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.
Chicken 357: why is the world, and so many other mysteries
It is Friday and we are here.
{a breath for Friday, and for being here when we get here.}
What worked this week?
Asking people who know.
I’ve been off gluten for fourteen months, but as far as I can remember, partaking in gluten usually just results in feeling sluggish and headachey.
This week, I had an ongoing health crisis, and wasn’t sure how much of what I was experiencing might be gluten-poisoning-related.
Texting Julie made everything better. She confirmed that my symptoms were EXACTLY what she goes through when she gets stealth-glutened, and hearing this took the edge off of my Oh Shit What Is Happening To Me panic.
Next time I might…
Say no when I don’t have a yes.
Not sure why I have to keep learning this.
Or why I keep dismissing it in the face of Logic — well, we traveled X hours and paid Y sum of money so we might as well do this thing that we know we don’t want to do.
No more. Let go, let go, let go.
Eight breaths for the hard, challenging and mysterious.
- A perfect storm of health issues, with stealth-gluten being just one of many pieces resulting in a very unhappy and uncomfortable Havi. And a wildly complicated bureaucratic nightmare trying to get help with them. A breath for trust and for healing.
- Much panic regarding the above. It isn’t helpful, but there it is. A breath for presence.
- Exhaustion due to both of the above. Even by the time I was mostly back to functional after seven days of hard, a five minute “workout” knocked me out completely. A breath for this.
- Why is the world. Oh, I don’t even know how to finish that sentence. After Memorial Day we stayed in the forest, and it was completely trashed. Just awful to see. Or the news that France’s parliament has voted to forbid big supermarkets from destroying unsold food, encouraging them to donate to charities or farms instead, as part of a national campaign against food waste.This is GOOD news, obviously. And yet, why do we still live in a world where supermarkets destroy their food — or worse, put bleach on it so hungry people can’t take it from their dumpsters. Why is not giving it to charities and feeding the hungry THE AUTOMATIC SOLUTION. Why do we live in such a terrible way that this kind of thinking, doing the right thing, is innovative. My heart aches for the world. It just hurts. A breath for healing.
- Perceiving distance when I crave closeness. A theme. A breath for turning inward and being close with myself.
- Being in pain (even mild discomfort) just makes everything that much harder. Unsure about decisions. Unsure about everything. A breath for this.
- Oh, plans changing in big and small ways. Mostly big. Many mysteries, including the Mystery of How Did I Make Plans And Buy Plane Tickets But Get The Date Wrong By A Month, the Mystery of How Do I Learn To Treat Myself Like The Most Sensitive Deer, the Mystery of Loving Downstairs and healing Downstairs at the same time but in a way that works for me, and the Mystery of Releasing and More Releasing. The Mystery Of Ohmygod Literal Gunshots Right Outside The Business I Own In Portland. Oh, and the Mystery of Why Does Stomach Ease Tea Contain Gluten When Gluten Is Why I Need The Tea To Begin With. A breath for hidden solutions, and for trusting the process.
- 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.
- The worst symptoms have gotten better, pretty amazing to not be in constant pain. A breath for this.
- Leaving Fresno early and heading for the hills. A breath for how healing it is for me to be outdoors.
- Sleeping in the woods! I slept like a baby. Twelve hours each night. Peeking out of the camper skylight at night to see the big dipper right above us, waking up surrounded by green. A breath for joy.
- Oh the woods and the rocks and how good this feels. We went for a lovely hike at Courtright Reservoir, and a two and a half meandering wander through woods and meadows. We saw many, many deer. And a bird catching a fish. And it was just quiet and peaceful and just-us. A breath for all of this.
- Still loving Shmita with all of its challenges and wonder. A breath for easing and releasing
- A decision that feels yes landed at the right time. And then another one. A breath for hearing the yes.
- My wonderful friend the vicar calmed me down when I was panicking and gave me sound medical advice and took me seriously without taking my jewish-hypochondriac-monsters seriously. And he said the exact right thing at the exact right time: “I adore you, you’re in pain, you’re far away, it’s a crappy situation and I’m sorry”. Yes. That actually made everything easier. A breath for this, and for pain meds and for really bad puns and for comfort.
- Thankfulness. So much is good. Holding hands with my traveling companion and smiling like dorks. Roasted beets and potatoes and garlic in the camper. Fixed the soup by adding potato and sauteed mushrooms. Amye cheered me up at the exact right moment. Wrote a post because I felt like it. Said no to one adventure and yes to another one, because I am a grand adventuress. Everything is okay. Nothing is wrong. 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!
This was a week of magically using up all the food in the fridge, good writing, good thinking, good processing. Thank you, Mission of Less, and fractal flowers, thank you Shmita, thank you Switch/Swoop. Wham Boom.
Superpowers I had this week…
I had the superpower of Twelve Hours of Healing Sleep Every Night, and the superpower of remembering to Twizzledaddle (that’s what the boy calls spirals).
Powers I want.
Last week I asked for I Joyfully Avoid Things That Are Unnecessary, and oh how I want more of that. I would also like That Was A Great Decision, and some Glow Like A Pro.
The Salve of Joyfully Avoiding Things That Are Unnecessary.
This salve makes it easier to say no, and suddenly the no becomes kind of fun.
Sometimes you don’t even have to say it, you just radiate it, and you laugh, and everyone understands completely.
When I put this on my skin, I feel a light tingling sensation and then I am somehow giddy and grounded at the same time.
I walk around saying yes to my yes and joyfully avoiding all things that do not support me. They are gloriously unnecessary now, and I delight in not doing them.
This is a secret sovereignty salve and it glows like diamonds.
Playing live at the meme beach house — the Fake Band of the Week!
This week’s band comes from Richard and it’s called Soup Rescue, and it’s actually just one guy.
And my upcoming Biopic…
It Looks Like A Bowl. 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, and the only way I got through this week of pain, worry and doubt.
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!
Not my area.
Bells.
Sometimes someone says something very, very wise, and it is the exact right moment for you to hear it, and the words reverberate within you and around you like a singing bowl.
You are a bell and the words are bells and you bell together.
And then, later, you can re-hear the words or conjure them up in your mind, and it’s as if that bell is still ringing, still sending faint vibrations through the orbit of your life.
Sometimes so much is going on in the moment that you miss the original ringing, but it happens anyway, and then later you remember and you feel that circular hum around you, clearing everything out with quiet steady truth.
Sigal.
Many years ago, in Tel Aviv, I used to trek to Sigal’s house three times a week for yoga. And by “yoga”, I mean intense body-mind-spirit practice. And by “house”, I mean a small falling-apart shack by the sea.
We were a small, devoted group of oddballs, and Sigal was our intense recluse of a teacher. She lived yoga, and we lived to learn.
Occasionally someone would yelp during shavasana when a rat scampered over their leg, and maybe Sigal would yell at us when we weren’t getting a concept, and at times we would all collapse in laughter, but mostly my memories from this time are about the potency of the quiet: internal and external quiet.
It was the quiet that rang in me like a bell.
Sure, things were blowing up (literally and figuratively) in the city and in my life, but these times with Sigal were for deep tranquility, turning inward, softening and releasing.
Her classes would go about two and a half hours, with meditation, and then we’d all kind of pass out on the floor for a while and then gradually we would emerge from this bliss-state into a slightly more functional bliss-state, and then we would sit with her and drink mint tea and be quiet.
Talking.
Sometimes a new person would show up, and they would either be scared off by the intensity of it all or dive right in. Sometimes they liked to talk, a lot, and you’d wait for the quiet to reach them.
One day this young woman came, and at the end, sitting in a heap, huddled in blankets, steady breath, the steam rising from our tea, she started talking about cellulite, and she wouldn’t stop talking about it.
I wasn’t paying attention at first, because I was too deep in quiet-state, but at some point I looked up and suddenly we were all listening.
She was saying, “I really liked the practice, I liked how physical it was and also all the resting, that was really good, but my main goal right now, like I said, is to work on cellulite since I’m already in pretty good shape. Is this really going to help me with that or should I just stick with pilates?”
Not my area.
We all looked at each other.
Sigal answered, “That’s not my area.” She sounded bored.
“What do you mean? You’re a yoga teacher. How is that not your area?” the girl wanted to know.
Sigal’s eyes flashed. “I deal with cellulite of the mind. Brain-cellulite. But the body kind, that’s not my area, I don’t know about that and I don’t think about it. Not my area.”
That’s not my area. Back to breathing.
This is the phrase that reverberates when my monsters have something critical to say about my almost-forty-year-old body.
Thinking something is wrong with how my body looks, deciding that the container which houses my beautiful soul and allows me to move and breathe is somehow unattractive or not good enough because it doesn’t look like it did twenty years ago or because it doesn’t measure up to the fantasy world of magazine standards, believing all the invented external reasons to feel bad about myself…that’s cellulite of the mind.
Not being impressed by the monster-critique…that’s the real yoga. By which I mean: that’s presence. That’s the ringing bell of presence.
“Oh look, I’m worried about cellulite and other forms of not-truth again. That’s okay. I can let it go. It’s not my area.”
Back to breathing. Back to presence.
Presence.
Presence is my area. Noticing the internalized self-criticism is my area. Saying thank you to my body for everything it does for me is my area. Legitimacy and permission to feel bad about myself if not liking myself is what’s temporarily true for me in the moment, because hey, we all have this intense cultural conditioning to unravel, that’s my area too.
Everything that falls into the category of “how can I take better care of myself, with as much love as I can manage”, that is my area.
Everything that falls into the category of “oh here’s another bullshit thing that is supposedly wrong with me”, that’s not my area. Unless I want to try to heal what’s behind that, because that takes me back to things which are my area.
Last week.
Every once in a while I make the mistake of reading stuff on Facebook, speaking of things that are not my area, and last week I saw that someone I vaguely know, a YOGA TEACHER of all people, had posted something about cellulite.
Specifically, it was a photo of a young, thin, white, tanned, toned, able-bodied woman with flawless skin and a phenomenal body (by current cultural standards), and she was pinching her butt, for no apparent reason, since, in this photoshopped picture, there was nothing for her to even theoretically object to.
The statement on this, from, again, AN ACTUAL YOGA TEACHER, a dude, was this: “Every woman hates to have cellulite! Those hideous looking fat deposits…”
I don’t remember the rest. I asked if his account had been hacked, and added that while not all woman necessarily hate to have cellulite, all the women (aka people) I know hate to be told that something about them is hideous.
He didn’t respond, and I unfollowed, because life is short and I have enough brain-cellulite and internal criticism of my own to explore without needing to see more external reminders of Things That Are Not Truth.
What is my area and what is not my area.
My area:
- Noticing my thoughts and feelings without letting them define me, without thinking that they are the whole of my existence.
- Permission and legitimacy to be where I’m at in the moment. This is me, this is my stuff, this is my pain, this is what I am experiencing right now.
- Cultivating an environment that supports my quiet knowing of truth, my bell state. And if that means removing people/situations/experiences that are not bell-friendly, so be it.
- Trusting that new people will come into my life who share my mission, it is safe to let people go.
- A body relationship based on trust, listening, support, caring and love.
- Breathing.
- Asking “what is true and what’s also true“.
- Creating my own culture, surrounding myself with reminders of what how I want to live.
- Talking things out with my monsters, and coloring together.
- Remembering that there is a huge difference between what yoga means to me (the gentle art and science of getting quiet enough to hear who I am, what I need, how to take care of myself and meet myself with love), and what yoga means to a lot of other people (pink leotards, a thing someone might do at the gym, handstands, stretching). Apply translation as necessary.
Not my area:
- Comparison.
- Trying to “fix” myself.
- Participating in a surrounding culture which values self-“improvement” and pushing past limits, and devalues listening to my body or trusting internal wisdom.
Words that are like bells.
It’s helpful for me to have these reminders of truth, these words that are like bells:
Not My Area. Now Is Not Then. Nothing Is Wrong. Not My Bus.*
If I can’t remember truth, a song will work too.
At Rally (Rally!), we used to sing sea shanties every night.
Singing is calming, steadying. It reverberates. It changes internal space (in your body, in your mind) and external space (in the room).
And sea shanties have a repetitive chorus, which means they work like secret mantras: they replace the things repeating in your head with something that rings at a different vibration, a different frequency.
So if my normal headspace is choppy, jumping from worry-thought to worry-thought in an endless loop: “He said X, and I should have said Y, and oh no what if everyone hates me, and how am I ever going to achieve Z if I don’t take care of A, B, and C, and what if people figure out that I’m no good at anything, and ugh, everything is a disaster…”
Replacing it with something else that is equally repetitive but less zappy — something steadier, a better loop — brings me back to quiet, presence, the ringing bell of truth.
Of the mind.
This is what I try to remember each time I get sucked back into things the bigger culture thinks are important.
Things like cellulite or imaginary numbers on scales or defining what I do for a living or business models and deadlines and accomplishments and “get things done” and “do epic shit” (because otherwise if we aren’t doing things — meaningful things — every second we are apparently wasting our lives?) and all the ceaseless pressure that comes along with this.
This is not my area. Or at least, it doesn’t have to be. I can choose my area.
And right now I choose being a bell. A reverberating bell of remembering.
Comments! Aka come play with me!
You are invited to share things sparked for you while reading.
Or you can delight in saying NOT MY AREA to anything that is not your area! It’s surprisingly fun. Or ring a bell. That’s fun too.
I’d also love to hear other phrases that work like bells for you, or anything useful you’ve received from this site (concepts, phrases, reminders) which do this for you.
As always, we all have our stuff. We all have stuff and we’re all working on it, at our own time and pace. It’s a process.
We make safe space for this, and for each other, and we support this sweet corner of the internet by not giving each other advice, not analyzing each other, not telling people what they should try or how they should feel. We meet ourselves and each other with warmth and sweetness. We practice.
Love, as always, to the commenters, the Beloved Lurkers, and everyone who reads. And bells.
Wish 307: State of Emergence
Personal ads. They’re … personal! Very.
♡
Time to declare a State Of Emergence E.
Is it that time?
Oh, it is very much that time.
My body hurts, my head aches, my heart is unsure, my yes is lost, it’s a million (approximately) degrees outside, and while Wisest Me knows that of course Nothing Is Wrong, everything feels wrong.
This is useful, this is important, and it’s time for a State of Emergence. E!
What is E?
I’m not actually sure.
Ease, maybe. Effortlessness. Effervescence. Entry.
Things that have to do with lightness and intention. Things that are buoyant and transformative. Or at least, that’s my best guess.
Unless of course, E stands for Emergence as well. In which case we are declaring an emergency state of Emergence-Emergence! Which is okay by me.
Wh knows, maybe desperate times call for double measures, double cocoons, double chrysalis, double emergence. Emergence squared. Maybe.
What is a State of Emergence E?
Well, everything is off, like I said, and it’s scary, and urgent self-care is needed in the biggest way, and I really don’t like the word “emergency” because it makes me panic.
And panic is pretty much the least helpful thing right now. Panic is basically guaranteed to make everything worse.
Also panic is not good for when changes are called for. Change requires a softening, it requires ease. And E’s.
Huh.
So a State of Emergence (E) really means “things need to change, and they need to change in a way that feels safe”?
Yes. I guess it does.
What needs to change?
Body has been freaking out for five days. Working theory is that we got glutened in Sonora. (Why do not-good things keep happening in Sonora? That is a mystery for another day.)
But it’s probably a combination of factors.
That wasn’t the question though. Okay. Let’s see. What needs to change.
I need to be out of urban/suburban spaces and back in the beautiful, quiet and peaceful outdoors.
I need to stop saying Reluctant Yes to things that are really only Not-Completely-No, which as we already know, might as well be No. When I go with the Reluctant Yes, everything gets really uncomfortable fast.
Also I need to stay as far away as possible from reading depressing and distressing things on the internet, because right now I am taking on all the pain of the world even though that is Not My Job.
Mainly I need to get out of Fresno, speaking of Reluctant Yeses and Immediate Regret.
And what is regret if not a whispered wish in my sails: Change course, my love, this no can direct you towards yes.
What will help me in this state of Emergence (E)?
Huh.
Ginger tea.
Twelve hours of sleep.
A long bath.
To look at water or trees or water and trees.
To write to my body.
To write on my body.
Sage.
To look at the moon for a very long time.
Olympic levels of snuggling.
What else supports Emergence (E)?
Trust. Long, slow, deep breaths. Staying hydrated.
Conversations with people I love about how I want to live, and making tiny changes and adjustments towards that.
Making up old Turkish lady yoga poses.
Buffers. Napping. Even more time away from people (aka No More Socialize!).
What do I want to emerge from this state of Emergence (E)?
Acknowledgment that something is very off, and that this is good intel. Something needs to shift, steps need to be taken, this is an edge before an edge. Time to go back to taking exquisite care of myself.
And, at the same time, gentleness, reassurance, sweetness, permission, amnesty, legitimacy. There are reasons for this grand and glorious falling apart, even if I can’t remember what they are.
And comfort. I want to be comforted in the absence of whatever it is that is missing.
This feels like big loss, big grieving loss, like death, and I don’t know what is dying. So sweetness and comfort for every part of me who has ever experienced loss. Now Is Not Then.
This is a new letting go. You are okay, my love. You are held in this experience.
What else will help?
Get a massage. Investigate the mysteries. Access intel from Wisest Me.
What happens when I emerge?
I am:
More present. More rested. I trust my yes. I notice clues.
What clues do I have right now?
About five minutes after I got to the park, my body stopped hurting. Well, the pain went from an 8 to a 2. That’s a big clue!
Looking up at a tree from the ground slows my breath and steadies my mind. That is also a big clue.
Now.
I have my giant mug of ginger tea. A sparkly wristband from the dance I never ended up attending, which is probably a good thing.
Sleeping in the middle of the woods tonight, which is so much better than downtown Fresno, with the accompanying car alarms, drunks, motorcycles and early morning leaf blowers. State of Emergence (E!) was the right move.
E is also for emptying, and that feels like truth right now.
Me: Hey, slightly-wiser me, what do you have for me?
She: Emergence is a wonderful thing for someone who is finding her way back to yes.
Me: But what if my monsters are right and something is Horribly Wrong with me?
She: Hmm. Let’s see. 75 days ago, you left your home and your work and your life in order to wander the west with a boy whose plans change about every five minutes, and you’re figuring out what you want to do with your life, and this is all very big and confusing and a wild adventure, and then you did a bunch of No (for you, right now) things like gluten and cities, and you’re surprised when things fall apart? Of course things are going to fall apart. This is the most natural and normal thing that could be happening right now, and you are meeting it in the exact right way.
Me: Are you sure?
She: You love the edges, babe. And then you get to them and you want comfort and reassurance and steady anchors. Both of these are understandable and legitimate desires, and you have the tools you need to find your way through this.
Clues?
I wanted ginger in a form other than tea, but I didn’t have. Then we drove up a winding road with many bumps and giant troughs, and when we arrived and I opened the refrigerator, I discovered that the soup I made yesterday had spilled everywhere.
I had to clean out the entire refrigerator and every single thing in it, which is how I discovered that past me (who is a genius) had planted a bottle of ginger juice for this very moment. Thank you, past me!
The superpower of I take care of myself first.
The quality for May is REVERBERATE, and it comes with I take care of myself first.
Hilariously I have been resisting this superpower and everything related to it, and yet, what is this week’s wish?
What is a State of Emergence (E) if not a bold declaration that from now on I am going to take care of myself first. Guess things had to fall apart a bit for me to get there, but here I am. Hello, superpower. Please reverberate in me until we feel at home together.
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 Wish Balls Wish Bells…
So many wishes last week! Let’s see. I wanted my monsters to give me room to wish, and it worked. I wanted more time in airplane mode, and that happened too.
Still looking for delicious cheese or cheese-like recipe and am still looking. Will make paneer as soon as I am near the kind of hippie city where I can get milk in glass bottles. Ah, Portland, I do maybe kind of miss you.
Bulk food has been easier than expected, Access Secret Learning is going well, I wanted to be a bell in Fresno and what I learned is that I needed to not be there. But I was able to enjoy two dance workshops despite feeling awful, and that is something too.
The pole dancing wish is still planted. Ha. Planted a pole. Also had an insight about the cod liver oil which is that physical level treatments rarely work for me, and I need to approach from the emotional level.
Found someone else who is both anti-plastic and pro-corn-tortilla,and am now utterly obsessed with her gorgeous and thrilling no trash project blog.
And I wanted more Putterday, and this whole week has basically been one long putterday. Cooking, cleaning, messing about, good stuff.
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 356: the salve of last straws
It is Friday and we are here.
Did Friday come extra-fast this week or is this just the repercussions of the last chicken taking its sweet time to show up? I’m not sure.
{a breath for Friday, and for being here when we get here.}
What worked this week?
Trusting my instincts.
That is everything.
I don’t know why I forget this, but when I remember to pause and check in with myself, the intel is there.
Next time I might…
Say what I want in advance.
I’d been feeling pretty good about life without plastic and without generating trash, it’s been easier than I had expected to establish good habits, carrying cloth napkins and wooden cutlery in my bag.
Then we went out to eat with friends, and everyone received a glass of water with a straw in it. For some reason, this was, haha, the straw that broke a camel’s back?
What I meant to say is that as soon as the straws appeared, I just kind of went underwater. It was just this moment. It totally floored me, for reasons I can’t even explain. I wasn’t really there. I wasn’t hungry any longer, I couldn’t concentrate on the conversation happening around me. Just sitting there, stunned, thinking about how astonishing the whole thing is.
Why do we need a flimsy, plastic, disposable, single use item in order to drink water? Why would I even want to mediate the life-giving experience of water by experiencing it through a tube made from petroleum?
The straw is pre-opened too with only the top covered, so it doesn’t even matter if you refuse it. It goes into the ground whether you use it or not. I know it’s almost more of a symbol than anything else, and yet, there it is. This straw. I felt genuine grief and physical pain over this straw.
I hope very soon we will look back on plastic straws like doctors recommending brands of cigarettes. Only with more horror.
What’s even worse is that the straw is a freebie when it should really be the most expensive part of the meal. We should be paying earth rent on every straw.
Anyway, there is = more I want to say, but for now this: Any time I am not eating in the camper, I will — immediately upon entering the establishment in question — warmly and politely give advance notice that I don’t want any plastic. No straws, please.
Eight breaths for the hard, challenging and mysterious.
- The straw thing. Seriously. Still really feeling that and I don’t even know how to explain how or why it touched me so deeply. A breath for knowing that anything can be a door to making important changes, and if deep sorrow is my door right now, then that’s my door.
- Body is exhausted and on the verge of sick. A breath for rest and how much I need it.
- Inexplicable moodiness that was not hormones. Like, I felt IMPOSSIBLY SAD about having overcooked a rice dish. A breath for this.
- Prior to being in the dance world, I didn’t really have friends whose politics are very different than mine. Suddenly I am friends, both in the social media sense and in real life, with people whom I genuinely like, who also hold opinions that range from problematic to distressing to wildly bigoted. In the past, it would have been easy for me to just automatically cut ties, because it is not my job to explain to people, no matter how nice they are otherwise, how systemic racism or homophobia work. And now these are people I dance with. So now I find myself taking a breath and trying to find the kindest, clearest words for explaining what is okay and what is not okay. Or taking a breath and deciding that I am not going to read anything this person writes any more, but yeah, they’re in my life in some form. This is taxing, uncomfortable, disorienting, I am having a hard time with it. A breath for learning new ways of navigating the world, and for tough decisions.
- Santa Barbara. My god. I was just there two weeks ago. And the reactions, even worse. “We’re sorry this accident has happened, and we’re sorry for the inconvenience to the community.” WHAT. However many thousands of gallons of oil spilled, and that’s the apology? Let me edit that for you: We’re DEVASTATED this TRAVESTY has happened, and we’re TERRIBLY sorry for the TRAGEDY WE CAUSED to the community/WORLD”. That is the minimum acceptable level of remorse for this press conference bullshit. Inconvenient oil spill? Inconvenient? A breath for the ocean, for the coast, for Santa Barbara, for grace, for healing, for whatever is needed most.
- Not enough outdoors time even though that’s the whole point of Operation True Yes. We are out in these beautiful places and yet somehow much of this week was spent in suburban parking lots and pizza places. Also way too many early morning wake-up calls and not nearly enough sleep. A breath for knowing what I want, and making it not just a priority but my biggest priority.
- So I can only assume this is normal sabbatical crisis stuff, but my desire to do any work at all ever is zero, possibly below zero. Like, to the point that the only things I want to do in life are in the category of “nap, eat an omelet, nap again, go for a walk”. A breath for trusting that This Too Is Right.
- 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.
- My traveling companion is sweet and warm and kind-hearted and present with me, in all of my moods and moments. A breath for this, and for how much intense joy I feel when he smiles at me.
- Back in the gorgeous red hills. Walking in the evening with the beautiful boy. A breath for this.
- I made chili powder! It came out a thrilling vibrant red, with such smell and freshness and luscious ALIVENESS. I am never buying any from the store again. What joy. A breath for color and for making.
- Lots of cooking and baking this week, some experiments more successful than others, but this is what I wanted to be doing. A breath for making things with love.
- Being on Shmita is definitely one of the most fascinating, challenging, eye-opening things I have ever done. I am finally beginning to understand why I resisted this for so long. A breath for emptying, releasing, letting go, opening up.
- Much more clarity about what is yes and what is no. A breath for quiet trust.
- It is very easy for me to look at all the things that aren’t working (or, really, things I perceive are not working), and yet look at the beautiful flowers in the magical hills, this amazing adventure, this love in my heart, this body which walks and breathes, the seven years of this website, this boy who squeezes my hand, miracles of all sizes everywhere I look. A breath for remembering.
- Thankfulness. So much is good. Texting with Agent Annabelle. Reading everyone’s wonderful wishes on the Very Personal Ads. Loving the community here and the people in the fluent self orbit. Found my missing sunglasses. I am a grand adventuress. Everything is okay. Nothing is wrong. 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!
This was a week of research and investigating, and percolating. Also I finally used up that box of gluten-free pasta and made a delicious casserole, so there. Thank you, Mission of Less, and fractal flowers, thank you Shmita, thank you Switch/Swoop. Wham Boom.
Superpowers I had this week…
I had the superpower of staying in bed, the superpower of Leaving In The Moment That I Am Done, and the superpower of speaking truth.
Powers I want.
I want more Fearless Boundary-Setting. And some Deep Intense Self-Trust. And how about some more I Joyfully Avoid Things That Are Unnecessary.
The Salve of Last Straws.
This salve facilitates all moments of saying — and knowing — Enough Is Enough.
When I wear this salve, I feel steady, peaceful, glowing, beautifully anchored in life.
And then, swiftly and surprisingly easily, behind the scenes, everything begins to shift to accommodate this.
Toxic relationships dissolve, patterns unravel, new shapes and forms configure and reconfigure to meet this.
I am done with everything that does not serve me. These things are already done, they’re over, they’re leaving.
This salve is remarkably placid. No whirlwinds necessary. When I wear this salve, I remember that all my feelings are legitimate, and also I can make changes without a lot of emotion attached to it.
It isn’t always an angry shouting of THIS IS THE LAST STRAW, sometimes it is a quiet knowing, with steady breath and deep peacefulness. This salve is very good for that, though it can last-straw any situation with whatever happens to be needed in the moment.
Playing live at the meme beach house — the Fake Band of the Week!
This week’s band is Existential Crisis Cookies, and it’s actually just one guy.
And my upcoming Biopic…
Not My Area. 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 306: Wish Balls and Wish Bells
Personal ads. They’re … personal! Very.
♡
Here be monsters.
This week every single idea I’ve had for a wish that I might process here has been immediately shut down by monsters.
To the point that I couldn’t even tell that it was monsters, and thought that maybe I just didn’t want anything…
Me: What do I want?
Answer: I don’t know!
Me: Really?
Answer: I don’t know!
Me: That’s a little suspicious…
Answer: No it isn’t!
Me: Really. We have done this for THREE HUNDRED AND FIVE WEEKS IN A ROW, and suddenly at week three hundred and six, we have mysteriously lost the ability to make wishes? Or is something else at play?
Monsters: Fine, make a wish, and we will tell you why it’s stupid.
And that’s how it went.
It turned out, of course, that I have dozens of wishes, but I was just scared to name them because of all the criticism. Sometimes you have to protect a tiny sweet thing, and I was protecting mine by pretending it didn’t exist.
So I started testing this, with less scary things. I’d name a wish about something I might theoretically want, like, maybe eventually, some day, possibly…and the monsters had already written a doctoral thesis on why it’s stupid, selfish, and won’t work anyway.
Their ability to shut things down is always pretty impressive (after all, that’s how self-protective mechanisms work), but their game is so speedy right now. You kind of have to admire it.
It’s a game to them, and they are really good at it.
So I had the thought: Huh. If this is a fun game for them, destroying wishes, let’s find a way to let them play the game so they can be happy.
And a way for me to have my own parallel game of generating and playing with wishes, and then we all win.
That way I can know what they object to, and if I need proxies or less scary wishes or better ways to protect the wishes.
Of course underneath all of this is the real game: getting quiet and still, listening to my secret truth, finding out what I really want and how better to take care of myself.
This requires a bouncy castle. Let’s make one.
A bouncy castle for secret wishes that is also a ball pit.
Two of them. One for the monsters and one for me. And each of the brightly colored balls are wishes, and when the monsters see a ball they can jump on it and say all the negative things they think about it, and then at least I will know what my wishes are (and why they scare me, because of monster objections), and I can visit my own bouncy castle and play with my wish-balls there, sans monsters.
It’s duplicate bouncy castles! Duplicate bouncy castles full of wishing balls!
Hilariously, while I was thinking that, someone on Twitter said “it’s raining balls over here”. Yeah? Well I’m WISHING balls.
And since all of my wish-balls are really secretly about being a better bell, these wishing balls can also be wishing bells. Hey, it’s the month of Reverberation.
This week.
Instead of exploring a wish, I’ll just name a bunch of the colorful wishing balls.
Some may not make much sense yet, maybe not even to me, and that’s okay.
Some of these wishes are tiny, sweet, baby wishes with adorable little toes, and they need safety, sweetness and adoration.
Some of these wishes come with a request for suggestions if you have any.
Then over the course of this week, I will trust that my monsters are happily firing off objections in the ball pit, gleefully destroying everything in sight.
And I will play peacefully with my bell-wishes and ball-wishes, letting them be colorful, buoyant, extravagant.
And if monsters need to be monster-ey today, they get one sentence. Wise-me can chime in too, please.
WISHBALLS: GO!
AIR.
Back to keeping the phone in airplane mode, or, as I call it: AIRplane mode.
AIR = Access Internal Resonance, something which is considerably easier for me to do when I’m not plugged in.
Monsters: That’s not your real wish, your real wish is to not run out of data and be constrained by money, you are lying to yourself to preserve morale, just like Then!
Wisest Me: Let’s play what’s true and what’s also true: It’s true Havi cares about conserving data right now. It’s also true that she thrives on the spaciousness and quiet of being a peaceful bell, that’s a big part of Shmita and something she would genuinely like to experiment with.
A delicious no-dairy cheese recipe.
Since deciding that I’m done with plastic, I’ve been living in the kitchen.
Well, I live on the road in a tiny camper, so the kitchen is the same as the rest of my space, but I’ve been figuring out how to make everything we currently buy which comes with plastic.
I love cheese more than anything in the world, but unless I learn how to make it or acquire a giant wheel of it somewhere, it’s either goodbye cheese or substitutes.
I’ve made some nut cheeses, and they’re…fine, but nothing like cheese. The recipes say OHMYGOD THIS IS SO DELICIOUS AND ADDICTIVE AND YOU WILL THINK IT IS CHEESE BUT LIKE IT EVEN IT MORE, and apparently vegans are as reliable about things tasting like cheese as I am about things tasting like dessert.
Which is to say, not at all. The opposite of reliable. Maybe even kind of delusional.
I quit sugar a little over fifteen years ago. So I don’t actually remember what really sweet things taste like. I make myself frozen seed treats with seeds, dates, raisins, nuts and cocoa powder. In my mind they taste like Reese’s peanut butter cups, only better.
I told my housemate he should taste these sweet treats, and he said, yeah, I wouldn’t call them sweet, they taste like nuts and fruit, and I was like, WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT THIS IS THE MOST DECADENT DESSERT OF ALL TIME.
I want truly great recipes for alternative cheeses of different flavors and textures, that come with the seal of approval from people who still know from cheese. Orgasmic levels of cheese-like approximation. Or at the very least, cheese-like levels.
Anyone reading is welcome and invited to direct me to their favorite recipes, as long as a genuine cheese-eating person can swear that this really is a worthy substitute.
Monsters: You are a selfish, horrible person who needs to shut up, there are starving children working in sweatshops and all you care about is cheese taste, get over yourself.
Wisest-me: This is a marvelous wish that will change how you live, and I can’t wait to find out where this goes.
Access Secret Learning.
This is my secret code for American Sign Language, and I would like to spend more time playing with signs.
Monsters: Yeah whatever, like this is ever going to happen, don’t make wishes out loud if you’re not going to follow through, dumbass.
Wisest-me: All timing is right timing, and seed-planting is the best way to start, so keep your eyes open for all the ways you are accessing secret learning, not just the way you think it has to be.
Buying food at farms and in bulk.
This is how I want to acquire food now.
Monsters: Right, this is totally going to work while living on the road, don’t you realize it’s going to be expensive and impossible.
Wisest-me: What a beautiful wish. I bet that farm you’ve been eyeing is going to have amazing olive oil, and I know how much you enjoyed making your own chili powder this week from the bulk dried peppers you bought at the co-op! What vibrancy in taste and color. What glorious Aliveness!
Be a bell in Fresno.
[Secret silent retreat wish that has to do with a dance convention.]
Monsters: It’s going to be a disaster to end all disasters, you’ll probably never dance again.
Wisest-me: Yep, this is a terrific wish. Let’s make some magic.
Pole dancing.
Not even a proxy.
Monsters: Hahaha, with your abs?
Wisest-me: I love it when you make wishes that have to do with gazelle state and Lusciousness, your two favorite things. And adventure. What a beautiful wish.
Cod liver oil.
How do you disguise it so it does not taste disgusting? I am open to all suggestions or recipes that do not involve sugar/honey/sweeteners.
Monsters: You’re embarrassing.
Wisest-me: I bet there is a marvelous solution waiting for you.
A recipe for corn tortillas that does not involve using plastic.
In fact, I think I want an entire cookbook based on zero waste principles.
I mean, come on. People have made corn tortillas forever. How come I can’t find a single recipe that doesn’t involve plastic wrap or cutting a piece of a plastic bag or wax paper.
What did people do a hundred years ago? Why isn’t there a recipe for that? This is driving me crazy.
Open to suggestions, recommendations and favorite recipes, thank you!
Monsters: All you care about is food and making food, you’re turning into some horribly boring, homesteading, apron-wearing zealot, and no one is ever going to read your blog again.
Wisest-me: It is going to be awesome making tortillas! And there really is a need for this zero-plastic cookbook, and you don’t have to be the one to write it!
More Putterday please!
Devoting more time to just puttering.
Monsters: Just shut up already and do some damn work for a change.
Wisest-me: Mmmmm what a delicious wish!
Now.
There is a gorgeous shot glass full of freshly ground chili powder in front of me. There is flour all over my pants. I overcooked the rice dish, but made a delicious garlicky lemon tahini sauce that tastes like home to me. I’m wearing my mother’s necklace and if she were still alive, I’d tell her about the chili powder and she would be so excited.
Well, possibly she would also send me an envelope stuffed full of newspaper clippings about people who accidentally overdosed on chili powder and died, or made their own powder from bad peppers and died, but she would be very interested in the process, and right now I am enjoying that superpower of Excited About Process, something my monsters will (I hope) learn to enjoy and to let me enjoy too.
Me: Hey, slightly-wiser me, what do you have for me?
She: You thought you didn’t have any wishes and look how many wishes you have.
Me: But what if my monsters are right and these are all terrible wishes?
She: If they were terrible wishes, you wouldn’t have so much invested in trying to shut them down. And anyway, what is a wish if not an experiment in permission to want?
Clues?
When I left the campsite two weeks ago, it was full of yellow flowers, but now it is full of yellow and purple flowers. A landscape can change quickly and in entirety and astound me with beauty.
The superpower of I take care of myself first.
The quality for May is REVERBERATE, and it comes with I take care of myself first.
Things that reverberate: bells, wishes, electric toothbrushes, ships and motorcycles, intention, presence, joyfulness, desire.
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 a new experiment…
Last week my wish was about dental floss but it was really about living in a way that is meaningful and important to me, and the permission to follow that wherever it takes me.
Haven’t solved the dental floss bit yet. I already use coconut oil for oil pulling, so I have added a couple minutes of swishing oil after I eat, and brushing teeth more, but right now floss still seems very necessary, so I am using what I have and waiting for the right solution to reveal itself. As for the bigger wish, I feel stronger and more hopeful about everything than I did a week ago.
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