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.
Casting call (of the wild)
Happy weekend
It’s Friday for me, maybe weekend for you, I said this last week and say it again: an absolute madness-inducing moon (for me), and here we are.
FYI I am still on twitter which is a wreck (@havi), or find me on bluesky, same handle: havi.bsky.social
Last week we talked about how Newness Does Its Own Work, and before that we covered the technique or approach of A Mystery Guest…
Casting call (of the wild)
Okay: not okay
I have not been writing because I am extremely not okay, and even that is an understatement.
But then (aka just now), I decided that this state of being extremely not okay, which is sometimes part of the human condition and definitely my current reality, is, in this specific case, not a reason to not show up.
That’s a lot of negatives to put into one sentence, but hey, it’s a negative state of mind, and I don’t have the brain power to do a rewrite.
Here’s to the superpowers
Here’s to the superpowers of naming what is, in the moment.
To knowing (or trying to remember) that it is of the moment, and the moment will shift and change, as moments do. That’s what moments do.
Here’s to whatever other superpowers want to reveal themselves through showing up.
Preface as practice…
Is that a thing? It is now. This is my practice: noticing where I’m at and then saying it.
That’s where I’m at. Not okay.
And, also: I am showing up today in a state of not-okay, and I want to be upfront about that, to preface all of this with that bit of Loving Clarity.
Here I am, as I am
Here I am: extremely not okay.
That’s what I have in the moment.
Here’s to the superpowers of naming what is, add compassion and stir. Sometimes the only ingredient you have is hurt, or raw honesty. Okay, it’s a starting point.
Naming it, showing up, let’s see what happens.
What does not okay even mean
I am not okay lately, in every sense of not okay.
Physically I mostly feel like I’m on the verge of passing out, like that is my baseline normal, my all day every day; and on a good day I only occasionally feel like I might pass out.
My ears ring more than they don’t. I can’t remember basic things, and nearly everyone in my life wants me to either get better already or to stop thinking about it or at least to stfu and stop fucking talking about it.
Some days (and nights) it’s more of an ongoing agonizing emotional nosedive, cycling through grief, sorrow, rage and terror in various configurations.
Casting
I love the word cast, it means so many things.
I love it when a word means as many things as possible.
Let’s name them, or some of them…
You can cast a spell, for example
You can cast a spell. Casting as conjuring.
You can cast something off. Casting as releasing. Or embarking, setting sail.
You can cast a shape, like metalwork. Casting as creating.
You can cast a shadow, and, in doing so, change the scenery or mood or setting…
You can cast something into, a body of water, for example, in this sense, casting is actively letting go.
A cast of characters is a gathering.
A casting call is an invitation. Call of the wild: come in, come in.
Tonight
Tonight is nine years (if you go by the Hebrew calendar) since my mom died.
If you want to read a piece I wrote about this eight years ago, it is about treasure and grace and Roy Orbison and the word Mercy, and it is one of my favorite pieces of writing on here, out of 1,842 essays written on this site (1,728 published, I have a lot of drafts!) in these many years.
I think she would appreciate the complexity of the verb to cast. It’s a good Ruth word.
That’s all I want to say about that right now.
When you can’t let go
Years ago, my friend Jenny and I were each going through our own terrible recovery from a breakup situation, I dealt with my grief through taking as many dance classes and movement classes as I could, and screaming in the car. She went swimming every day.
She told me about how she would go to the pool and ask it to help her let go, but she could not let go.
She would say, LET IT GO, knowing she could not let it go. So one day she decided to say, “I let it come.”
It’s not something I know how to do (yet?), but it’s a reminder.
That’s all I want to say about that, too.
To the water, to the water
There is a Jewish tradition called tashlich. On the first day of Rosh Hashana (or the second day, if the first day is on shabbat), you go to a body of moving water, a river or a creek.
You toss in bread crumbs to represent all the things you regret from the past year, things you said or didn’t say, things you did or didn’t do, ways you may have been unkind to others or to yourself. Whoosh, goodbye, into the flowing water.
It’s like a counter to the communal repentance of yom kipur which is about gathering to atone together, you apologize together as a collective, for all of it.
Tashlich is a personal reckoning, a private moment between you and the river, and possibly god, if that’s your thing, being Jewish doesn’t require belief, it just asks for you to show up.
A simple quiet here I am by the water, if you can get there.
Casting away
Translation is not where I excel, but if I tried to describe the word tashlich, it’s like, you will throw!
Yes, it is a casting (off and away), a releasing, a letting go.
This word that describes casting is active, not passive. It describes the tossing, you can hear the motion in the word, if you speak Hebrew.
It is a sending (not to be confused with ascending, though maybe also that), because to throw in Hebrew is a cousin to the word to send, and also to the word for a mission.
It is my absolute favorite ritual of the year, and I was very sad this year when Rosh Hashana came and went, and I was not able to go because I did not have energy to leave my bed.
Timing timing timing (see also: location)
I saw someone online say they prefer to perform the ritual of tashlich on yom kipur, to combine the personal I Am So Sorry with the communal.
And it turns out that technically you can perform this ritual all the way up to hashana raba, which is at the end of sukkot, anyway, the point is, there is a lot of leeway about when you can do this, a three week period just about.
I love this sort of temporal leniency. It’s like when I forget to do new moon rituals, and my witchiest friend reminds me that the whole week is new moon actually.
It was freeing to think about. So I rested for several days, and on Monday, I packed up a bag of honey cake crumbs, got myself into the car and drove up a winding road into the forest to find my favorite creek.
Location location location (see also: timing)
This year monsoon came very early, and the late summer rains have been less than usual, and my creek was dry! Sounds like a metaphor.
Sounds like Otis Redding. You don’t miss your water until your well runs dry.
But I mean it quite literally. There I was, in a flash flood zone, and yet no water in the creek, just barely a trickle if you followed it down the path. Not close enough to toss in crumbs and regrets, and not enough water to carry them downstream.
I turned around.
A new something, yes please to newness
Much to my surprise and delight, I found a new spot down the road aways, one I might like even better.
Secluded, in a clearing, surrounded by ponderosa pines, the water running merrily.
Everything felt sweet and holy, promising, a sanctuary spot. Just the right place to actively let go through tossing, through casting away.
Always the silliest worry imaginable
Sometimes, just for fun, I like to worry about the most ridiculous things possible, and so on the drive, I was worrying that I have had so little interaction with people this year that I might not have accumulated enough sorrows, or things I wish I had handled differently.
Spoiler: I have more than enough regrets.
Some of my regrets are about not being as good of a friend as I could. Some are about not protecting myself as well as I wish I could. Some are about times I was not completely honest with myself. Some are about feelings not expressed.
Casting
Anyway, you do what you do at the creek.
Casting, into the water, with sincerity and hope.
Releasing the silliest worries, releasing the great sadness, let it go, let it come, let the creek do its job.
Now is not then
That’s what I try to remember.
Now is now.
Here we are.
Some Ruth Advice
I was listening to Roy Orbison at top volume, as I do on the anniversary of my mom’s death, and on her birthday, among other Ruth-pursuits.
And I lit the yahrzeit candle but first I had to go look for matches, because she thinks it’s rude to light the candle with a lighter, even if it’s a very pretty lighter. So I found matches, and it worked out.
She said that I should stop trying to solve the big things and focus on trying to solve the small things. Focus on the small things.
There’s some Ruth advice, if you would like it. It is a good and helpful clue for me. I think she is right, I have been wearing myself down trying to solve the big things. Solve the small things.
Here’s to the [fill in the blank, as you need to]
Here’s to:
casting and casting off (like a boat, but also to release),
casting and casting away, but not being a castaway, that’s different,
a cast of characters aka my incoming selves,
a good obsession,
a slightly cleaner house,
solving the small things…
Here’s to all of that, and more and better, may it be so…
Here’s to a new start
What if i can be obsessed with embracing hermit life, or taking tiny steps on projects and not just with the pain of sad things and cycling through the grief rage terror, that’s a start, right? We love a start.
Here’s to a new start. We’re not alone.
And: I said this last time but it’s still true…
I love you, I’m here, let’s keep going. Steering towards sweetness, newness and aliveness.
Come play in the comments, I love company!
You are welcome to share anything that sparked for you while reading, or anything on your mind.
Or anything you’d like to toss into the wishing pot, the healing power of the collective is no small thing, companionship always helps.
Bonus question!
I’m making progress on bonus material about how I relate to time and map out my quarters, let me know if there anything you want to know more about specifically? Drop any questions or thoughts here…
Anyone who gives to Barrington’s Discretionary (see below) will get these by email as soon as I finish editing!
A request
If you received clues or perspective or want to send appreciation for the writing and work/play we do here, I appreciate it tremendously. Working on some stuff to offer this coming year, but between traumatic brain injury recovery & Long Covid, slow going.
I am accepting support (with joy & gratitude) in the form of Appreciation Money to Barrington’s Discretionary Fund. Asking is not where my strength resides but Brave & Stalwart is the theme these days, and pattern-rewriting is the work, it all helps with fixing the many broken things.
And if those aren’t options, I get it, you can light a candle for support (or light one in your mind!), share this with someone who loves words, tell people about these techniques, approaches and themes, send them here, it all helps, it’s all welcome, and I appreciate it and you so much. ❤️
Newness does its own work
Happy weekend
It’s Friday for me, possibly weekend for you, an absolute madness-inducing moon (for me), here we are.
FYI I am still on twitter which is a wreck (@havi), or find me on bluesky, same handle: havi.bsky.social
Last week we talked about the technique or approach of A Mystery Guest, and before that we covered the opposite of loneliness…
Newness does its own work
This week has been rough sailing
You might have gathered this from social media or from my lack of an essay this week.
This has been a really hard week for me (understatement), and I spent it mostly in bed.
It’s partly due to seasonal stuff (the anniversary of my mom’s passing is a week from today, for starters), and partly due to loud neighbors being loud.
It’s partly due to how deeply miserable long covid is, I wish more people talked about how miserable it is, and partly due to the intense cognitive dissonance I feel about seemingly no one doing much to avoid it.
And also
It’s partly due to circumstances — not having running hot water, for example, but can put many things in the category of [circumstances]
And, also, putting aside all the instances of partly this and partly that, it’s mainly due to a very intense reaction I’m having to someone who was in my space being very pushy about something they had no business being pushy about to begin with.
And then they did not stop pushing when I clearly wanted them to stop. Just more and more pushing.
Forever in reaction to pushing
It’s always about more pushing (for them). But what is it about for me?
Okay, so then for me it becomes a question of whether or not to disappear.
It becomes about all the ways I choose to disappear or choose not to disappear.
A crossing of boundaries
Unwanted pushing is of course a symbolic replication of other forms of violations and violence I am still upset about, so there’s also that.
Better said: I went through a crossing of boundaries that impacted me more than I expected, a violation that I wasn’t fully able to clock as a violation, and have spent this week in bed, trying to get a sense of who I am and the why/how of everything.
The repercussions (for me) of boundary crossing
Like I said, I either disappear or I don’t disappear, and honestly both of these are less than ideal.
I either blank into blankness, a steady receding, or I am here but fucked up, too fucked up to function.
There must be a third way, I just haven’t found it yet, so I’ve been back and forth between my two known points: receding and fucked up, receding, fucked up. Here.
Waiting to be restored, or waiting to begin the process of restoration…
Restoration, a process
I was feeling very angry this week about what happened (and about many other things that are happening, ongoing), and I am thinking, as I so often am, about what Karla McClaren said about anger.
She describes anger as a messenger with only one message; a boundary has been knocked down and needs to be restored.
Yes, this is the crux of it all. How to restore and be restored.
Which, if you think about it, are good questions for this time of year anyway.
Here we are: the good questions for this time of year
What restores me to myself?
What needs to be restored, repaired, revisited, re-visioned and re-envisioned?
I don’t know yet, but remembering that I am the one who gets to ask the questions is both what put me into this state and what might get me out of it.
What do I mean by this time of year
Fall equinox, here in the northern hemisphere, as we make peace with the seasonal shift towards winter and towards 2024, which here in the United States where I live, will be a gruesome election year.
In the Hebrew calendar, this past week was new years, and new moon in the month of Tishrei, Monday is Yom Kipur and then Friday is Sukkot
A lot is happening.
A lot is happening, what is happening
The air is crisper in the morning. The sun sets surprisingly early. When I wash my hands, I remember how miserable it is to only have cold water and I feel the waves of dread about the coming cold days.
Everyone I know is in some sort of crisis or mini-crisis. It’s just a time of big change, I don’t know how to describe it better than that. It’s a time of in-between and possibilities, for better and for worse.
Sometimes it feels hopeful, sometimes it feels grim. Just really fucking grim. Waiting for the hope to return, but I know it will.
What is needed, what is here
That’s the question, isn’t it?
What is here? What is needed?
What needs to be restored and how do I approach the restoring? With gentleness, sweetness and compassion, of course, but what do I do next?
Let’s name some of the superpowers of becoming restored in this new year, this passage into what is coming.
What are the superpowers
I am invoking the superpowers of Expanding My Capacity for Handling Joy, and the power of Nourished on a Fundamental Level, which might even be the same powers amen or at the very least extremely related.
I would like both please.
In great quantities, as much as I can handle. See also: expanding my capacity for handling good things.
What is an example of these beautiful wishes
I love whipped honey and never buy it, and until last week, I did not know that you can make it yourself! It’s so easy!
These discoveries always mess with my head. On the one hand, it’s such a delight to discover that something you thought needed to be produced can be replicated easily in your own kitchen.
And on the other hand, I get mad that I didn’t know! I feel frustrated, everything is a lie!
Anyway, it’s very easy to make whipped honey, which is such a luxurious way to consume honey, if you consume honey.
A memory of chopping ginger by the window
Last August, in 2022, I chopped up a bunch of ginger and put it in a jar of local mesquite honey. I remember standing by the window, chopping, when I could stand to chop. Now I do most of my chopping seated, it takes too much energy to stand.
There’s a joke in here somewhere (can’t stand, can’t stand it anymore), but also nothing is funny.
This is one of those thing people don’t talk about when they are not talking about what covid can do to you. Remember standing to chop things? It’s gone now. Only on special occasions when I magically having standing and chopping energy, but mostly I do not.
Anyway, I turned this ginger-infused honey into whipped honey with cinnamon and vanilla, and it is extremely intense and very delicious, a punch of flavor, a luscious delight…
What if delight can be easy, actually?
Invoking the superpower of what if delight is surprisingly easy, actually?
Low effort pleasure? Low effort pleasure!
Low! Effort! Pleasure!
I live for this and all its variations. What if things can be easy? What if even easier than that?
What a beautiful thought: It comes to me! With ease!
What comes with ease?
The new windows
Last year, when I had chopping energy, I stood by the window.
A year later, I have finally replaced two of the windows that got tweaked when my tiny house got dropped when it was brought here from the coast.
It was a long and arduous process from measuring to researching to acquiring to installing, and just about everything that could go wrong did, don’t ask.
A barrier quandary
Thinking now about how I’m so grateful, so deeply thankful for these windows (a better barrier, double paned, with screens, they will keep warm air in when winter comes) but also they had to come into place via the three people I have the most barrier issues with.
Do you see? A window is a beautiful boundary, a source of clarity, delivering light and a view, a refreshing evening breeze when needed.
And also wow, the boundary issues, it’s really a thing.
Hard and then easy, easy and then hard
Things are hard and then easy, easy and then hard. I wrote that and then I forgot what I was writing about.
The process of installing windows, maybe, or the process of restoration.
Or am I talking about whipped honey that contributes to the most delicious holiday cake, and accidentally finding my way into a new new-year tradition…
I don’t know. Would you like to know how to make whipped honey?
How to make whipped honey
Note: this works best with light colored crystallized honey.
You put the honey in a heat proof bowl above a pot of hot water until it’s soft (not hot), aka the double boiler method cheat, because who has a double boiler, not me, I live in a tiny tiny house.
You give it a good stir and when it’s cool enough, it goes into a blender with whatever spices you like.
Or you could use a hand mixer if you have one.
Leave it out or in a cupboard if you can — if you keep it refrigerated, it will seize up again but no worries, you can melt and re-blend as needed.
Variety is the spice of life, spiced honey is a source of variety
Not just for dipping sliced apples. You can also use your flavored whipped honey in baking and cooking, not just for dipping everything into it, or eating by the spoonful.
A third of a cup of whipped ginger cinnamon vanilla honey went into the bourbon chai honey cake I made for Rosh Hashana, new tradition, we love a new tradition.
And I added a generous spoonful of the whipped ginger honey to the cilantro lemon chili crisp tahini sauce I make each week and put on everything. (Have we talked about homemade chili crisp yet? This has ruined my life in the best possible way.)
The point is, you can’t go wrong. Add it to everything.
Incredible…
I always thought whipped honey was something you had to get in a store? I assumed it was complicated. It is not complicated. I love things that are not complicated.
What else is uncomplicated or has the potential to be uncomplicated. What else am I over-complicating unnecessarily, through not knowing that it can be simple…
My mom used to buy a brand of whipped honey for Rosh Hashana, the tagline was INCREDIBLE, IT’S SPREADABLE.
My brother and I would lose our minds laughing about that bit of copywriting, but also the honey was so delicious.
Newness
I don’t have my mother’s holiday honey cake recipe, or my grandmother’s, and I’m sad about that. But that’s where new traditions come in.
And I had to figure out how make my bourbon chai honey cake gluten-free, dairy-free and egg-free, so even if I had the family recipes, I’d have to change them until they were new too.
Can I let the newness be comforting, even when I am longing for the familiar? Maybe. Can I find some magic in the not-doing, when I cannot be in a state of doing…
Finding some magic in not doing
This new year transition and fall equinox time have been extra challenging for me.
In part because of low energy, and in part because I really thought the new window install would be the perfect new year’s gift to myself but what actually happened was having them installed was so unbelievably stressful and exhausting that it sent me into bed rest and a deep depression.
So most of my usual rituals and practices didn’t happen, which means it’s time for something new.
Instead of seeking the symbolic forms of newness that I am familiar with and crave, I need to trust the newness of the year itself to do its own work, or to work its own magic.
Newness does its own work
That’s a superpower too.
And so is letting newness do its own work, work its own magic…
Not pushing, not disappearing. Letting the newness do what it needs to do.
Maybe I don’t have energy to welcome the year or to do any restoration.
But I’m calling on the newness to do it for me for now.
Words on words
I had other things I wanted to tell you about. They will wait.
In the meantime, I hope you got some good clues or threads to follow, something to accompany you on the transition into the new season, or whatever passages you are currently going through.
Wishing you all the support, sweetness and insight you need, or something even better.
I like to think we can find new ways to virtually share honey cake or companionship, or whatever is needed most. Here’s to restoring and restoration, with sweetness and a new twist.
I love you, I’m here, let’s keep going. Steering towards sweetness, newness and aliveness.
Question!
I’m making progress on bonus material about how I relate to time and map out my quarters, let me know if there anything you want to know more about specifically? Drop any questions or thoughts here…
And! Anyone who gives to Barrington’s Discretionary (see below) will get these by email as soon as I finish editing them…
Come play in the comments, I love company!
Share anything sparked for you while reading, anything on your mind.
Or anything you’d like to toss into the wishing pot, the healing power of the collective is no small thing, companionship always helps.
A request
If you received clues or perspective or want to send appreciation for the writing and work/play we do here, I appreciate it tremendously. Working on some stuff to offer this coming year, but between traumatic brain injury recovery & Long Covid, slow going.
I am accepting support (with joy & gratitude) in the form of Appreciation Money to Barrington’s Discretionary Fund. Asking is not where my strength resides but Brave & Stalwart is the theme these days, and pattern-rewriting is the work, it all helps with fixing the many broken things.
And if those aren’t options, I get it, you can light a candle for support (or light one in your mind!), share this with someone who loves words, tell people about these techniques, approaches and themes, send them here, it all helps, it’s all welcome, and I appreciate it and you so much. ❤️
A mystery guest
Happy Thursday
Or Friday, depending on where you are and happy new moon.
FYI I am still somehow on twitter which is a wreck (@havi), or find me on bluesky, same handle: havi.bsky.social
Last week we talked about the opposite of loneliness, and before that we covered Fall Gleaming…
A Mystery Guest
Mystery?
In June, I wrote the words A Mystery Guest, and walked away to do something else, and upon my return (and then later returns, so many returns, many happy returns to me), I realized that possibly what I actually meant is a surprise guest.
And now, on my nth visit to an otherwise blank page, it dawns on me that really I mean neither of those things, and I actually mean a motivating force to clean house.
There is something about knowing someone might be coming over, even in theory, that gets me to interact with my space differently, to see my surroundings with new eyes.
The oomph factor
Knowing someone might come to visit also provides a handy burst of adrenaline which coaxes me into doing, eliciting at least 15% more more oomph into tasks (cleaning, tidying, harmonizing, reorganizing, bringing things into congruence).
Projects towards which I might normally feel ambivalent to reluctant.
Ambivalent to reluctant
Ambivalent to reluctant to filled with dread, depending on what they are. Or simply unable to begin.
Executive function, why hast thou forsaken me.
This is where an external oomph-enhancer comes in. There’s probably a better word for that, but my mind is half cobwebs, and the word I am reaching for is rarely where I thought I left it.
Renaming
Verbs I use in place of “cleaning” to remind me that while I might perceive it as a tiresome chore, I will feel exponentially better once it’s done:
Gleaming. Sparkling. Rejuvenating.
Words I use in place of “tidying” for the same reasons, and because I am much more allergic to “tidying” and neatness/order/organization than I am to cleaning:
Congruencing. Harmonizing. Interior design acupuncture.
Words I use in place of “tasks”, or, goddess forbid, “chores”:
Secret ops. Mission. Side quest. Bonus challenge for extra points!
The Connor DeWolfe Method of Housecleaning
Apologies to anyone I’m friends with, probably I have sent you this tiktok video by text more than once, I am obsessed with it.
Connor DeWolfe does Tiktok videos about the trials and tribulations of trying to get things done with ADHD, and never has any content been more relatable to me personally, someone with ADHD and also lives in a state of Goldfish Brain due to the fun combination of a concussion and Long Covid.
[Sidebar, everytime I describe myself as someone who has ADHD, I am obligated to quote Sarah Marshall who phrased this so perfectly: “Do I have ADHD? I would say that ADHD has me…”]
Here’s how it works
Anyway, in the video, a friend (played by Connor who plays all roles) calls and says, “Hey man, I’m coming over in forty five minutes”, which then gets Connor to absolutely speed-demon clean the apartment.
Connor, from his very clean desk, calls the friend to see when they’re arriving because they never showed, and the friend reminds Connor that this was all Connor’s brilliant plan all along…
Yes, Connor was the one who asked this friend to occasionally call and say they’re coming over, in order to get Connor to clean up, knowing he’d forget he asked for this.
Absolutely genius method. I live for this. I live by this.
In practice
My friends and I often and regularly say to each other, whenever we find ourselves in a state of inowanna or otherwise stuck on getting started, “Hey, heads up, I’m heading over, be there in 45 minutes!”
And even though I know they aren’t, and physically could not, because they live in faraway places, this magical phrase is enough to get me to set a timer or go into the forest focus app, and do whatever feels most urgent.
Aka whatever I would most likely address first if someone were actually coming over.
Do you see?
Sometimes this approach gets me to do even more cleaning, and sometimes (see: long covid, brain damage etc), I might only have ten or fifteen minutes in me before I need to sit and stare into space for the rest of the day.
But who cares, at least the dishes got done, the kitchen rug was vacuumed.
Everything is slightly better than before, do you see?
I love this
I love this for me. I love this for the world.
Obviously people vary, so if this is something you find stressful, you could play with the idea of an imaginary, kind, non-judgmental visitor coming in a week or a month, or whatever would allow you to do small bits here and there.
The Half-Assed Method of Housecleaning
Big fan of doing a little or more than I expected, a non-zero amount of improving things.
It is easy for me to get into all-or-nothing mode, but I keep re-learning that five minutes of stretching is better than zero minutes, and will bring me joy. Similarly, clearing and dusting one shelf helps too.
More than I think it will.
More than I think it will
It’s the approach of the Shitty First Draft for writing, or the Rude First Draft (for emails to companies I am currently feuding with), moved into the realm of the home.
Half-assed is enough, certainly enough of a start, and, more importantly, half-assed is playful.
And playful gets it done.
As often as not, doing a little gets me enthused to do more, whether now or soon.
The Just One Song Method
Sometimes I don’t want to wash dishes, but I will for just one song.
Then it becomes a dish-washing dance party, and I put on another song.
Mr Smith
This is a proxy, though also someone who exists, both in my phone contacts and in my mind, and presumably also in the world at large. Mr Smith has exceptionally good taste.
And so sometimes I like to imagine that Mr Smith will text to say he’s in Santa Fe at a gallery opening but will be driving through my area on the weekend, and might stop by to have a porch beverage.
When I run this experiment, I think about ambience.
Ambience
Maybe this is making the most outrageously delicious batch of horchata or chai.
Serving it in the most beautiful mug I own…
What would I bake. What incense or candle. What do I highlight in my space?
This is not for Mr Smith, who is not coming to the middle of nowhere and is not invited in any case.
This is more like a form of stone skipping, imagining a visit from someone who adores beautiful and unique things arranged just so gets me to approach the questions differently, or to rewrite them altogether.
The new questions
Imagining Mr Smith announcing he is coming to town is a way to get me to ask new questions:
What do I treasure in my space? What do I want to move to a new spot or out of the way entirely?
How do I want to set up my space so that its essence really shines?
How would I want to welcome someone who has exquisite taste? With what decadent edible treats?
Eventually
Eventually I will remember that the person with exquisite taste who deserves to be welcomed, cherished and treated like an honored guest is me.
Until then, it helps me to plan for an imagined Mr Smith, or an imagined version of a someone I’d like to enjoy my space and company.
That look of joy
Whenever new handyperson comes out to visit, he always takes time to look around and appreciate the beauty of both my home and the surroundings.
What a place you have here, he says happily.
He loves that it doesn’t look or feel like an RV or a cabin, it is like nothing else other than itself.
While I sometimes get frustrated about things that aren’t working or aspects of living here that are not comfortable, he sees the magic and the art of it all.
Reconnecting to what is good actually
It is comforting and enlightening at the same time when someone else sees the remarkable beauty that you have temporarily forgotten about.
Sometimes doing some Fall Gleaming (my version of spring cleaning) is a way to reconnect to what is remarkable, or even to what is cozy, simple and sweet.
Dreaming of a bridge
Sometimes I want a version of this [impetus towards cleaning and reorganizing] to be even better than the Connor DeWolfe Method, the Mr Smith Method or any of the other methods, but what does that look like.
Am I preparing the space for me? What is the bridge between where I am now and being someone who makes everything beautiful just for me, for no reason at all, which is the best reason of all.
My space, for me. A delight.
Yes it would be fun to have a special visit to look forward to, but also: what if I am the beloved, mysterious, much awaited visitor?
A practice run
Okay, so I think this is what I meant to write about in June. My friend from Arizona was going to come camp on my property for a weekend, and then she had to call it off because a family emergency called her to drive across the country.
And I felt sad about not getting to see her, both because I miss her, and because I live such a very quiet and isolated life out in the country, and it is so very rare that I get to see anyone.
But also I deep cleaned my tiny home for her visit that never came to pass, and I remember feeling glowy about that. What helps with glowy feelings, and what is the treasure in a practice run?
The art of the brief sprint
Usually I do my gleaming ops in spurts, something gets gleamed each day, dishes get done and put away no matter what because otherwise I get overwhelmed, and vacuuming happens every day, because a tiny space accumulates dust and grime almost impossibly fast.
But sometimes I realize it’s been a while, because my energy is so limited, and projects pile up.
Zeroing in on a feeling
Wish: I want to remember how I feel (steady, calm, reassured, inspired, hopeful, alive) to have everything or even some things fresh and sparkly.
I want to conjure both this experience and this collection of feelings more often, in my mind and in my space.
Conjuring
Yes, I want imaginary visits from real friends! I want real visits from imaginary friends! Or at least, to imagine those too.
I want to channel this good feeling into more good feeling.
And whether any of these friends, real or in my mind, are going to visit me or not, I can imagine, pretend, tell myself that it’s happening, and maybe some day it will…
Maybe some day soon I will have guest space and we can rally together outside, may it be so or something even better.
What changes for each guest?
Assuming I am imagining the imaginary, of course…
How would I set up my space if my chef friend was going to stop by? A favorite podcaster? An author I adore? Someone I went on one date with five years ago by accident and think about this more often than I admit to myself? A character from a play…?
Do I prepare my space in the same way for each person?
Do I prepare my space in the same way each time? I don’t!
That’s so interesting. This is a fascinating stone to skip if you are inclined to journal about things like place, design, identity, desire and so on.
I went all the way down this rabbit hole, and made an entire interior design wishlist and also a playlist based on each of these scenarios, and learned so much.
Mainly, I was reminded that actually I love design so much, and I don’t let myself love it because I am scared of how much I love it, so really that’s useful information too…
Hello and welcome, new moon my mysterious guest!
The new moon can also be a mysterious guest, who is also not a surprise, because I know when it’s coming, it’s on the calendar!
And yet also somehow I’m surprised every time because time itself is mysterious.
Same goes for full moon, solstice, equinox, pretty much any holiday, I know it’s coming, I know I want to prepare, and suddenly it’s like uh oh my friend is almost here, gotta get this place ready and sparkling!
Hello and welcome, new moon new year
Happy new moon today and tomorrow, hello new moon.
And not only is it new moon in virgo but it is the new moon of the month of Tishrei, Friday night is Erev Rosh Hashana, the eve of the head of the year! So happy new year if you are celebrating, or if you are not then you can feel celebratory with me if you like.
May it be a good, sweet new year for us all.
Tell me everything
And, what if the new year is the mysterious beloved guest I have been yearning for, craving, excited to meet?
Hello, hello, beautiful new year!
Tell me everything. Whisper in my ear.
And all incoming selves of course too
An incoming self can also be an unexpected visitor I can welcome.
It’s exciting. Something about preparing for a country weekend like in a murder story but without the murder of course.
Yes to preparation and anticipation in the air. No to murders, obviously. You know what I mean.
Welcome, mystery guest who is me
The me of the new year is a mystery guest, what a fun adventure to get to know who is here.
Can I make everything gleaming and ready for this self and these selves, these aspects of me that I am newly coming into or don’t even know about yet?
Noticing that I’m feeling some angst about this because I am working with so little energy these days, and how will I welcome what’s next?
And yet
And yet, if I know anything about my incoming selves, it’s that they glow compassion my way, have no expectations and are just happy that I exist.
Can I channel that?
And if not, can I feel into how it is so natural for them to wish me well?
Turning and returning
This is how the new year works, a revolution (of the earth), and a revolution (small, internal), hopefully not too much upheaval, just enough.
And I have probably mentioned this before, but in Hebrew, the word for this act of return is also a form of repair or making right, turning inward and outward, coming back to whatever you need to come back to, renewed.
Where does this book go (I am the book)
I am also thinking about returning as in returning a book to a library. To bring something back to its place, which is also related to everything in its place, and to me in my place.
Feeling at home in my home, feeling at home in my life.
This is also about learning to feel at home in some tight places, like chronic illness, alone in the wild wilds, the mysteries that have not solved themselves.
Lighting candles, admiring the shadows
Lighting a candle for It Solves Itself.
Lighting a candle for oh wow what beautiful wishes (what beautiful mysteries).
Lighting a candle for where does this book go.
Lighting a candle for peace and tranquility, for joy and ease, whatever is needed most and in the right amounts, here’s to setting the table and welcoming what comes.
Question!
I’m making progress on bonus material about how I relate to time and map out my quarters, let me know if there anything you want to know more about specifically? Drop any questions or thoughts here…
And! Anyone who gives to Barrington’s Discretionary (see below) will get these by email as soon as I finish editing them…
Come play in the comments, I love company!
Share anything sparked for you while reading, or add anything you’d like to into the pot, the healing power of the collective is no small thing, companionship helps.
A request
If you received clues or perspective or want to send appreciation for the writing and work/play we do here, I appreciate it tremendously. Working on some stuff to offer this coming year, but between traumatic brain injury recovery & Long Covid, slow going.
I am accepting support (with joy & gratitude) in the form of Appreciation Money to Barrington’s Discretionary Fund. Asking is not where my strength resides but Brave & Stalwart is the theme these days, and pattern-rewriting is the work, it all helps with fixing the many broken things.
And if those aren’t options, I get it, you can light a candle for support (or light one in your mind!), share this with someone who loves words, tell people about these techniques, approaches and themes, send them here, it all helps, it’s all welcome, and I appreciate it and you so much. ❤️
The opposite of loneliness
Happy Thursday
Or Friday, depending on where you are. This post got stuck because I was alternately on bed rest or experiencing rage meltdowns that felt like heart episodes, but eventually I decided to write my way through it instead of waiting for it to pass so that I could write again…
FYI I am still somehow on twitter which is now X, and sucks, but I’m there (@havi), and you can find me on bluesky, same handle: havi.bsky.social
Last week we talked about Fall Gleaming, and before that we covered Latibulation, slow process, fun words, recovery and solitude. Good stuff. Onwards to loneliness and its opposite, whatever that might be.
The opposite of loneliness, and other conundra
Okay, this one needs some content warnings
Good lord, this one probably a needs content warning for possibly everything under the sun, definitely anger (so much anger), hopelessness, depression, suicide ideation, past and present trauma, maybe tangentially eating disorder stuff?
We talk about some hard things, mostly very indirectly. You know me, I like to play at the edges of the edges, not a fan of jumping in to the deep, especially when it’s not required, and it really never is.
Anyway, I wrote a lot of words (five thousand) about where I’m at, and where I’ve been, aka the two themes I know best, staying in my lane…
The song that plays when I need it to…
I can see clearly now the rain is gone /
I can see all obstacles in my way…
I HATE IT HERE
I hate it here. I hate it here.
This is a phrase I have been saying a lot lately but what does it mean. What do I hate. And what is here?
Here in my heart that feels like it might explode? Here in the ongoing heat? Here in the Pandemicene?
Do I know what I mean by I hate it here? I convinced myself that I didn’t but actually I do, of course I do.
You are here
I hate it here, sometimes, or at least right now.
And by “here” I specifically mean what Sarah Marshall referred to the other day as this mid-apocalyptic world that we are trying to navigate, and trying is a big word.
Trying is a big word. We are here, in this mid-apocalyptic world, trying.
My kingdom for a shower
When I say I hate it here I do not mean here.
I do not mean the here of my sweet tiny house trailer at the edge of the forest, though maybe I do, sometimes, also mean that.
Pretty sure everyone I know is tired of me talking about how I would do at least one murder to be able to take a shower, if that’s what it took, which it might, who knows.
Call me, your friendly neighborhood assassin for hire! Talk showers to me, baby. Talk clean to me.
So close, so far
But just in case you don’t know, I have not had working hot water here (here) since early February 2022, and I really, truly believed that this was the week it was finally getting solved, and all my hopes have been pinned on this week, and of course, you guessed right, it did not get solved.
It did not get solved, and I have been handling it really well (screaming and throwing things at the wall).
I crossed out finally getting a shower off my Reasons To Stay Alive list, since it’s not going to happen, or at least not for a while, and then stared at the list for a while trying to think of something to take its place.
Yes, I make a new list every day.
It’s something
Then the skies opened and I went out into the rain because the new hot water heater is on the porch, and I didn’t want it to get went, and then I stood in the rain and cried, which is basically a shower, or shower-adjacent, so that was something.
And the air smelled so sweet and good, something about the rain and the wildflowers, the sky emptying itself out, and the way the high desert loves the rain.
I went back inside and picked up my Reasons To Stay Alive notebook, and wrote:
- The smell of the air when it rains
- The way the yellow and red-orange wildflowers are extra bright in the rain
- The baby bunnies hiding under my car, I love them
- Surprise miracles, come in, come in!
Here, here
Please know this:
You do not need to worry about me, even when I don’t know what goes on the list, there is still no situation in the mix where I would willingly take my own life.
For one thing, I have zero pain tolerance, negative pain tolerance, I am absolutely the biggest baby you have ever met, the most highly sensitive flower. I didn’t even get my ears pierced until I was forty, and that was only thanks to Kathryn dragging me there and holding my hand the entire time. So no, I am not going to harm myself.
And, also, I have been alive long enough to know that things shift and change, surprise miracles happen, they do, you never know what beautiful things might happen, and it’s worth it to stick around and find out.
To be here now, and to find out what happens. Let’s do that, babe.
(All that to say)
(All that to say that if I ever die mysteriously, I definitely got murdered by some local gun-fanatic, and you should avenge me.)
(I’m counting on you.)
(Put that in your notebook of reasons to stay alive if you want and if you need a reason: Avenge Havi. Thank you!)
(We need you, stay with us. I’m staying too. I love you, let’s keep going.)
Another form of here
So maybe the “here” in I hate it here is this murderous mood where I passionately hate everything and yell at the wind and there is a storm inside of me.
Maybe here is just being in a world where no one will take precautions to keep me from getting more sick, and so I am alone forever, here, with my thoughts about how my entire life would change if I could just a) shower and b) I don’t know, have an in-person conversation with a person I like? Have a reprieve from constantly needing bed rest? Something.
Something here. Heart-here. Hear it here. You heard it here first.
And another form of here
Hineni: I am here. A response of “sacred undiluted presence”, isn’t that a beautiful phrase.
Right here, right now, baby. That’s all there is.
With my thoughts, with the storm, with my longings and desires, my frustrations and furious fury, with all of it.
Rumi in the guesthouse levels of here. I’m here.
Here as in present, presence, right here, close
The last time I hung out with a friend indoors was mid-April. A rally friend came through southern New Mexico, and they tested for covid before visiting, which I appreciated. What treasure, friends who care.
I had not spent time with a person in months.
We kept windows open and air filters on, and then went for a lovely short hike and hugged some tree friends.
My last conversation with a friend and last outdoor hike was on May 29, a delight.
And the last time I talked to someone I know was July 21, which is seven weeks ago, not that I’m counting, but I am absolutely counting.
Mid-
Mid-apocalyptic of course feels related to the ongoing and worsening climate disasters and environmental collapse, but also to the political spectre of what is to come, at least here in the United States, are you filled with dread about the 2024 presidential election? I am!
Mid-apocalyptic, this state of in the middle of it all, also feels related to the ongoing pandemic and the collective attempt to ignore, cover-up, gaslight and pretend.
The way people pretend everything is fine when nothing is fine, they way they pretend it isn’t disabling people every day, that it isn’t unfolding exactly the way we said it could…
And of course mid + apocalyptic feels related to the economic challenges of staying alive in the end-times with limited resources, and the world being unsafe for so many of us, for so many reasons. Cooking mid-apocalyptic rice and beans, pausing between stirring because I have to sit down again.
Doing my best, right?
I’m doing my best. And some days I scream and throw things at the wall, in my own personal apocalypse.
Then I laugh, because if I’m screaming and throwing things then I’m up and about, which means it’s not a bed rest day, big win for me, someone who needs a lot of bed rest days.
I can describe this to you
I can describe to you every hug I have had since February 2020.
How’s that for mid-apocalyptic?
A conversation about loneliness
Remember the summer of 2021 when we all got vaccinated and everything felt briefly hopeful and exciting? Hugs and conversations and excited reconnecting. There was hope and beauty in the air for a bit there, that was fun, I guess.
Anyway, I was catching up with a friend that summer by text and told her that I am going to need therapy for the year-plus of deep loneliness, but that the therapist I’d had in mind was off the list, because she just got married to her girlfriend, and I am fundamentally uninterested in discussing my experience of grueling pandemic isolation with someone who didn’t also go through it.
My friend, who is married and has a kid and a dog, and zero ability to comprehend what I had just been through, said, “But Havi, everyone has had an experience of deep loneliness at some point or another, that’s part of the human experience.”
Yeah, sure, and also no, not at all
It took a while, because I had to sit with that, but ultimately I couldn’t get past the part about: yeah, sure, I too would have said that, pre-pandemic.
For sure, absolutely. I too would have been convinced that I have had these shared life experiences of deep loneliness.
But guess what, I would have been wrong, and my friend is wrong. This is different.
(Clarifying, for clarity, to not be misunderstood)
Obviously I don’t want to imply that people who are partnered or have families and/or pets had it easy or have it easy, because god knows there are all kinds of challenges in those situations too, and I’m genuinely so sorry for all the hardships that everyone has been though. Hand on my heart.
All I am saying is that having someone to talk to or hug every day is a very different experience than not knowing when you will next get to exchange one sentence with someone while looking at their eyes.
When will you next hand a stranger a jug of papaya juice and have it be the most meaningful human connection of your year? What if it doesn’t happen again? What if that was the last time?
Papaya juice
Trying to remember exactly when this was, maybe July of 2020, let’s say five months into a state of completely and utterly alone and undone by aloneness.
Alone in the desert, my place sat on a long dirt road off of a long dirt road, so I didn’t even get to see people walking by or driving by.
Once a Fedex truck drove down my road as I was standing on the porch. The driver and I waved at each other, and I sobbed for hours and then days because it was my first human connection in weeks.
Then one day I drove into town for groceries at a place that didn’t have outdoor pickup, and a man in a wheelchair asked if I could reach papaya juice for him from a high shelf in the refrigerator case. I handed him the juice, and we shared a couple sentences of light banter, our eyes smiling above our masks.
I remember sitting in the car, crying my eyes out, knowing that one tiny interaction was going to have to last me for another month at least. I still get emotional every time I see papaya juice. I am not okay.
I am not okay
There is a new poem in this week’s issue of The New Yorker called The Endlessness. It is by the U.S. poet laureate.
The first line is:
At first I was lonely, but then I was curious.
I was not able to read past that first line, because I am cursed by the gods with an audiographic memory, which means that if someone tells me something, no matter how mundane, then I tragically must remember it forever, and as it happens, once in passing someone told me that this poet is married.
Question mark? Question mark! Question mark?!?!
Obviously I had to google it.
Just imagine me being like, “…Divorced????? Husband dead????” Question mark question mark???
Question mark question mark question mark…
Like surely no one who is MARRIED could have the audacity, IN A PANDEMIC where some of us are IMMUNOCOMPROMISED AND ISOLATED AND HAVE NOT HAD A CONVERSATION IN LITERALLY MONTHS, to be writing a poem in the fucking New Yorker about loneliness???? Question mark question mark?!
Not okay
I haven’t sat down with a friend in five months but please, go ahead and impart your great wisdom about loneliness, poet who lives in a house with another person, someone who loves you, presumably, someone you can talk to.
Is this really what I’m upset about right now? No, not really, but also, maybe, yes. Sure, yes-and.
I mean, fortunately I can be enraged about so many things at once, and some can be proxies for others, and for whatever reason this is sitting at the top of my rage list, maybe because I do not wish to look at the other things on that list.
Maybe I’d rather be mad at a poet being shitty than friends being shitty or companies stealing from me, or trying to get someone to drive out into the country and install a very tiny hot water heater so that I can shower again.
We can about whatever we like, for ourselves
It’s not that I think this poet can’t write about loneliness. All pain is valid, all experience is valid.
If I stub my toe and it’s painful, I am allowed to wallow in the pain of that, I can even write a poem about it.
But if we find ourselves in a social crisis that has resulted in many, many people having limbs amputated, then it’s kind of an asshole move if I publish my [profound lessons learned from toe-stubbing] poem in the fucking New Yorker, am I not right about this? Am I losing my mind?
Like how did this get past everyone? Did no one stop to say, hey babe maybe this isn’t your topic, actually.
Is there not a specialized version of Clippy for poets? Can someone invent this please.
Clippy, for poets
I want her to have a version of Microsoft Clippy that says things like, “I see you’re writing about loneliness! Is this your lane? Have you considered staying in your lane?”
And I don’t know, I don’t know her, I imagine she has had life experiences that are unknowable to me in the same way that my friend with the husband and pets cannot imagine what it is like to hand a plastic jug of papaya juice to a stranger and make eye contact with a human for the first time in months and have an entire breakdown over this.
But when I see her use that word, I feel the same way as when I see Christians blowing a shofar:
That is not yours, that does not belong to you, put it down.
Of course, we can feel lonely in companionship too
Can someone be lonely in a marriage, in a crowd, in a room with one or more people? No doubt. It happens, it’s common.
Of course, absolutely, we’ve all experienced some form of that. It’s been a very long time since I was married, but can confirm that marriage too can be agonizingly lonely.
And, also: in this immunocompromised, chronically ill, no-hot-water, devastating aloneness, here, alone at the edge of the forest, at the edge of everything, I do not wish to share that word with her right now, I’m sorry, I cannot do it.
I don’t want to be curious. I don’t want outside perspective on my isolation or how I am relating to this isolation, and I especially don’t want it from people who aren’t going through this isolation.
Here for this
Talk to me about missing people, missing experiences, I am here for that.
Talk to me about forgetting who you are, and the path to remembering, I am here for that.
It has been so long
I know I have been talking about loneliness, but also a lot of the time I do not feel lonely, because I have forgotten how to feel, and forgotten what it is like to be around people at all.
It has been so long since I remembered what the opposite of loneliness is that I don’t even experience loneliness as loneliness. I’m not sad about it, I’m not anything about it.
(Though I do know who can’t speak to it, and that’s the poet laureate who is welcome to find any other topic.)
The thing and the opposite of the thing
A switch flipped for me, in me, in August, and I mysteriously went from being the loneliest person alive to being at peace with the quiet, and then to finding appreciation and joy in The Life Solitudinal.
A switch flipped and suddenly I was like, wow thank all possible gods for this solitude this is exactly what I want, nothing is missing, no one needs to visit, I don’t need anything actually, I have my incoming selves and my wildlife friends. I have podcasts to listen to and texts from beloved friends, and I’m good.
This was so confusing to me that I had to go take a look at my summer solstice wishes and spring equinox wishes, and maybe even winter solstice wishes, because it feels like I have been wishing for an end to my loneliness forever and that’s not what I meant?
The superpower of getting what you want in a way you could never have imagined
So yes, I have been experiencing agonizing loneliness for three and a half years, wishing again and again, for this loneliness to end, and, this is the fun part, I did not ever specify how!
In my mind I guess I was imagining some combination of….
- more friends to go on hikes with more often?
- a possible love interest? or at least a good flirtation?
- meeting people locally and making new friends
- the covid situation easing up? (hahahahaha)
- or at least meeting people who take good precautions
- what about a friend moving out here or moving out here part time…
- having resources and energy to visit friends in Tucson or Albuquerque, or to renovate the barn so people can visit…
And so on.
That’s not what happened at all
What actually happened is that suddenly, somewhere between the second and third week of August, I noticed that I do not feel lonely, the loneliness is gone.
I can’t even really remember why it bothered me to not have people to talk to IRL when I am such wonderful company for myself, and when most people are clowns, and the people I love I do not actually need to see in person.
And normally this would be when my mental health would be massively falling apart because I would be needing conversations and hugs and connection for my actual sanity, and this time, for the first time since I do not even know, I don’t need any of those things.
Obviously I would not turn them down, obviously, obviously.
A hug would be as life-changing as a conversation or a shower or any of the many other situations solving themselves, resolving themselves, probably.
But I am for the most part not missing people anymore, and more importantly, I don’t feel the need anymore, and the need was the painful part.
Absence of absence
Their absence not only does not define me, their absence doesn’t seem to affect me.
I am enjoying my own company. I am making a herbal tea rinse for my hair. I am talking to the bunnies and the deer.
And these things used to feel like putting up or making do, and now they do not. They feel perfectly fine.
Okay, there is something else
There is another element to this too which is that I have lost so much respect for people who don’t take covid precautions and don’t prioritize keeping me alive or keeping me from crashing, that I would rather spend time with myself than with them.
So maybe what was keeping me lonely was hope.
And now I do not have hope, but also I do not have loneliness like I did, and sometimes I do not have it at all.
To understand the heart of it
To quote Michael Hobbes and probably many other people: To solve a problem you have to understand the problem.
And the poet laureate may understand many problems but cannot be the poet laureate of loneliness, because it is out of her purview, okay apparently I’m still mad about that fucking poem, that’s alright, let’s breathe babe.
Do I agree that we have to understand problems to solve them? Not necessarily.
My problem of loneliness solved itself by simply turning itself off. Nothing was understood.
I stayed in my lane, and it solved itself.
Hunger
In my twenties there were long periods of time, months on months, when I did not live anywhere.
At the beginning of each month, I’d make a chart for the month. A bit like my list of reasons to stay alive, but a chart of places I could stay.
I’d call around and see who had a free couch or a spare room, trying to fill as many blocks of days as I could, with the goal of never having more than two open days.
Open days, spots that could not be filled, were for not sleeping at all, and then napping in the park in the afternoon.
I was hungry all the time.
And then I wasn’t
The switch flipped.
I don’t know how to explain it but it was as if my body came to an understanding, and then shared that understanding with me.
The understanding was this: I, your body, understand that you love me and want me to live, you want to nourish me, and you cannot, because of circumstances. I will stop giving you hunger signals until these circumstances change.
It’s an unsolvable problem, to experience hunger sensations when you can’t feed that hunger, and so the switch flipped.
Do I also have a loneliness switch?
I am wondering if something similar is happening with loneliness.
Am I no longer feeling the sensations of loneliness because I am no longer lonely, or has my body received a decision to no longer send me signals about things I can do nothing about.
Is this my body saying: You don’t need these loneliness signals right now, you cannot tend to them so they are not helpful…
Or maybe it’s about the magic of It Solved Itself
Maybe it has nothing to do with a flipped switch and maybe it has everything to do with my biggest wish of the summer.
I wished to not be lonely anymore but mainly I wished for everything to make its way into a state of It Solves Itself, and it did solve itself, jut not the way I expected or anticipated, or even any of the many possible options I was able to imagine…
The beauty in the new question and in the new answer
What would my other wishes look like if they solved themselves other than in the ways I am imagining they could potentially solve themselves?
What if they solve themselves in this way, an internal shift, a flip of a switch, what would that be like??
The beauty of a dilemma or a situation solving itself with an unconscious internal shift is that none of the external factors matter…
Let’s consult Nihilism Daddy & the Tough Survivalist of the Bunkhouse
Nihilism Daddy, the true poet laureate of isolation…
Nihilism Daddy says: Truly the next level practice is giving everything to the fires of It Solves Itself, taking steps towards yes and trusting that the how will reveal itself in time.
Havi: Okay but I have been clawing my way tooth and nail towards solving this shower solution and it would not have happened had I not done so much research, found the new handyperson etc, I have had to take so many steps and fight so hard, and it’s exhausting and frustrating, and sometimes I just feel so hopeless…
The Tough Survivalist of the Bunkhouse: So much of It Solves Itself is not avoidance from, but praying towards and resting into. It’s not set it and forget it, it’s active wishing and also resting a lot
Your wishes and solutions are in the pot, brewing and bubbling
Keep resting, keep walking, keep wondering, keep trusting, keep getting rid of things, making space, making your space magical, feeling that where you are is good. You are here, that counts. See clearly.
I can see clearly now, the rain is gone…
Yes, I love all versions and covers of this song.
I love the moody versions as much as the cheerful ones.
Mainly I love the line, “I can see all obstacles in my way.”
The superpower of seeing the obstacles
It’s not that the obstacles are gone or even fewer. They’re still there, still in my way.
It’s just that I can perceive them now.
Knowing where they are means I can strategize around them. Or kick them when I need to kick something, which is often.
Bright, bright, bright
Wishes and solutions are brewing and bubbling.
I can see clearly now, which means perceiving the obstacles, but also finding some potential for hope and joy in that bright, bright, bright sunshiney day…
We are here, that counts
We are here. That counts.
There are reasons to be here, even when I can’t remember them. Things shift and change.
There are baby bunnies hiding under my car who will come out and play, there are good smells after the rains.
And there are next steps: praying towards, resting into, keeping on keeping on. Let’s keep going.
Question!
I’m currently working on bonus material about how I relate to time and map out my quarters, and am pretty sure I have all the parts that I think are important, is there anything you want to know more about specifically?
Drop any questions or thoughts here…
And! Anyone who gives to Barrington’s Discretionary (see below) this summer will get these by email as soon as I finish editing them…
Come play in the comments, I love company!
Share anything sparked for you while reading, or add anything you’d like to into the pot, the healing power of the collective is no small thing, companionship helps.
A request
If you received clues or perspective or want to send appreciation for the writing and work/play we do here, I appreciate it tremendously. Working on some stuff to offer this coming year, but between traumatic brain injury recovery & Long Covid, slow going.
I am accepting support (with joy & gratitude) in the form of Appreciation Money to Barrington’s Discretionary Fund. Asking is not where my strength resides but Brave & Stalwart is the theme these days, and pattern-rewriting is the work, it all helps with fixing the many broken things.
And if those aren’t options, I get it, you can light a candle for support (or light one in your mind!), share this with someone who loves words, tell people about these techniques, approaches and themes, send them here, it all helps, it’s all welcome, and I appreciate it and you so much. ❤️
Fall Gleaming
Happy week!
Happy Thursday to most of you and Almost-Thursday for me…
FYI I am still somehow on twitter which is now X, and sucks, but I’m there (@havi), just barely hanging on but you can still find me there for now, and am on bluesky, same handle: havi.bsky.social
Last week we talked about Latibulation, slow process, fun words, recovery and solitude, and before that we covered new moon wishes and new moon rituals.
Today I’m talking about Fall Gleaming (the autumnal version of spring cleaning), some tricks that are helping with my to-do list, and we also cover baking, nihilism, and celebrating a breakdown. It’s a fun ride.
Fall Gleaming
A fit, of sorts
I have been in a fit of Fall Gleaming this week, which took me by surprise, this being of course what I call the autumnal version of spring cleaning…
A fit? A fury? A need.
Obsessively drawn towards, occupying my mind.
The autumnal version of spring cleaning…
It sweeps in suddenly (haha, it sweeps in) and takes me by surprise every time. Does it sweep me off my feet? Okay, enough broom-related jokes.
For me, this autumnal drive to sweep everything clean comes in stronger than the spring cleaning urge.
In spring I do often feel a gentle but steady pull towards harmonizing my space, an urge towards congruencing.
The fall version feels more intense.
Intensity
Fall for me is more intense. Pre-fall, really. The days here are getting a little darker a little earlier. I find myself reaching for a sweatshirt in the mornings.
It’s still summer and fully 90 degrees Fahrenheit today (32 C), but I can feel the shift coming, and with it, my strong desire for everything to be cleared out and renewed, questioned.
Does this belong in my life? Do I belong in my life? Who am I in relation to my space?
Desire
I find myself craving a great whooshing out. An emptying. Everything must go! Everything must be dusted!
Also, I don’t even understand how or why so many things ended up in my space, who agreed to this?
This is one of the great mysteries of living alone.
How is the sink full of dishes again? Who put this here and for what purpose?
Who agreed to this? (Oh, it was me again!)
At some point, I allowed my space to be taken over by visual reminders about projects I have already forgotten.
We meet again, my great nemesis, the eternal ADHD conundrum of [out of sight out of mind] versus do not underestimate my ability to ignore a visual reminder!
On the other hand, a nice thing about traumatic brain injury (and long covid brain fog days) is that I can’t stay confused about this long, because I’m on to being confused about the next thing, like why am I holding this glass of water???
Why am I holding this glass of water?
It’s not the glass I use to drink from.
I remember just enough to know that I poured it from the filtered water pitcher, not the sink. And it’s not for watering a plant because my plants died during the brutal winter cold spell.
Figure eights of confusion
I wandered back and forth in my extremely small space for the longest time, holding the glass in my hand, tracing a path of compact figure-eights.
It is very tiresome to exist in a state of near-permanent confusion.
Until I found the ice cube tray I’d set on the counter just before filling the glass with water.
Solved!
The water was for the ice cube tray, good job, babe, you figured it out.
Nothing but surprises when your brain can’t hold onto anything…
I am the protagonist in Memento, whose name I also cannot remember, except instead of trying to solve the murder of someone I love but not remembering anything beyond that, I am trying and failing to solve the tiniest mysteries imaginable.
But we get there eventually, and that counts.
Taking me (by surprise)
After a month of bed rest, I have been enjoying getting to spend multiple hours out of bed, but am also trying to take it easy and not send myself right back into bed mode.
This weekend I was compelled to do a deep clean of my tiny closet, and then that was not enough, I also had to pull out the tiny refrigerator to clean behind it (and rescue several tiny spoons), and then back to bed again.
No one expects it
No one expects the Spanish Inquisition or the autumnal desire to have everything be crisp, clean and new.
At least I don’t, even though the latter happens just about every year.
What is it about Fall Gleaming
It’s a mystery to me but also a beautiful one. I like fall with its crisp air and promises of fresh notebooks, anticipation, sweet honey cake, vibrant colors, new beginnings.
Noticing that I am also experiencing some trepidation about winter out in the wild wilds, will I get two new windows installed in time, will I get the plumbing fixed before the pipes freeze again, it comes so fast, I am not ready.
But also: it is not possible to be ready. And that too is part of this seasonal shift.
The question ran away, but I am still here
What is it about fall gleaming?
It just feels important that everything get refreshed, dusted off, reconsidered, re-evaluated.
I re-read my wishes from summer solstice, from spring equinox, from winter solstice…
Some are still here, renewing themselves, and some were solved and resolved (it solves itself!), and some surprised me: was that what I wanted? And why?
Pac-man ops
Because my energy and focus are both limited commodities these days, I rely heavily on a technique I refer to as pac-man ops.
Ops as in secret ops, pac-man referring to the act of gobbling up all the colored dots and power pellets.
The point of pac-man ops is to break down my list into tiny steps (CWUs, Complete Willingness Units), rename them to be more palatable, and then to gobble them up speedily as if I am playing pac-man.
The fifteen minute burst
I cannot pac-man my list all day, there are simply too many things needing to be gobbled up, and I am not able to sustain that.
If I try to pac-man as much as possible, I will go straight into avoidance mechanisms or blankness.
Knowing that I’m only going to be in pac-man mode for fifteen minutes makes it more palatable.
Pac-man mode as a form of gleaming
Eating up the bullet points on my list is like vacuuming up my list. It feels good.
It gives new meaning to biting the bullet. Sorry. Can’t stop won’t stop (making puns). It seems to be the only part of my brain that works reliably.
Freshness and refreshing
I like that not everything needs to be sparkling clean, and I can’t even wish that for myself or for my space because of these limitations on my focus and energy.
It’s like I exist inside of a haiku, there are only so many syllables that can form my day.
Choose wisely.
What needs to be refreshed? What would help the most and what is the smallest possible step?
The rudest first draft
This is my favorite technique lately when dealing with customer service, which I am quite a bit these days, especially with some companies who seem to be engaging in behavior that I can only describe as nefarious.
I get so stuck trying to come up with a script or how to phrase my situation because I don’t want to be rude to the people working for these companies, it’s not their fault, it’s the company.
Giving myself permission to start with The Rudest First Draft circumvents this frustration.
Found in translation
Instead of starting from the blank page, I can simply edit my rude first draft into something less rude.
Stop fucking stealing from me, you fucking thieves becomes Please expedite my refund request.
It’s so elegant, the art of translation. I enjoy this part more than I expect.
Sometimes I pretend I’m translating for a friend. That helps too.
This is also a form of gleaming
Gleaming is refining, and refining is something I do in the kitchen, making the same recipe or dish dozens of times, changing one element each time.
The art of small shifts, slow and steady, the practice is the practice.
Texted my chef friend this week:
Back on my (coconut chai gluten-free vegan banana bread) bullshit.
The art of pre-breakfast
I make this banana bread at least once a week, if not more, as part of my commitment to Cake For Breakfast, the Art of Pre-Breakfast, and being a Slutty Flavor Maximalist.
It is outrageously delicious. I bake it in the tiniest toaster oven that looks like a child’s toy, each time it seems like it won’t work, and then it does. That’s a clue too.
That’s a clue too
Also I deeply love that banana bread itself is a secret op, it is cake in disguise.
Sometimes it gets embellished with a vanilla chai icing and sometimes it is already over the top all on its own.
If I take a bite and make a little sound, things are working.
Refining and refining again
There is something beautiful in the repetition, and experiencing this through baking helps me with gleaming, because clean-up and organizing can get me feeling frustrated.
It is useful for me to remember that repetition is part of tending, and fall gleaming is about tending to my surroundings, being in conscious relationship with the container that holds me, the ship I sail on…
A surprise crash (the kind that makes noise)
There is a teardrop shaped mirror hanging in my bedroom, it has been hanging there exactly two years, and this week I got a text out of the blue from the local handyperson who put it up.
He said, Just checking in to see how you are doing, hope all is good.
That afternoon, I was walking through the bedroom (probably trying to solve a mystery like what is this glass of water for???), and the mirror came crashing down off the wall, missing me by maybe two inches, or let’s say five centimeters.
A close call.
Miracles, miracles
Miraculously the mirror did not strike me.
Miraculously the mirror also did not break. It did make quite a dent in the floor, and I taped down the splinters (after forgetting why I was holding tape, but only forgetting once), and maybe this is a clue about needing a rug.
In further miracles, the mirror being off the wall revealed that there was an outlet behind it, and maybe that will be useful for something, who knows.
The space is renovating itself at this point. Fall gleaming has its own schedule, its own ideas.
Removing
I am thinking about redecorating as an act of removing things, erasing, deleting, undoing.
But also as an act of allowing.
Remove and refine. Let things shift as they may.
This is not easy for me but it is certainly intriguing.
A surprise crash (the existential kind)
Sometimes I crash from over-exertion, and I never know what will constitute over-exertion, but suddenly bed.
And sometimes I crash emotionally, which can sometimes feel the same as physically at first.
Incoming incomings
Have feeling a new something (?) coming in. A new aesthetic? A new look/feel & sensibility?
More like a new set of passions, a new incoming self coming in.
Not sure what it’s about yet, just that it’s very different from what has been.
A period of entry, the space of the pre-
I guess we will keep sleeping on it and baking on it and reading recipes, following clues, refining, sweeping, napping, sustaining, breathing cool evening air on the porch, watching the baby bunnies play.
This period of entry to whatever is coming (new year, equinox, what else) feels very powerful and mysterious, and yet again I only care about recipes.
Talk breakfast cake to me. Talk pre-breakfast to me.
The useful breakdown
The thing that generally gets me out of a breakdown is a good obsession, obsessing over green chile salad dressing, for example.
But my current bizarre and interesting breakdown is specifically related to Fall Gleaming.
Slowly slowly
Slowly over time I am getting to know this new, as yet unknown Incoming who genuinely wants everything either gone and out of my space, or put in the correct place, or maybe there is no correct place, but it’s very clear that it all needs to be out of sight.
And I either need to nap or just gather up everything I own and take it to the thrift store because I simply do not wish to look at it anymore.
What is useful about this breakdown?
Breaking down is what I do with cardboard boxes, it is the act of making something unwieldy into something compact.
Breaking down into the elements, a decomposition.
An uncomplicating. How’s that for a word and concept? What would that be like?
Storm clues
Sometimes breaking down is simply about the storm before the calm.
Yes, I know it’s usually the opposite, but sometimes we need to fall apart before we can have the new clarity. Did I say we, I meant me.
Sometimes we need to make a big mess before the rearranging. What if that’s okay?
Pac-man, again
Pac-man gains in powers just like Popeye the Sailor.
Sometimes I can experience this sensation of Gain In Powers from being in pac-man mode, from small wins where I can find them, from cleaning a shelf and enjoying that it is clean.
Reduce and destroy. Gain in powers. Rest. Rest some more.
Refine the process. Add compassion. Start over.
The treasure in this
There is treasure for me in the craving and in the breakdown, in the pull towards fall gleaming, and in the days when it is on hold because I need to rest some more or because I forgot what I was doing, or because I am overwhelmed by emotion.
There is treasure for me even when I forget that there is treasure.
Going granular
Sometimes (usually), I make projects too big and then they become impossible, when what I actually need is to go granular.
One shelf, wiped down slowly and lovingly. One rude first draft and one translation.
Trust in the fractal process, each step counts, each breakdown counts, each back to bed is a refinement too.
Maybe. I think it is.
A conversation that, like all my conversations, takes place in my head
Havi: I feel very far from dream life, I feel overwhelmed by wanting, but also I feel overwhelmed by living in a very tiny space with everything I own.
What do I know about dream life? I know that I am living it in my connection with nature, and I know that I am craving this fall gleaming in part because my physical space needs to change.
Dream life self: Yes, there is physically too much stuff in your space. You have your best ideas when you have expansiveness, a clear line of sight.
Havi: I need a good obsession again.
A good obsession again, and again
Dream life self: It will be easier to obsess over what you want to obsess over (TBD) when your space is clear, interior design is your everything, but it has to be for you, how do you want your space to be for you, that’s the question.
Assume the space is perfect as is, nothing needs to change, just to empty / be emptied.
What does that mean?
Havi: What does that mean? Nothing needs to change, just to empty / be emptied, what does it mean?
Dream life self: Sleep on it.
Nihilism Daddy
I took this from a podcast episode of You Are Good, and now I cannot remember which episode or what the context was, I was just so delighted by the phrase, and then one of my incoming selves immediately borrowed it.
Now whenever I have questions or worries, Nihilism Daddy has thoughts, and I love this.
As we know it (and I feel fine)
Havi: I don’t know what to do or what to think… Is that true or is that a monster story, I can’t tell, everything feels vague and uncertain.
Nihilism Daddy self: It’s the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine…
And! Do you know what else? Decadence is a great pursuit for end times but so is creative gardening. Use your cookbooks. Keep making cake.
Yes to vanilla chai icing. Yes to being okay with being surprised. Did you know that a good breakdown is a wondrous thing? It is. Practice celebrating the breakdown.
Fall Gleaming: next steps
Fall gleaming is a power-up, just like being pac-man and eating up all the obstacles like they are treats.
Fall gleaming is a process, slow and steady, symbolic progress, everything counts.
Fall gleaming is about asking the questions, moving things around, changing the settings.
Yes, change your setting, and also change your settings.
Cake first. Rude first drafts. Get a little silly with naming things. Celebrate. Why not.
Yes, celebrating, why not
It’s the end of the world as we know it, and we’re celebrating the breakdown, or at least acknowledging it and raising a glass (of water, possibly a mystery glass, what is it for, it’s for toasting the breakdown…)
Celebrating the breakdown, putting icing on everything, having a dance party, going back to bed, cleaning one (1) shelf, keeping on keeping on. Brave and stalwart.
Let’s keep going.
Question!
I’m currently working on bonus material about how I relate to time and map out my quarters, and am pretty sure I have all the parts that I think are important, is there anything you want to know more about specifically?
Drop any questions or thoughts here…
And! Anyone who gives to Barrington’s Discretionary (see below) this summer will get these by email as soon as I finish editing them…
Come play in the comments, I love company!
Share anything sparked for you while reading, or add anything you’d like to into the pot, the healing power of the collective is no small thing, companionship helps.
A request
If you received clues or perspective or want to send appreciation for the writing and work/play we do here, I appreciate it tremendously. Working on some stuff to offer this coming year, but between traumatic brain injury recovery & Long Covid, slow going.
I am accepting support (with joy & gratitude) in the form of Appreciation Money to Barrington’s Discretionary Fund. Asking is not where my strength resides but Brave & Stalwart is the theme these days, and pattern-rewriting is the work, it all helps with fixing the many broken things.
And if those aren’t options, I get it, you can light a candle for support (or light one in your mind!), share this with someone who loves words, tell people about these techniques, approaches and themes, send them here, it all helps, it’s all welcome, and I appreciate it and you so much. ❤️