Personal ads. They’re … personal!

♡

Asking.

The past twenty four hours have been — for me — tumultuous, messy and full of upheaval, both internal and external.

I am feeling fragile, vulnerable, raw, unsure.

So, I am scrapping the post I’d been writing, and coming back to the grounding ritual (yes, it is a ritual that is grounding, and also a grounding-ritual) of coming here to find out what I want.

I need something more stable, more contained than free-form exploring, so I am just going to ask and keep asking the following questions:

1. What do I want?
2. What do I know about what I want?

Ask and keep asking. Here we go.

What do I want.

A new foundation.

What do I know about a new foundation?

I love double-meanings, and foundation is full of possible meanings.

A new foundation could be the literal foundation to a building, to a particular building I know of whose foundation is crumbling.

A new foundation could be metaphorical/symbolic grounding for me, a new way of being deeply connected and beautifully anchored.

A new foundation could be about being luminous. I don’t wear foundation, and I hardly ever wear makeup at all, but something about glowing, about a protective layer of light, yes, this speaks to me.

A new foundation could be an organization. Maybe it’s my new cover story: I oversee a foundation, yes.

A new foundation is kind of the best way to describe the work I’m currently doing with my hypnotist, healing backwards, both horizontally and vertically, through time and space. Destruction and Uncreation. Retroactive rebuilding. Replacing my foundation of trauma with a fountain of light.

Maybe my new foundation is being able to dance in particles of light, letting the ground reconfigure beneath me, who cares, I am always grounded in light.

What do I want.

Relief.

What do I know about relief?

Yesterday I went to a place that I no longer visit, and while I was there, a spider bit me on the inside of the wrist, exactly in the place where my lover kisses me.

The bite is huge, swollen, distracting, uncomfortable.

Relief is whatever is the most soothing, the most comforting, the most predictable in the sense of steady and reassuring.

I want relief in the form of loving and tender words whispered in my ear, spells cast in the form of beloved fingers writing words down my back.

I want relief in the form of healing. I want a sweet subsiding.

Relief can also mean financial relief. Relief can also mean someone taking over your duties so that you can rest. Relief is that wonderful exhale when you realize (or, sometimes: remember) that you are okay, that the people you love are okay.

There is relief in sculpture, the way something projects out from the flat surface, and there is relief in baseball when a new pitcher — the reliever — comes in. A reliever. I’ll take one of those please.

What do I want.

Home base.

What do I know about home base?

It’s part of my new foundation.

What do I want.

Clear-eyed trust.

What do I know about clear-eyed trust?

Let’s remember, my love, let’s remember:

Whenever we find something that looks like a pattern but it makes us feel bad, that’s a story we are creating (with the help of Scared Tiny Havi and maybe some monsters) about the intel at hand, and not the actual useful patterns.

Let’s look at the information without needing it to form a narrative about how I always get hurt.

What do I want.

New foundations made of light.

What do I know about new foundations made of light?

New foundations are made of light, because the earth ones just crumble away anyway, and light can take any form we want it to.

What do I want.

To take exquisite care of myself right now.

And always. But mainly right now.

What do I know about taking exquisite care of myself right now?

In grief as it is in grief:

Intense loving self-care. Asking for what is needed. Letting yourself be cared for. Letting other people figure out the details. Getting close to the floor.

Being the best possible mother to me. Being the best possible mother to tiny me. New foundations of that.

Crying as much as is needed. Naming things. Being grounded.

Coming back to this moment. Letting go of more in each exhale: knowing that exhaling is treasure. Taking in more light and love in the inhale, because each inhalation is treasure.

And: one fucking step at a time. That’s how trust works, right?

Though sometimes it also works in leaps and bounds, soaring like a trapeze artist, landing like a panther, all grace.

What do I want.

New forms of grounded. New forms of flying.

New ways to be tree and bird.

What do I know about new forms of grounded and flying?

When I was young, I used to have dreams about being kidnapped.

Young: as far back as I can remember, all the way until I left home.

In the dream, he was driving down my street, and I hid in my house, but then my mother, or, later on, my grandmother when she was living with us, invited him in.

I wasn’t able to explain that this person was dangerous, or maybe they refused to believe me.

I would duck out the back door, but he would find me, and I would run, but I couldn’t run fast enough, and then, sometimes, my legs would begin to bound, my feet would take off, brushing the ground and, with a few bumpy starts, I was flying above him and he couldn’t get me.

Sometimes he would still follow me, but I got good at flying higher and faster, at hiding until he gave up.

What would it be like to fly not out of fear but with joy, the way a trapeze artist flies.

What would it be like to fly the way my secret panther moves, each movement emerging from powerful embodied grace, the desire to move (not the desire to escape) is what sets me free.

What do I want.

A secret bolthole: a place just for me, a sanctuary.

What do I know about a place just for me?

It is small, compact, glowing, beautiful. Luscious Minimalism.

It is like a very miniature version of the Playground, the center I [verb-ed] in Portland for nearly five years.

Cozy, sweet, quiet, possibly disguised. Like a safe room, come to life. A parallel world version of the one that lives in my mind.

I can come and go as often as I like, and it waits for me, with love.

This is where I seed new foundations, where I practice walking through holograms of light.

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.

Now.

You know how, when everything gets turned upside down, none of the normal bits of life make sense?

Somehow it’s evening now, even though my body is telling me it’s early afternoon. And the thermometer says 90 degrees outside, but the house isn’t acting like that is true.

Everywhere I look in my living room, I suddenly see the color red where I didn’t notice it before.

What does Slightly Future Me have to say?

Ze: Remember the dream where you and Bella were riding carousel horses around the world, and the poles went all the way to the center of the earth, but you could go so fast because they were so stable?
Me: That was a good dream. I didn’t know her name was Bella then. So you’re saying that is an example of a new foundation?
Ze: I’m saying you have good allies, and that there are lots of cool forms that stability can take.
Me: How come I’m so good at being grounded and present for someone I love when they’re in crisis, or for me, when I’m in crisis, but then I lose my grounding so easily just walking down the street.
Ze: Because you’re hyper-aware of people who have erratic or possibly predatory energy, and because you’re still learning how to use your superpowers. Let’s practice remembering what grounded and present feels like.

Clues.

My dance teacher described a step as “digging a trench, but sexy”.

The superpower of Wildly Confident, Wonderfully Tranquil.

June was RELEASE MORE, with the superpower of I am stronger than I think, and July was LOVE MORE, because this is a badass way to live.

Now we are in TRUST MORE, with the superpower of Wildly Confident, Wonderfully Tranquil.

I guess that’s the best possible month for everything falling apart, foundations crumbling, learning about new ones. Trust more, and then trust even more.

I am ready to learn to trust the ground, or at least to trust in my ability to walk on tightly-packed particles of light.

Things I find helpful for intentions and wishes…

Progress report on past Very Personal Ads.

So. Last week aka Trust Returns..

Trust did in fact return to me in the form of the beautiful boy, who came back from the mountains and into my arms. And in the form of going all the way back to the beginning in my dance studies and starting over. And listening to my body.

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

It is Friday Saturday and we are here.

The Chicken was all ready to go yesterday afternoon, but the collective of tiny squirrels who run the blogging software decided to keep giving me an error message so I couldn’t log in.

So I took that as an invitation to take the day off, and now we are here! Also, happy 150th day of Shmita to me!

{a breath for this space, and for being here when we get here.}

What worked this week?

Intentional naps.

We used to do this at Rally. You get stuck on something, so you ask incoming-you to reveal a clue while you sleep, or go eat pie.

And then you take a break — an INTENTIONAL BREAK, so that the monsters don’t throw a fit about how this is selfish and indulgent and a waste of time. You remind them that this is a technique, and an experiment, and, for scientific purposes, this will only work if they aren’t messing with it.

The subconscious/unconscious delivers. Or possibly the nap fairies.

I did this a lot this week: told myself that I was going to do something restful, asked to have some new information on the other side.

It might have even worked too much? Seriously, I had who is Keyser Soze levels of understandings and insights this week, to the point that I was getting whiplash from the speed of my epiphanies. But it worked.

Next time I might…

Remember my job title.

I have trouble with decisions whenever I forget these two pieces of truth:

1. I know more about what I want than anyone else knows about that topic!
2. I am allowed to want what I want! I might not get what I want, but I’m allowed to want it, and to know what I want and not hide that information from myself in an attempt to keep me safe from criticism.

So. From now on, I plan to just walk around thinking about how I am the top researcher in the world in the field of Havi Studies.

Indeed! And therefore I am an EXPERT at Decision-Receiving* because I have invested so many years of training, study, and research. I know better than anyone what Current Havi might want and need. 

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

You know what? Maybe later. The Havi Brooks Story.

Eight breaths for the hard, challenging and mysterious.

1. I have been experimenting with a practice I call Wanting Without Why, which is allowing myself to want something without needing to list the reasons. It is SO HARD. I’m constantly aware of how desperately I want to explain and defend myself! This is a good exercise for the month of Trust More, and it is showing me all my patterns. A breath for easing and releasing, the theme of this year.
2. My lover is backpacking in the Sierras for ten days, out of cell range. I haven’t heard from him since Saturday. I miss him terribly. I know he’s okay because I can feel him thinking of me, like a warm flush of heart-glow, but that’s not the same as words. I like words. I was hanging in there with just the warm-glow communication until yesterday evening, and that is when I got to experience entirely new sliding-off-the-rocker levels of missing. A breath for Trust More. Thanks, last-year-me for (literally!) putting that on the calendar.
3. Still working on figuring out how to protect, love and tend to my unique pace of learning, and this is not easy stuff. A breath for patience, tenderness, for getting used to being someone who advocates for themselves as a matter of course.
4. My body has developed an allergy to trapeze. Not to being on it (or trying to get up on it), but to getting enough sleep to go to class. It just goes on strike the night before. So that’s interesting and useful, and I’m respecting my body and not going, but the allergy part is not fun and the exhaustion is not fun. I don’t feel scared of the class. The instructor is lovely, the pace is good, I feel comfortable just going to part of the class, and advocating for myself as I need, and leaving early. But my body is not having it, and comes up with some sort of crisis that just so happens to be a few hours before the class starts so that I can’t go. Which is fine. Body knows best, body comes first. I am okay with not pushing, I am okay with not going, I am okay with back to bed. But this allergy is exhausting. Come on, babe. Let’s just say what we want without going through this rigamarole. A breath of sweet permission and endless healing.
5. Speaking of my trapeze allergy, everyone I talk to about this says something like “oh, well, it’s okay to be scared”, and it is so unbelievably frustrating and I want to punch them. I know I am scared of pretty much everything, but really and truly I’m not scared of this class. This is not trapeze like “she flies through the air with the greatest of ease” or whatever people might be picturing. It’s just a sturdy, round hoop that’s five feet off the ground, with giant mats underneath. It might theoretically be scary if you forget how to get down? I wouldn’t know though, since I can’t pull myself up yet. And, anyway, they also have a practice hoop that is barely off the ground. Fear is not the issue here. And I don’t need to be given permission to be afraid. I give that to myself, all the time, for everything in life. A breath for the part of me who hates perceiving that she is misunderstood, and a breath for getting back to my yes.
6. Speaking of exhaustion, my trip to Seattle on Saturday took much longer than anticipated, and I didn’t get back until 3:30am. My body can’t handle stuff like that anymore, and it didn’t like being in a car for eight hours, even if that was broken up by many hours of movement. A breath for me, and for learning this new way of taking care of myself and advocating for myself.
7. I have had this idea in my head for the past nearly two years that if I “just took the time” to actually work on dance drills, I’d be able to get certain movements and concepts into my body and see/feel actual progress. Nope. This week I had both the time, energy and commitment to put two hours a day into re-learning the most basic movements, and nothing. I mean, nothing. I’ve been really invested in the fantasy that all I need to do is carve out a few hours here and there, and the slow motion montage will take care of itself. Turns out we are dealing with a much bigger learning curve than I had understood or been able to anticipate, and not feeling ANY change was incredibly frustrating. Oh well. A breath for wax on and wax off, and, yet again, trusting the process.
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 am better at taking care of myself and advocating for myself now than I have ever been in my life. A breath for all the healing that is happening, and the superpowers of permission, attentiveness and going back to bed.
2. Last week I mentioned the PROTOCOL — when I can’t get a sense of what I want (and when I pretend to myself that I don’t know, but I feel really vague and I can’t feel my feet), I remember that I’m probably disassociating, or there’s some reason I don’t want to let myself know what I want. Anyway, the protocol in that situation is Apply Emergency Extreme Self-Care Immediately and do something really calming for my body. I usually save the protocol for emergencies, but this week I just applied it to everything. I mean, if that’s not Shmita-mindset, what is? A breath for the completely radical practice of sweetness, with all the beautiful surprises it is bringing.
3. Given the circumstances (extreme exhaustion, lover has disappeared, perceived failings, monsters everywhere), you’d think I’d be pellet-pushing (twitter, facebook, instagram) or other forms of modern self-medicating, or following whatever old, familiar not-necessarily-healthy pathways. I’ve been staying offline. I’ve been breathing and walking and checking in with small, scared me. A breath of gratitude.
4. I was able to access entirely new levels of Kindness this week, both inwardly and outwardly directed. A breath for how beautiful and sweet this is.
5. I followed my instinct and the joy spark trails, and went to TRE (thank you, Leocadia) and Feldenkrais, and took care of my body in a variety of ways, and skipped trapeze again, and made time for dance drills, and had three hour naps and gave myself good food. A breath for all of this.
6. The semi-secret Bell of Belltown Op in Seattle was full of inspiration and small miracles, and I got to know a dance acquaintance much better than before, and it turns out that she is a bright, kind, interesting, thoughtful person, so now I have a new dance friend. A breath for treasure.
7. I am having a much easier time than usual being an ally and fairy godmother to myself — to current me and to all the versions of Tiny Me and Past Me, and to plant clues and gifts for Incoming Me, and all of this feels so good, and so important. A breath of appreciation for all parts and aspects of this awesome commune of wildly eccentric, sensitive, interesting people who are all me, I’m so glad we all get to play together, and so thankful I live in a time and culture where this is a thing I can talk about, albeit mostly only here.
8. Thankfulness. So much is good. Scrambled eggs and avocado. Frozen almonds dipped in Mayan cocoa. Cool breezes. Month of trust. Clues everywhere. 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!

The Seattle op happened. Laundry happened. A hundred tiny little pieces moved in seemingly insignificant ways but it happened. Received two big (and very clear) decisions on things that had been weighing on me. Calling this a successful mission, and I now award myself a hundred billion sparklepoints. Wham Boom.

Superpowers I had this week…

I had the superpower of going back in time and changing memories. I also had, briefly, the superpower of Deep Deep Deep Trust That All Is Well.

Powers I want.

Same as last week, please: the superpowers of Beautifully Anchored, Deeply Trusting, and, of course, I am a Powerful Slinky Very Relaxed Panther

The Salve of Beautifully Anchored.

The primary dance I do, west coast swing, is a luscious, creative, playful, improvisational, deliciously gooey dance, and it is very much about anchoring.

My partner me sends me in a direction and I set off in that direction until they stop me, and then I anchor, keeping my energy headed in the original direction, like a boat drifting with the water after the anchor has been set, until I am sent in a new direction. Trusting the process, alive and powerful, delighting in what happens along the way.

This is not about obedience. This is about Agency and Play, within the container or game of “here is the direction of the wind in your sails”.

This salve does the thing that happens in this dance, but to your entire life. You put a dab on your skin (or as much as you want), and then it just happens.

You happily follow a trail, a thread, a scent, a clue, a wish, a desire, a good feeling of YES. You project your energy in this direction until you get redirected by life/source, and instead of an abrupt stop of Uh Oh Something Is Wrong, you just easily and calmly feel into the familiar direction, and then slowly drift your way into this new direction, taking your beautiful sexy time, moving with your breath, shifting course in the most steady and natural way.

This is a salve of Grounding, Magic, Flow, Passion, Creativity, Joy and Safe Passage.

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

This week’s band is from Nomi and it’s called Vicarious Trapeze. Their latest album is Quintessentially Upside Down. And it’s actually 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!