what I’m realizing now is that I want horse-essence: that kind of sleek, powerful, big presence that is beautiful because it is so very alive, so very there.

That slightly dangerous “don’t fuck with me” grace, that ease of movement, that ability to rear up in the moonlight and be intensely unpredictably alive. I want that.

And I want that in how I look, and I want that in my bedroom, and I want that in my dance, and I want that in my wishes.

There. That’s my wish.

It was here all along and I didn’t know it.

May it be so.

Anything else about this?

I love how surprised I am that wise-me was right, and that following my instinct on this post was right, when of course she was and of course it is.

Invitation.

You are invited to share many !!!!!! about my wishes and realizations here, to share anything sparked for you while reading, to say “oh wow, what beautiful wishes” to me and to each other, to wish your own wishes.

I will also take all forms of EXCITEMENT and GLADNESS for this particular wish, and also clues if you have any, or good wishes if you don’t!

Now.

I have a piece of embroidery that my mother made. I took it when her sister and I were going through her things after she died. My aunt kept trying to get me to take more things to remember her by, and I didn’t want anything except for this.

My mother would be delighted that I wanted it, and also she would kill me if she knew that I framed it. She would say that it’s a practice piece and not any good, and that if I want a framed piece, I should take this other one instead which is better, etc. I don’t care.

I love it.

It is gold and red and orange thread on a dark blue cloth background, and it is a very self-contained shape that is somehow mandala and sun and compass and labyrinth all at the same time.

It is minimal and it is luscious, and it feels protective and special, and I chose well.

The superpower of Fearless Intentional Choosing.

August was TRUST MORE, with the superpower of Wildly Confident, Wonderfully Tranquil.

Now I am ready to Stand In My Strength more, and September comes in with the marvelous superpower of Fearless Intentional Choosing.

And this is what I did all week as I cherished some things through releasing them, and cherished other things through keeping them and appreciating them.

Progress report on past Very Personal Ads.

So. Last week aka Luscious Minimalism…

I am getting better at trusting that my wishes go so much deeper than I could ever imagine, that they are glowing seeds of light.

My wish was about sanctuary and about glowing, and about choosing what gets to be in my environment, in all meanings of that. I feel deeply, intensely grateful right now for this wish.

Thank you, process of writing about wishes. Thank you, me who asked.

Keep me company! Or just say hi!

You can deposit wishes, gwishes, personal ads, superpowers, qualities, seeds, secret agent code, whatever you’d like, there’s no right way! Updates on past experiments are welcome too, as is sharing anything sparked for you.

Comment culture: This is safe space for creative exploration. We are on vacation from care-taking and advice-giving. We are here to play and throw things in the pot! With amnesty. Leave a wish any time you want.

Here’s how we meet each other’s wishes: Oh, wow. What beautiful wishes.

xox

Goldenrod.

Making my way through a giant box of unsorted bits and pieces from the center I closed this year, I found a piece of paper.

Well, I found what seemed like thousands of pieces of paper, but this one was more attention-getting than the others.

This page was large and goldenrod yellow, and it told me I need to write about the the thing I don’t want to let go of.

That’s literally what it said.

In my handwriting:

Write about the thing you don’t want to let go of.

And then, in smaller letters: on the blog

There’s no date.

Apparently past-me thought the instructions contained sufficient intel.

I don’t remember what particular thing-I-didn’t-want-to-let-go-of I had in mind though.

No idea. Not that it matters. It’s a good question that is always in fashion. Timeless.

Whoosh. Goodbye. Releasing.

During my five year tenure of play at The Playground, I let go of many things. In fact, that magical wonder of a space facilitated all kinds of releasing.

It even came with a secret elevator shaft which we used specifically for that purpose. Whoosh!

Energetically/symbolically, of course, not literally. The door was sealed off, though the stunning old-fashioned bell still worked on occasion.

It said BELL on it. It was perfect. I miss the Playground.

And here we are.

Here we are in the Year of Easing & Releasing, my Shmita year.

Over the past several months, I have let go of more than I ever thought possible. Sometimes beautiful and painful shedding, sometimes release like liberation.

Write about the thing you don’t want to let go of.

It’s a great sentence.

And I don’t know that I don’t know what it is I don’t want to let go.

I mean, I bet I do know. At the very least, I suspect many things, and probably more that I’m intentionally hiding from myself because it feels safer to convince myself that I don’t know.

If this year of Operation True Yes has taught me anything, it’s that I generally know a lot more about most internal mysteries than I’m comfortable admitting.

For whatever reason though, I’m not entirely ready to process this question yet. Which is okay. All hesitation is legitimate. And the way we play here — always — is Safety First.

We are here to heal pain, with acknowledgment, legitimacy, appreciation, love, creativity and play. Not to poke at it or force anything.

I’m going to try two things.

The first is that I’m going to proxy this!

I’m going to pretend that [the thing I don’t want to let go of] is carrots, since that’s the first thing that came into my head.

That way, I can ask the question like this:

What do I know about these carrots that I don’t want to let go of?

I can also ask related questions like…

• What happens when the carrots exit?
• What are some things that have helped me let go of carrots in the past?
• What changes (or in what ways do I change) when I become the person who lets go of carrots?

And the other thing?

Company. I’m inviting you to play with me here.

I’m leaving the question from past-me here for all of us to play with for ourselves.

Kind of like what some people call a writing prompt and I call skipping stones.*

You can write about a stand-in thing (like carrots, except whatever comes up for you), and you don’t even have to know what you don’t want to let go of, though you might. Assume/pretend you don’t know, and just focus on [carrots] or whatever your version of [carrots] is.

And I whisper a secret here…

The most important question here is not “What is the thing I don’t want to let go of?”, and it’s not even “What do I know about the thing I don’t want to let go of?”.

It’s this:

How can I approach this with kindness and permission, acknowledgment and legitimacy, presence and love?

Approach is everything. We come to these questions with curiosity and affection, and we also are committed to making sure we feel safe.

Play with me? And helpful notes on commenting/process.

There is a reason introspection is hard! It means looking at what is, which also involves separating from what isn’t.

This means that as we turn inward, we often encounter monsters and Ludicrous Fear Popcorn, and all our misperceptions and misinterpretations. No wonder people avoid it like the plague.

And now you also know why I put so much emphasis on playfulness, and safety, and playing at the edges.

As for releasing, well, probably nothing is more fraught than that.

For very reasonable reasons.

We remember that we all have our stuff. We meet ourselves and each other with as much love and understanding as we can muster. We lovingly refrain from giving advice! We are here to play, and whoosh sparklepoints with each other.

So feel welcome to take some breaths or play with a question or share anything sparked for you, or express appreciation/sparklepoints, or deposit a pebble of “I read this and I am here!”

My thank you heart is full of love and appreciation for everyone who reads. You are an important part of this space. ♡

It is Friday Saturday and we are here.

{a breath for being here when we get here.}

Thank you, week.

This is the 370th week in a row that we are chickening here together. Pretty great.

What worked this week?

Permission.

I spend a lot of time this week following rabbit holes, as I felt drawn to them, and noticing clues.

I think it’s very easy for mindfulness people to say things like “oh, slow down, be receptive to noticing”, and sure, that’s wise and whatever, but it’s pretty hard to actually remember this with all the pressing items that need constant attention.

This week I gave myself the biggest permission slip to just follow trails wherever they went, to observe and listen, and I received marvelous intel.

Next time I might…

Remember that someone else has probably already solved this.

Did a lot of unnecessary things related to wheels this week — both grinding mine, and trying to re-invent them.

Turns out that all the mysteries I was trying to solve already have simple, easy solutions, and the best thing to do in this case is to ask someone who has already encountered this problem, because they probably know the solution.

And the title of my upcoming Biopic if it were based on this week…

Maybe I’ll move to Honeyville and open an Apothecary/Pie Salon. The Havi Brooks Story.

Eight breaths for the hard, challenging and mysterious.

1. The number of situations that are currently requiring me to Stand In My Strength. Good grief. A breath for big feelings, and how challenging this is.
2. My lover left yesterday morning for two and a half weeks in Utah. That’s a very long time, and I am feeling the dull ache of the kind of pain that announces itself slowly. A breath for longing.
3. Went to a dance workshop with a professional dancer whom I am very fond of, and the entire evening was a complete nightmare. I don’t want to describe it other than to say that there was (probably unintentional but horrible) Unwanted Touching, and I ended up skipping the dance and crying in the lobby until my lover could pick me up. A breath for wanting something to be beautiful and amazing, and instead finding it traumatizing.
4. Trying to change the culture of dance. Definitely not the easiest thing I’ve ever done. And also I’m just feeling frustrated and resentful about the amount of time and energy that goes into reaching out, reporting things, advocating for safety, asking for support, saying what is needed. A breath for radiantly powerful boundaries!
5. Body freaking out from perceptions of Not Safe, with everything from weird skin stuff to neck aches to migraines to some sort of flu that knocked me off my feet. A breath for my sweet, kind, well-intentioned body who likes to share loudly with me when boundaries have been crossed. I know, babe. I know. And another healing breath for what a friend calls layering on new experiences of safety.
6. The beautiful boy had yet another work crisis, so the night before he left was spent with me sitting on the couch for several hours watching him yell at his computer screen. We have very different philosophies and experiences (and metaphors, as it turns out!) when it comes to our individual relationships with both our work and our bodies, and this mismatch sort of came to a head, and we had a few minutes of swirling in misunderstanding. I am now better able to understand both his situation and approach, thanks to the healing superpowers of Compassionate Communication and to our willingness to meet the moment with love. However, I’m also much more aware of what’s really vitally important to me in life, and I think this might be the first place where we just don’t see eye to eye on something big. A breath of love for both of us.
7. I feel frustrated and annoyed that despite being on Shmita (sabbatical year), I still somehow have way too much to do. This is a very interesting phenomenon which I wish to explore, but right now I just want to grumble-grumble-grumble about Why So Much Doing. A breath of acknowledgment and legitimacy.
8. Inhale, exhale. May all misunderstandings and distortions, internal and external, dissolve in love if not in laughter. Goodbye (and thank you), mysteries and hard moments of this week. May I choose to trust-more love-more release-more receive-more.

Eight breaths of good, reassuring, delight-filled.

1. I stayed remarkably calm and steady through (most of) the hard things. A breath of deep appreciation and gratitude.
2. I stood in my strength. I spoke truth. I wrote six different letters to people in the dance community about my experience, and what I need in terms of support. And I received warm responses from people who wanted to help. I was brave and gracious and clear, and I get endless sparklepoints. A breath for sovereignty, new patterns and wearing my crown.
3. Beautiful nights (and mornings) with my lover all week. A breath for sweet smiles, quiet presence, softening, and this joy-love-delight-heart.
4. Lusciousness. And so much rest. On Sunday, we went to bed at 11pm and stayed there until 3 o’clock the next afternoon, just catching up on sleep, rest, sweetness and adoration. Actually, I think there were multiple days this week where I didn’t even get out of my bathrobe until late afternoon. Huh. So maybe despite what I said earlier, I am finding my way into new levels of Shmita life. Anyway, it was a lovely week for lazing about and writing from bed and taking things slowly. A breath for this magic.
5. I followed the trails and clues and ended up in a geosedic dome — a secret round house — having my aura photo taken. (Richard: “Whoa! Looks like you broke the machine!”). A breath of love for roundness, and for beautiful mysterious moments.
6. A completely life-changing private dance lesson, on the topic of Standing In My Strength. My teacher said, “Let’s explore ways that we can maintain control AND our personal dignity in a subtle yet absolute manner in any dance position, whether in a workshop or on the social floor. And we will turn you into a graceful and formidable panther that NOBODY messes with.” The lesson was all that and more, and I am overflowing with gratitude. Oh, and then I used all of her tricks during the dance, and they worked. Danced for four hours and had only good dances, and a bunch of people noticed and said, “Wow, you’re really getting good!”. I know more about being a panther now! A breath of awe.
7. Even as I was running into all my patterns and blocks this week, I was still able to remember that I am doing the best that I can. I made endless safe rooms. I brought in internal negotiators to talk things out with monsters. I took really good care of myself. I was even able to spend an entire afternoon pretending I was Incoming Me, and channeling her superpowers of IDGAFx1000 and Choosing Supportive Environments, and it totally worked. A breath for the beautiful practice of self-fluency, and how it makes everything better.
8. Thankfulness. So much is good. Reclaiming the favorite cafe. Sleeping so well. Past-me made sure there was ginger in the house. Everything is okay. Nothing is wrong, even when I think it is. Now is not then. All Timing Is Right Timing. Thankful for this grand adventure. A full breath of deep appreciation in my thank-you heart.

Wham booms, wisdom, superpowers, salve and FBOTW!

Operations completed. Wham boom!

Realized I want to postpone Operations Alternative Shed and Calm Island. Began preliminary research on Operations Well Robed and Live Light. Operation Trust Release Ease is the best. Wham Boom. I now bestow upon myself a hundred billion sparklepoints, and you are welcome to do the same.

Superpowers I had this week…

Last week I asked the power of thinking of my body as precious expensive cargo that I treat with magnificent attentiveness and wonderful steadiness. And it happened. First it had to not-happen, for me to get how this works, but now I really feel it.

I also had the superpower of Letting People Answer Their Own Questions!

Powers I want.

Bringing back Beautifully Anchored, Deeply Trusting, and, I am a Powerful Slinky Very Relaxed Panther.

And the power of pausing and breathing and saying thank you.

The Salve of I Am The Right _______ For Me.

This week my monsters were very upset about how my clothes are too tight right now, and we talked about this, and eventually were able to unite in the understanding that I AM ALWAYS THE RIGHT SIZE FOR A HAVI BECAUSE I AM ALWAYS HAVI. And, related, if clothing doesn’t fit, the problem is with the clothing, not with me, because being the Havi that I am in this moment is always okay and a miracle of life.

And: if I move my body, it is for the joy of moving, and not with an agenda to alter my container, because my job is to care for, be present with and delight in my container, not to critique it or force it or berate it or need it to be different in order to be good.

This salve strengthens the wise, compassionate part of me that knows truth: I am the right EVERYTHING for me. I am the right amount of X for a Havi, and the right amount of Y for a Havi. Especially for a Havi who is a Havi in this moment.

The right amount of sensitive. The right amount of resilient. I take up the right amount of space.

It also, counter-intuitively, allows for change. When I allow myself to be A Havi Who Is Very Highly Anxious In This Moment Because That Is The Experience Of A Havi, I suddenly can access Steady Havi.

This salve has the most subtle texture, and the most subtle and indescribable scent. In a way, it’s like wearing something made of the softest most buttery whipped something, like clouds and moonbeams.

Playing live at the meme beach house — the Fake Band of the Week!

This week’s band is called The Last Avocado. Their latest album is Dust Homecoming Monster Box Broken Hunt Legacy (don’t read the comments on this link!). And, of course, it’s just one guy.

And the photo was taken in Lubbock, TX by Jesse! Thank you!

How was your week?

Come play in the comments. Share something from your week, take a breath, or just say hi! No rules, my format doesn’t have to be yours, we’ve been doing this every week for years now and there still isn’t a right way.

Everyone belongs. We let people have their own experience. We’re supportive and welcoming. We don’t give advice.

Wishing you a glorrrrrrrrrrrrious day, a restful weekend and a happy week to come.

It’s fine if it’s not Friday anymore. There’s complete chicken amnesty — jump in whenever you like. Blowing kisses to the Beloved Lurkers too!