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.
An airport parking lot filled entirely with French horns.
I am happiest when I am quiet, when everything is quiet, and listen best when there isn’t much visual input. I close my eyes a lot to focus.
I have trouble watching plays — too much going on at once. If I am listening very intently to you, I may turn my head away.
Both my traveling companion and my housemate in Portland find it baffling when they tell me something and I don’t understand it, and the reason is because the radio is on in the background, and I am overwhelmed by sensory input.
All this to say that I am most emphatically an auditory person…
Not only do I orient towards words and sound, but add to this HSP empath, and kind of witchy, and what you get is someone who a) can access more intel than a lot of people, and b) this happens in the form of words.
Sure, sometimes I see and feel things too, like when I found a nest in my ovaries, or the time a wall inside of me melted.
If you’ve read those pieces though or any of my writing, you know that the vast majority of my processing happens through listening, allowing things to be revealed.
Seeing.
Five weeks ago I entered some new internal territory (hello, Year of Releasing) which includes chronic pain, among other things, and another interesting piece to this is that now I am seeing things instead of hearing them.
Today I wanted to share some of what I have seen in the past couple weeks.
The copper bowl in the wrong place.
I was doing a Tami Kent exercise which I learned from Danielle Cornelius. You sort of imagine clearing out your pelvic bowl.
I saw the bowl instead of what would normally happen which would be feeling the bowl and then the bowl would talk to me.
It was a large copper bowl, in a wide open clearing in the forest, and it was in the wrong place, but I didn’t know the right place, and I wasn’t able to do anything with that other than receive it: this isn’t the location. This was the for-now location.
I was sweeping out the bowl with a broom, and the broom and I had a little laugh about how this is kind of like the secret purpose of a witch’s broom: clearing things out. The flying is a disguise. Or maybe flying is another form of clearing things out and releasing.
Wolves.
The wolves came then and circled the bowl. They couldn’t get near it because the bowl is protected, but this felt so very familiar.
Predatory energy. It just is. It’s everywhere and always has been.
I didn’t have to do anything about the wolves because some wise elders, women, from my lineage were there — clear, zero tolerance for bullshit. They just pointed towards the forest, and the wolves immediately slunk away, slightly apologetic, as if they’d already known they weren’t allowed near me or my bowl.
One of the women showed me how to point like that, with authority and a total lack of concern for what the wolves think they want.
You stand very tall, and you get very grounded, and you look both strong and bored at the same time. A comfortable, careless, sovereign knowing: this is no space for you, wolves.
The anger cauldron.
I found a cauldron inside of me and it was boiling anger, and had been for a very long time.
Probably anger about all the constant bullshit I deal with from wolves, past and present and theoretical and just the general culture of that. And the injustice: why is our world built to support the desires of wolves and not the safety and protection of bowls.
It was uncomfortable being home to an anger cauldron. The cauldron was heavy and old, and so many things had boiled down inside of it that it was coated in charred bits of old recipes.
I pointed out that once our bowl finds its right home and I get better at this authoritative pointing thing, we won’t need to cook up anger anymore, and then the cauldron seemed to feel relieved, and it left on its own.
The gazelle and the flower.
A gazelle came by and circled the territory of my right ovary in a loping gait, graceful, powerful, at ease. My left side bloomed with pale pink-purple flowers.
Everything felt calm.
The temple of yes.
It’s an altar of stones by the ocean and it is the place of yes.
I put flowers around it and hung out there for a while.
The ocean was peaceful and spacious and it told me to come back soon.
A conversation with a special table, and then more sights.
A few days later I was getting some physical therapy in Salt Lake City, on a very unusual table.
I asked the table what it wanted to tell me, because clearly it had things to say, and because I am a person who hears things. The Table said:
STOP CARRYING.
Put everything down. No, put everything down. Really and truly everything.
(You can pick it back up later if you choose to, but first you have to experience what it is like to not be holding it.)
Then it asked me to just watch. So I watched.
The table stopped talking, and for the next hour it just delivered images…
First the cages.
Giant wrought iron bird cages and then small ones.
These were guilt. Ha, I just now got the pun. Guilt/gilt.
Normally I would have gotten that right away because I would have received it as a WORD.
This was image, followed by feeling. I saw the cages, a procession of them, and then I knew what they were.
Guilt cages.
The cages demonstrated the uselessness of guilt. It can’t be contained, so you just end up caging yourself. It limits freedom but it doesn’t hold anything in.
The cages understood that they were unnecessary: I let them go, and they let me go.
Stacks of boxes.
Then shame: messy looking cardboard boxes, like moving house, all shapes and sizes.
They were taped up tightly, some with messages scribbled on them. Most of the boxes were falling apart, a little damp, moist, old, ragged. Enough boxes to fill a supermarket.
The thing with shame is that it doesn’t need you to look in the boxes. It’s the not wanting to look that strengthens it. It doesn’t really matter whether you look or not, since lugging the boxes around is a futile pursuit.
I followed the table’s advice, and let the boxes go.
Back to cauldrons.
Once the guilt cages and shame boxes cleared out, I was able to see how much anger I’ve been holding onto.
Cauldrons of all sizes, black, iron. Old potions had been cooked and forgotten, coating the insides.
I didn’t want to let the cauldrons go yet, but then I remembered the part about how I can reclaim anything I want later. The purpose of this was to discover who I am when I am not living on a slow burn of fury at the world for what is and what has been.
The cauldrons marched themselves away when I agreed to let them go.
Let it burn.
What happened next was a series of surprises. I expected the room might get cooler when all my internal cauldrons left me, but it actually got hotter because suddenly there were fires everywhere.
The fires were fear. Forest fires of fear. This made no sense to me, it didn’t fit how I experience fear. And it wasn’t what I thought I would find beneath the anger.
I circled the fires and the fires circled me and I didn’t know what to do. I felt helpless.
The Table said: Let them burn themselves out. Don’t feed them, don’t worry about them, don’t be afraid of them (because that’s feeding them). Trust them. Trust their work of burning. And trust that this fire cannot hurt you, it’s just a process of endings.
LET EVERYTHING BURN, said the Table. And so I did.
Once everything was black and charred, a breeze came and lifted it all, and then there was nothing.
That was when the grief came but I didn’t cry.
I sat where the fires had been and let bowls fill with water, and let them empty.
Grief, grief, grief: rituals of releasing.
Then the horns.
After grief was another surprise: Regrets.
They were musical instruments, and there were so many of them. Rows and rows and rows of French horns. Then saxophones and trumpets and drums and all manner of things, but mostly French horns.
Not being played, just placed down. So many of them. Like watching an airport parking lot fill up with instruments.
I saw a house from my memory, and remembered what the regret was.
I wanted to touch the instruments, ask them why, but the purpose of this was to let them go, so I said I LET YOU GO, and an entire airport parking lot of French horns floated away.
Places and roses.
I waited for more emotions to come to me in unlikely shapes, but that part was done.
The table showed me all the physical places in my life where bad or unpleasant or unhappy things have happened, and I was asked to turn these into rose gardens or let them become rose gardens.
It was surprisingly easy, now that I had let everything go.
All I had to do was agree: This space can now become a rose garden.
Four summer camps, six cafes, apartments, book stores, street corners, buses, trains: all rose gardens now.
Then I became a rose garden.
Bowl.
The table told me that my only job from now on is to live in my garden and tend to my garden.
I walked through my garden and in the center was a beautiful elaborate labyrinth made of small stones. And the center of the labyrinth was my copper bowl. It had found its home.
I practiced pointing but there was nothing to point at because wolves don’t know about my garden.
The bowl asked me to wander the garden and remove any machinery or any “gifts”, anything that does not belong there because it is not mine. Things people want me to store for them because they feel safe with me.
I found objects belonging to former clients and internet people and people who have had crushes on me and former bosses and my ex the Spy, and all of it had to go. WHOOSH GOODBYE.
Stop caring.
When the garden was happy because all of the not-belonging-here belongings were cleared out, I sat down next to the bowl and waited for more information.
Here is what came:
STOP CARING
What?! Why? Why would I want to stop caring.
I didn’t understand.
The bowl said, sometimes caring is another form of carrying.
A door into glowing.
The bowl explained how this works. Stop caring means:
- Stop caring what people think.
- Stop caring about how you look.
- Stop caring in the sense of over-empathy with all the bad things, where you feel the pain of the world and it becomes yours, where you get so upset with injustice that you can’t function.
- Stop investing in other people’s opinions, philosophies, judgments.
Caring makes it real, and it’s not real.
It is a beautiful illusion. So stop carrying and stop caring.
Also this means stop caring in the sense of worrying, for example, the way I am currently all worked up about my illness right now This whole experience of pain is just a door to get me centered, grounded and focused downstairs, it is healing all my tendencies to float around in my head.
It is MOVING ME downstairs (a parallel to what is happening in my actual home because The Havi Show is the funniest), and this experience will help me be a better healer, dancer, writer and glowing flowing person.
That’s what the bowl said: Trust. No more carrying/caring. Let yourself care less and be more.
Next.
The treatment ended and I asked the table what is next. It said:
YOU ARE HEALED AND WHOLE.
YOU ARE HEALED AND WHOLE.
YOU ARE HEALED AND WHOLE.
And then after that.
And then that evening I got angry with my lover for the very first time, and then we made up and then we watched a movie, and there was a spectacular releasing of grief, which lasted for hours, undoing and undoing and undoing some more.
And then after that.
I am practicing.
Practicing looking in addition to listening. Noticing if and when I’m carrying/caring too much. Bringing my attention downstairs instead of just living upstairs.
Being curious about what I can put down and how that might feel.
Letting “healed and whole” be an option as a thing that is possible, even when I am in pain and in process and figuring stuff out.
Allowing airport parking lots to fill with French horns, if that is what is needed.
Giving permission for things to move and change, and for me to ease-and-release my way through it, to rest my way through instead of fighting my way through.
What would you like to stop carrying? Come play.
Keep me company!
Anything you would like to set down and let go of: it’s the month of releasing in the year of releasing, this is as good a time as any.
Other things that are welcome: hearts, pebbles, warmth, sweetness, any sparks sparked for you while reading,
As always, this is beautifully safe space, and we are able keep it that way by the intentional practice of not giving advice and not going into care-taking mode. We remember that we all have our stuff, we’re all working on our stuff, it’s a process.
We meet each other (and ourselves) with as much love as we can.
Wish 310: moho
Personal ads. They’re … personal! Very.
♡
Moho.
Last week I received the mysterious and wonderful word “shed” (double-meaning!), and now the word of the week is moho.
This is interesting because, unlike shed, it is not really a word.
So I get to play. And I like to play.
If moho is secret code, or a delicious mystery, what do I know about it?
Things moho might conceivably stand for…
- motor home, which is both a symbol and a clue for how I want to live even if it isn’t exactly how I want to live…
- mohorovicic discontinuity: the boundary between the earth’s crust and mantle, across which there is a sudden change in the velocity of seismic waves — this sentence excites me!
- mohair: on
- mohawk: orange!
- maha om — maha is Sanskrit and means great
- monastic honesty
- mothering home
- more honoring
Other words and sounds that come up for me: mellifluous orchestration, moon healing observatory, mahogany…
What else?
Oh! MOHO could also be an acronym! I am wildly in love with acronyms.
Mission Of Holistic Ops! Messages On Happy Ordinances. Meticulous Ordering of Helpful Offerings. May Openings and Healing Occur.
I asked my brother, and he came up with these:
Mice Often Heal Otters! Moose Only Help Orangutans! Muskrats Ought to Hide Oregano!
And now I want to read an children’s book (illustrated by Richard, of course) about all of those.
MOHO can also work as a compass. North is M, East is O, South is H, West is O.
And if you, dear reader, wish to play as well and share associations or invent things moho might mean or stand for, you are welcome and invited to drop them into the comments! Though I wish for either positive or neutral or silly things, not depressing ones…
What do I know about this wish?
Um, nothing yet?
Let’s see.
I like mysteries. I like secret code. I like missions and ops. I like surprises. I like receiving intel, even if I don’t understand it yet.
I also like possibility: moho can be anything, which means there are so many wonderful ways to be surprised. Come in, come in, superpowers of Good Surprises and Receptivity To Being Delighted.
Oh!
Something just landed.
My two big life themes right now are MOON and HOME.
And a moon home is like an alternate name for an earthship, something I am currently obsessed with.
What else could moon home be?
Moon for me is about lunar cycles, syncing up my beautiful downstairs bodyparts with the moon so we wax and wane at the same times. It is about Operation Loving Downstairs, making peace with this body of mine and feeling deeply at home in it.
Yes, home and at home.
Home is also related to containers, anything that holds a process, or anything that is a home inside of a home.
Home is also related to Shmita and Operation True Yes: it is now just over three months that I have been on the road, living in an nine foot living space aka the Bouncy Castle, the tiny, sweet camper on my lover’s truck.
Moons.
I love living small. Sometimes we talk about downsizing to a van, and sometimes we talk about expanding into a larger camper, sometimes it’s building a small portable house, and all of these are fun to imagine, in different ways.
I love opening the skylight above the bed at night, being right there under moon and stars.
This month is the Month of Releasing, and that is related to moon cycles as well.
The moon is also a model for how I want to live.
Half the time in expanding mode, half the time in quieting mode.
The ha and the tha.
If you’ve ever taken a yoga class or thought about it, you’ve probably run into the term hatha yoga.
Most studios generally present this as if it is a kind of yoga, but actually ALL yoga is hatha yoga.
{HA = sun / THA = moon}
The HA is everything that is active: making things happen is HA, strength poses are HA, getting things done is HA, going after what you want is HA.
The THA is everything that is restorative, receptive, passive: resting is THA, stretching is THA, listening is THA, letting things emerge and be revealed is THA.
HA is doing, THA is being.
The HA is the yang to the THA yin.
And just like with yin/yang, neither is good or bad, and there’s no such thing as something which is entirely ha or tha. There is always a kernel of one inside of the other.
Both HA and THA are vital and necessary parts of being alive, both can hold GRACE and PRESENCE and JOY.
Off balance.
Our culture loves HA, and is not so into THA, other than as a vague idea that some people blog about sometimes (self-care is good!).
The other day I was at an aerobics class (HA!), and the instructor said something like, “Isn’t it so great that you took this hour for you? This is your you-time!”, and all the busy, exhausted moms cheered.
And I thought, oh dear lord, how did we get to this point, collectively, that an hour out of twenty four is considered a victory? I mean, it is a victory, and also it’s a pretty low bar for taking care of ourselves. That’s not how I want to live at all.
One of the things I’m trying to figure out through this experiment in Shmita (Releasing/Sabbatical) is how I can find a way to live/work that can consist of equal parts Being and Doing…
Because they way I’ve been doing things up until now is Lots And Lots Of DOING.
Actually it’s more like All DOING Followed By Having A Breakdown and Practicing BEING Because It’s An Emergency But Just Until I Recover And Then It’s Back To Just DOING Again.
What if Moon Home is a way to bring more moon (THA) energy and practices into my life? What if Moon Home is creating an internal culture of me where Moon feels like home?
I love this part.
Each week I write a wish, and each week I think “what is this even about?”.
And then suddenly it becomes clear. Sometimes as I am wishing, sometimes weeks later.
This is a wish about giving myself permission to devote more of my time and attention to being.
Being with my body, being with the process of releasing, being with the things I want to create when I am ready to be in doing mode.
Invitation.
Not only are you invited to name things that MOHO could mean or stand for, you are also invited to name things in our culture that emphasizse HA over THA, and then you can say HA! Because that is fun.
Also! Last week I asked for votes for your preferences on four possible ebooks that I might write.
Matt asked me on Twitter if I was also taking write-in votes for things people want me to write. And I wasn’t, except now I am actually really CURIOUS.
So — I make no promises to write any of these — what would you want me to write about if you got a fairy godmother wish and could choose the topic of a Havi e-book? If it were up to you, and I would write the thing you wanted to read from me, what would it be? Or ten books, while we are playing with wishes.
I am listening.
Now.
We are almost at new moon. Hello, new moon.
Me: Hey, slightly-wiser me, what do you have for me?
She: I love your wishes! I love how you process! I love how this lets you take steps towards me so we can play!
Me: Do you know what moho means? Or does it even matter?
She: I promise that we will laugh about this delightedly at some point.
Clues?
I just looked around my space, pausing to really look and feel, and guess what?
Right next to my laptop is my lip and cheek stain from Fat & The Moon. The moon!
Also that sweet little tin is like a symbol of how I want to live. It is my (amazing) lip balm AND my lipstick, it is a gorgeous color, it is the perfect answer to a wish I made here a long time ago, and it is also my blush and my eye shadow.
It is made of beet root and sunflower oil and beeswax and essential oils and magic, no plastic involved. It’s a moon clue and a clue about living joyfully and intentionally. I’ll take it!
The superpower of I am stronger than I think.
The quality for May was REVERBERATE, and it comes with I take care of myself first. Now we are in June: RELEASE MORE, with the quality of I am stronger than I think.
I really love how the moons/months are blending together, both the qualities and the superpowers.
This week’s wish is absolutely about taking care of myself first, and also about the strength that it takes (I am stronger than I think) to do that and to commit to it. It means going agains the larger, louder culture we live in.
I wouldn’t have thought that not-doing (THA!) and releasing (THA!) required so much strength (HA!) and determination (HA!) but it does, and that is beautiful.
Things I find helpful for intentions and wishes…
Adventure. Rest. Horizons. Security. Passion. Sweetness. Clarity. Presence.
Ongoing wishes.
Everything is easier than I thought, and look, miracles everywhere. Ha, this doesn’t require my input! My business is thriving happily without me. I think like a dancer. It’s so perfect it turned out like this. Past me is a GENIUS. I have what I need, and appreciate it. I am fearless and confident. I state my preferences clearly, calmly and easily, no big deal. I am ready to come into my superpowers and receive.
Progress report on past Very Personal Ads.
So. Last week aka it’s a shed…
I wanted gentle releasing in the form of shedding, and I wanted to learn more about sheds that are houses and containers, and I got both.
This week involved much letting go of previous ideas and plans, and being wonderfully surprised by new possibilities.
And another reminder that our Fi needs support with the surgery for her sweet dog Molly, help if you can or spread the word!
Attenzione! Attention, AGENTS.
I believe the Playground mugs are all sold but you can still acquire a pack of stone skipping cards just send a note and we’ll set it up. Ask Richard for cost/shipping.
Keep me company! Or just say hi!
This is an open invitation to deposit wishes, gwishes, personal ads, superpowers, qualities, 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
Chicken 359: the Katy Perry School of Packing
It is Friday and we are here.
{a breath for Friday, for this space, and for being here when we get here.}
What worked this week?
The Katy Perry School of Packing.
I have obscene amounts of packing-related anxiety, and so many related monsters it’s like a monster family reunion, or possibly a very crowded monster wedding.
The bride’s side is all about Why Can’t You Just Do It Already It Will Take Five Minutes, and the groom’s side is You Will Never Be Ready In Time And You Won’t Have What You Need And This Is A Disaster. And then I just hide in bed and read everything on the internet until it is almost too late.
This time I invented a game called I studied at the Katy Perry School of Packing:
What Would Katy Perry Do? And how much can I pack in an hour while listening to Katy Perry and invoking her superpowers?
Among the principles of the Katy Perry School of Packing:
- The speedier the packing, the more time you have for a calming bubble bath so you arrive non-frazzled at the airport.
- No matter how bizarre and unlikely your haphazardly selected clothing choices might be, people will assume they’re intentional, so just pack whatever. YOU ARE A FASHION ICON and a GIANT WEIRDO, and these things can go together.
- Unless you have some sexy skinny-muscular back-up dancer boys in black pants and white undershirts and possibly suspenders accompanying you to carry your bags, remove some items and then keep removing more items until you are sure your shoulders won’t hurt from carrying them. You need your shoulders to dance, girl.
Next time I might…
Remember that rest is kind of like a full time job.
I tried to hurry recovery, and that backfired, surprise!
Eight breaths for the hard, challenging and mysterious.
- Releasing is hard, you guys. And so much is changing. Some of it is good, some of it is hard, all of it is shaking things up. And all this shedding. It is rough. A breath for presence, trust, ease, finding comfort, breathing into the adventure.
- I am exhausted. Beyond exhausted. There is big healing happening in my body, and it is work, and it is challenging. I can do one thing (laundry? a shower? groceries?) and then I’m done for that day. I miss being outdoors. I miss moving my body. I miss having the desire to do anything other than crash. Also, remember when I thought sabbatical time would mean wild self-expression and creative flourishing? It’s really mostly breakdowns, crises, laundry. And I don’t even have energy for that. I’ve dealt with worse in the past, both in terms of chronic pain and chronic fatigue, but of course there is also lots of monstering about What If Now Turns Out To Be Just Like Then. Another breath for rest, and for remembering truth: now is not then.
- I said okay fine to something when I knew my real answer was ABSOLUTELY NOT — UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES. And then — surprise! — I was miserably unhappy. And, of course, like with all people-pleasing attempts, no one ended up happy. I felt resentful towards the person who had not understood the urgency of my situation and suggested the thing that was a No, and I felt upset with myself for the Reluctant Yes, and furious that not only had I chosen Noble Suffering but it of course had turned out to be Wildly Unnecessary. And I felt frustrated when the thing I thought would be blessedly over in fifteen minutes turned into nearly ninety minutes. How about we learn the lesson this time, my love. A breath for honoring the truth I can feel in my body, for being the person who hears the no and says the no, with sweetness and with love, may I learn how to do this gracefully, and if I can’t do it gracefully, may I do it anyway.
- Got upset with my lover for the first time since we met. This never happens. A breath for remembering that everything is a misunderstanding, and then reverse-engineering.
- Holy god it is hot in Utah, and even hotter in the camper, and it is muggy and sticky, and there is no air conditioning and everything seems harder than it should be. A breath for cool breezes, and for sweet rain.
- My sweet stressed-out lover had to work late this week, and by late, I mean between four and six in the morning. So really right now it’s less of a road trip with my lover and more like I happen to share nine feet of space with a random person whom I find very attractive. A breath for new cycles and getting on the same schedule.
- I was feeling excited and hopeful about a thing, and now isn’t the time and I want now to be the time, and I would like some good news please. A breath for finding the good in everything.
- 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.
- Releasing is potent stuff. A breath for astonishing things, and for recovery.
- I received WONDERFUL and VERY REASSURING test results: the thing I am dealing with is tiny, relatively common, benign. It is not any of the horrible debilitating diagnoses my monsters were loudly betting on. A breath of relief and deep, deep gratitude.
- My monsters were wrong! They were so completely wrong about everything this week! A breath for trusting the quiet steady voice of wisest me.
- Much less pain this week. So much so that it’s kind of shocking. It is amazing what a cheerful person I am when things don’t hurt. And food tastes good again. A breath for miracles.
- My lover is sweet, kind, warm, steady, loving, accepting. I feel such exquisite tenderness and vulnerability and trust, and without the accompanying oh god this is so uncomfortable part. A breath for joyful smiling, tears, gratitude, steaminess, wonder, passion, aliveness, all of it.
- I said this last week and it is still true: being only able to accomplish one thing a day, while frustrating, is not a bad way of being. A breath for rest and more rest and living the mission of Shmita.
- I made roasted red peppers and am so happy. I made a delicious mushroom soup. This process of removing plastic from my life, cooking from raw ingredients, and not generating trash is rewarding in ways I hadn’t expected — I did not think I would enjoy making things as much as I do. A breath for what if the thing I know is right can also turn into the thing I happen to find pleasurable.
- Thankfulness. So much is good. Friends who rejoice in my good news. The sweet and thoughtful people who read this blog. Finding what I need when I need it. 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!
I took care of myself this week AND made soup, and I am going to call that a successful mission and award myself a billion sparklepoints. Wham Boom.
Superpowers I had this week…
I had the superpower of knowing what my yes is. Even when I didn’t act on it. I knew.
And I had the superpower of remembering that often what I think is bad news turns out to be really useful and even good.
Last week I asked for the superpower of Things Can Change For The Better Faster Than I Think, and got it IN SPADES. Thank you.
Powers I want.
I want, again, the superpower of I Trust Myself And My Body Completely, and the superpower of Oh Look The Perfect Door.
The Salve of Deep Guilt-Free Rest.
This salve erases all the scripts that say things like “I don’t even know why I’m so tired” and “It doesn’t make sense that I just want to rest”, and replaces them with PERMISSION, LEGITIMACY and ENDLESS SWEETNESS.
It dissolves all inherited social, cultural and familial guilt lines. It is a beautiful softening: I can let this go, I can put this down, I can close my eyes and let all the thought-worries drain into the earth.
This salve is wildly subversive, and I recommend using it in outrageous quantities. Put it on everything. It works great as a lip balm too.
Playing live at the meme beach house — the Fake Band of the Week!
This week’s band is Too Busy To Talk. Their latest album is called Side Eye On The Side. They play harmonica and tambourine, and actually it’s just one guy.
And my upcoming Biopic…
Crises About Laundry. The Havi Brooks Story.
Attenzione! Attention, AGENTS.
I am recommending the Emergency Get Calm, Quiet And Steady techniques, aka the thing that keeps me from falling apart.
Come play if you like…
Join me in the comments. You are welcome to take a breath, share something from your week, leave warmth or hearts, whatever works for you. 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.
p.s. It’s fine if it’s not Friday anymore. There’s complete chicken amnesty — join in whenever you like. Blowing kisses to the Beloved Lurkers too!
Wish 309: It’s a shed
Personal ads. They’re … personal! Very.
♡
A word.
Yesterday I woke up with a word. I blinked. It was still there.
I hadn’t gone to bed with it.
It isn’t a word I have a previous connection with.
It was just there, tucked into the palm of my hand, glowing in the center of my head.
I tasted it. I wrote it down and tried to hear it, and it was funny, like when you repeat something until it loses all meaning, just improbable sounds.
And then I understood and laughed.
A week ago.
Exactly a week ago, I made a wish called Releasing Wishes, and it was about releasing and also about double meanings. And now?
Now I have this word: SHED.
To shed is to release. A shed is also a structure, a container, or a tiny home.
It was perfect and hilarious. I’d asked for releasing and double meanings, and was hand-delivered a clue about releasing, in the form of a double meaning.
A verb and a noun.
It is a very small and very funny word.
Let’s investigate…
Tell me about the shed. What do I know about shedding?
Shedding is what snakes do.
It is [release] + [metamorphosis].
It is uncovering and letting go and allowing a transformation.
I roasted red peppers this morning in the hot camper. Everything was steamy: me, the peppers, the truck baking in the Utah sun.
When I pulled them out of the oven, the charred, blackened skins of the peppers seemed like they were glued on. But then a little tug at an edge, the pepper gives a little sigh, gives way, the casing slides off into my olive-oil coated hands.
That is shedding.
What do I know about sheds?
Yesterday I experienced the most powerful, cathartic, overpowering experience of [RELEASE] of my entire life, beyond anything I knew was possible.
Also the first that wasn’t centered in sex or death or loss.
In the afternoon, a very intense body treatment, in a very intense space, on a very intense table. It was ninety minutes of remarkable visions, received in sparkling clarity, and maybe I will share those with you some time.
In the evening, my lover and I were watching a movie. It was a movie about baseball (I love movies about baseball), and it didn’t seem like it would have anything triggering in it, but I read a couple synopses online just in case, and they neglected to mention some very pertinent intel.
It had an abuse scene, and the scene took place IN A SHED, I am realizing now, and I can’t tell you what happened in the scene because the second it began, I was launching myself into the air, landing in child’s pose, howling and wailing, shrieking, whimpering, hyperventilating.
It lasted for hours.
I made sounds I have never made before, never heard anyone make before, did not know were possible to make. I raged sound until my throat was raw and ragged, and well beyond that.
There weren’t thoughts involved in the process, other than this:
“I want to run away. I don’t want to feel this. I cannot handle this much feeling. No one should have to feel this.”
And the steady voice of slightly wiser me: “I’m here, love. Presence.”
Running.
I wanted so badly to run away.
And if I hadn’t been in my underwear in a camper in a parking lot across from a mexican restaurant at night, I probably would have. I wanted to run forever.
I knew the answer was BE PRESENT AND BREATHE, and my god I wanted to run. I didn’t want to feel these overpowering feelings, this potency of sensation, this vomiting of emotion.
How do you process the bursting of a dam you hadn’t even known existed. There was no way I could have prepared for this. Upheaval. Sorrow and grief and raging pain.
Prickling.
I sobbed my heart out in child’s pose for an hour, at least, when I finally moved (to flop onto my belly and continue sobbing into the sheets), both my legs were completely asleep. For the longest time I couldn’t feel them at all, then pins and needles forever.
There was gratitude in that too: the prickling felt like life: remembering that this too shall pass, and sooner rather than later.
An author I know likes to say that the only way out is through, and while I don’t at all believe this is necessarily always the case, this was the right time for believing that.
Through. Through. Through.
I was coming through it, somehow, in a spectacular shedding of what felt like everything. There was a through. There was a way to come out on the other side.
Quiet.
My lover positioned himself beside me, at a slight distance, warm hand on the small of my back, not saying a word, while these agonized sounds released from my body.
He is good at radiating safety, and at not needing explanations, and both of those things are treasure.
A couple hours passed before the storms quieted, and I was able to open my eyes again. The camper was pitch black. My lover pulled a blanket over me and kissed my cheek.
I have never fallen apart like this before, nothing even remotely close, and I wonder if in part it’s because I have never been able to trust that someone could witness it without needing anything from me: words, reassurance that I’m okay, some sort of sign of life….
Morning.
This morning the mysterious pain I’ve been carrying for the past month was gone.
That is not to say that it is gone for good, who can know that. But generally the mornings are hardest, and today there has not even been a sign of it.
I don’t know what happened in the rest of the movie, and I don’t need to know. I am assuming a happy ending for all. I am assuming a happy ending for me.
What is my wish?
Last week, I wished for releasing.
Yesterday, I received the word SHED, and I received a releasing (floodgates!) that was beyond anything I could have imagined possible.
So now I wish for a gentle, sweet, smooth shed. Like the skin of the red pepper sliding gracefully into my palm.
And I wish to play with this concept of shed, in both senses. Letting go of pieces of identity. Letting go of the outer casing. Tiny houses and earth-ships. Safe rooms.
A shed doesn’t have to be a creepy place like in the film. A shed can be cozy, safe, sweet, welcoming.
What else do I know about this?
Wishing is amazing. Wishing is enough.
I seeded releasing, and I received shed. I am seeding shed (and gentleness!), and who knows what beautiful and surprising things will reveal themselves when I pay attention.
Anything else?
Something emerged from this big releasing and it has to do with writing.
Writing is my biggest form of releasing and it is how I process being alive, and you have probably already noticed this.
Not-working is doing big healing magic for me right now, except I have to figure out how to cover some costs for me and the business, and realized yesterday I could write something I really want to write anyway, and make it available for sale to help support this Shmita/releasing time.
You are welcome and invited to cast a vote in favor of one of the possibilities which are sparking for me at the moment. I’m not taking new topic suggestions but if you like any of these, let me know!
- The Fluent Self Sleep book. A playful manual of self-investigation for healing and working with various challenges and mysteries related to sleep: falling asleep, peaceful dreams, waking feeling rested and peaceful.
- The Book of Yes. My journal from Operation True Yes, where I ask the question “What do I want?” as many times as it needs to be asked. On living by yes.
- Fluency & Self-Fluency. I originally started this business to help people learn languages quickly by using self-fluency techniques. This has been re-surfacing.
- Eight Stories. From my life. On a theme. Like VERY long, extremely personal blog posts, except with the stuff I don’t share on the blog, and more in-depth process.
Now.
I am in a supermarket, watching a guy buy a giant basil plant, and wishing I had a garden.
Presumably it would also come with a garden shed.
Me: Hey, slightly-wiser me, what do you have for me?
She: You have so many allies in releasing. The mountains. Words. Clues. People who love you and support you.
Me: That is very interesting, I think of this as such a solitary endeavor.
She: It isn’t. You are held in love.
Clues?
I just looked up and saw the words THANK YOU in large letters above the door. This is my fourth time in here this week, and I only just noticed.
The superpower of I am stronger than I think.
The quality for May was REVERBERATE, and it comes with I take care of myself first. Now we are in June: RELEASE MORE, with the quality of I am stronger than I think.
Apparently being stronger than I think is what allowed me to break down completely.
Strength is a wonderful companion to releasing and to vulnerability.
Things I find helpful for intentions and wishes…
Adventure. Rest. Horizons. Security. Passion. Sweetness. Clarity. Presence.
Ongoing wishes.
Everything is easier than I thought, and look, miracles everywhere. Ha, this doesn’t require my input! My business is thriving happily without me. I think like a dancer. It’s so perfect it turned out like this. Past me is a GENIUS. I have what I need, and appreciate it. I am fearless and confident. I state my preferences clearly, calmly and easily, no big deal. I am ready to come into my superpowers and receive.
Progress report on past Very Personal Ads.
So. Last week aka releasing wishes…
I try to never say the phrase “be careful what you wish for”, because it gets on my nerves: we already have enough reasons to keep ourselves from wishing.
So I will just say that I received an ABUNDANCE of releasing, and I am glad for it, and now I am planting some gentleness for the next round.
Also wanted to mention that our Fi has been raising funds for surgery for her sweet dog Molly, help if you can or spread the word!
Attenzione! Attention, AGENTS.
I believe the Playground mugs are all sold but you can still acquire a pack of stone skipping cards just send a note and we’ll set it up. Ask Richard for cost/shipping.
Keep me company! Or just say hi!
This is an open invitation to deposit wishes, gwishes, personal ads, superpowers, qualities, 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
Chicken 358: We are here.
It is a day and we are here.
A lot has been going on for me, so this is the latest chicken in three hundred and fifty eight weeks of chicken, and my internal scientists need to remind my monsters about all the evidence they are collecting in favor of All Timing Is Right Timing.
So I’m taking a few breaths to fill up on the superpower of There Is Actually No Such Thing As A Late Chicken Because Whenever It Shows Up Is Right On Time.
{a breath for this space, and for being here when we get here.}
What worked this week?
Eight breaths.
When I remember to do this, everything is better.
Also the phrase “I trust my good intentions”, which is generally my mantra in situations where I fear misunderstandings. This served me well.
Next time I might…
Remember that if it’s not a yes, it’s a no.
This concept was the theme of the week.
It’s something I was pretty sure I already lived by, and often say to other people, and a bunch of people had to say it to me this week.
And it has become clear that I actually live by “If it’s not a loud no, then okay, fine”, which is not the same thing.
Eight breaths for the hard, challenging and mysterious.
- This week was just really, really hard for me in so many different ways. A breath for release: we’re here, we made it, we’re done. And a dozen roses for me and for all the other actors in this play of being alive.
- Most of this week was spent dealing with Mystery Physical Ailment and pain management, as well as the fear that the rest of my life is going to be about this. A breath for peaceful presence, and for trust that whatever is going on, I am safe and loved.
- Procedures, tests and pre-emptive anxiety. And people in my life being in their stuff related to this, and taking it out on me. A breath for rewriting old patterns and remembering that things are different now.
- Waiting for test results. A breath for this.
- Not remembering how to want to go to sleep, due to all of the above, and staying up until four in the morning. A breath for meeting myself with love.
- Missing my lover. A breath for presence.
- Both being ill and the process of recovery mean that all the body’s energy goes to that, so you can’t really add anything on top of that or it’s massive fatigue. A breath for rest, and for trusting my wise body to do what it needs to do.
- 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.
- I am so fortunate to have generous, sweet, loving people in my life. Richard took me to all my appointments so I didn’t have to be alone. Kyle gave me middle-of-the-night medical counseling when I was panicking. Marisa took me out to lunch and distracted me with stories. Danielle and Briana and Agent Annabelle texted me reassuring things. A breath of deep gratitude.
- I had remarkable good fortune with medical professionals this week everywhere I went. A receptionist who was willing to fight red tape for me and combine two appointments at once even though that was against the rules. A warm, friendly nurse, a helpful pharmacist, a wonderfully calm and patient technician, and two different doctors who were good listeners. One of them said he wished all of his patients were like me. A breath for what a big deal this is.
- Two wildly transformative healing sessions with Dr. Cornelius, who in addition to being a dear friend and a Rally buddy, is also a wise and deeply gifted healer. After seeing her the first time, I got to experience EIGHTEEN HOURS without pain, which was incredible, and the techniques she gave me are helping me so much with both the physical and emotional sides of this experience. If you are in Portland or plan to visit Portland, and you have (or have had) female body parts, go to see her. Even if nothing is wrong with said body parts or any body parts. Just go see her. A breath for miracles.
- It felt good to be at home, to take baths and walk in the rose garden and wash my hair and use lots of counter space, and all the things that are the opposite of living in a camper, even though I love living in a camper. A breath for contrasts, and for the magic of bath time.
- Not doing much of anything is not a bad thing. A breath for learning more and more about rest and releasing and Shmita.
- I gave myself blanket forgiveness/permission for being too worked up to sleep, and it worked like a charm. The resistance disappeared, along with the monsters, and the frightened animal that is my body was able to soften into a deep tranquility.
- Back in my lover’s arms Friday night. We are in Salt Lake City now. A breath for these big smiles.
- Thankfulness. So much is good. I made some DIY hair treatments that are better than anything I’ve ever bought from a store/salon. And sugar-free dairy-free ice cream that was the perfect comfort. The Plastic Free book by Beth Terry is terrific and inspiring. I have time, I have resources, I’m going to figure this out. 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!
I was brave this week and set up appointments and went to them and breathed and asked for help on Twitter and shared my thoughts and feelings, and I am going to call that a successful mission and award myself a billion sparklepoints. Wham Boom.
Superpowers I had this week…
I had the superpower of Naming All The Superpowers I Could Think Of, which was surprisingly helpful.
Among these superpowers I asked for were I Find Calming Things All Around Me, as well as Piscean Superpowers and Play Is Everywhere. And while I was having an uncomfortable ultrasound, I looked up to see a mobile above me.
I had not realized how calming mobiles are. Not even sure why we only use them for infants. Mobiles. It had fish and a seahorse, and it made everything better.
Powers I want.
I want the superpower of I Trust Myself And My Body Completely, and the superpower of Surprisingly Well Rested and the superpower of Things Can Change For The Better Faster Than I Think, and the related superpower of Releasing Assumptions.
The Salve of Things Can Change For The Better Faster Than I Think
This salve somehow manages to be both cooling and warming at the same time, I’m not even sure how.
As it seeps into my skin, I feel a deep, steady, luscious sense of calm. There is a slight spring breeze, as if all the doors of Things That Are Possible And Good And I Forgot To Consider That These Might Be Options have opened themselves.
The body lives in right now, which is great for some things, and not great for remembering that actually, things are not always going to be like this. This salve takes care of that: it restores trust, peacefulness, hope, and the willingness to see solutions that weren’t there before.
It smells delicious, and brings sweet surprises in all aspects of your life.
Playing live at the meme beach house — the Fake Band of the Week!
This week’s band comes to us by way of autocorrect, who does not believe that cooking is something I do, even though it is. The band is called Coping and Cleaning. Their latest album is called Uh Oh. They are a hick hop band (it’s a thing), and actually it’s just one guy.
And my upcoming Biopic…
On My Face. The Havi Brooks Story.
Attenzione! Attention, AGENTS.
I am recommending the Emergency Get Calm, Quiet And Steady techniques, aka the thing that keeps me from falling apart.
Come play if you like…
Join me in the comments. You are welcome to take a breath, share something from your week, leave warmth or hearts, whatever works for you. 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.
p.s. It’s fine if it’s not Friday anymore. There’s complete chicken amnesty — join in whenever you like. Blowing kisses to the Beloved Lurkers too!