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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…

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

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.

1. 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.
2. 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.
3. 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.
4. Waiting for test results. A breath for this.
5. 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.
6. Missing my lover. A breath for presence.
7. 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.
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 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.
2. 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.
3. 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.
4. 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.
5. Not doing much of anything is not a bad thing. A breath for learning more and more about rest and releasing and Shmita.
6. 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.
7. Back in my lover’s arms Friday night. We are in Salt Lake City now. A breath for these big smiles.
8. 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!