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.
Wish 302: not throwing
Personal ads. They’re … personal! Very.
♡
Away.
As you know, I am currently on Shmita, a grand adventure in Not Doing, also known as a sabbatical.
And this is happening on the road in the form of Operation True Yes, aka Six Month Road Trip aka Possibly Unending Road Trip, which is where I am learning to live by my yes.
One of the interesting things about living by the yes, of course, is that our yes changes, constantly. That’s because we are living, breathing, dynamic creatures in a the beautiful, complex ever-shifting process of life, and that is how being alive works.
So I’ve been dealing with some of the fall-out or consequences of yes. Mostly of the times I am not being true to my yes, and sometimes when I am learning how to be true to my yes.
Sure is not exactly the same as yes, but so close that you can get them confused.
I was supposed to be in Salt Lake City this month, and Salt Lake City was not my yes, but racing at the racetrack there was a big yes for my lover, and he is a big joy-spark of yes for me, and it’s not like I had anything else going on, and my main yes is to rest, replenish and write, and I can kind of do that from anywhere.
So it wasn’t my yes, but it was a sure, yeah, okay.
Then I had an opportunity to go on a solo adventure while he goes on a motorcycle trip, and that was a big yes, and I found a flight out of SLC to [secret location], and that felt very yes as well.
Last week we both suddenly realized that neither of us has a yes for Salt Lake right now. My lover still has a yes for the track, but the now part of it is no longer a yes. Then a new plan emerged which filled us both with delight, and that was pretty exciting.
Throwaway.
I know an agent (double-meaning!) who works for United Airlines, and we had the following conversation…
She: Whoa-my-god you got an amazing price on that ticket.
Me: I know! Except I can’t use it now because it turns out I won’t be in Salt Lake City after all. I need to fly out of San Francisco instead.
She: I’m sorry, babe. It’s going to be $200 to change the ticket, and you got it for the airline equivalent of small change. It’s a throwaway. Let it go and forget about it. Get another ticket and pretend this never happened.
Throw. Away.
I shrugged it off, except then, about an hour later, all my monsters showed up and they were Not Happy.
They object strenuously to this concept of throwing away something you had already paid for, and they were not willing to let it go.
I mean, we are talking giant monster fits and jumping up and down on monster trampolines and yelling at me about how this is not fair.
Which, I get it, they have a point, and I tried to agree with them on that, but it turned out this wasn’t what they were actually upset about. Mainly it was the idea that I could be someone who throws things away, and here’s where things got a little nasty, because they were furious about that.
Monsters: What kind of wasteful, extravagant, terrible person just THROWS MONEY AWAY. You screw up everything! It’s not like you have piles of money sitting around. Can we remind you that you have irresponsibly taken off work for a year? How can you just make stupid plans and pay for them and then change them every time you get a new yes? You will be THROWING AWAY MONEY forever, and it is not okay!
So we talked about this. And then we talked about approach.
How can we look at this through a new lens? What if throwing away doesn’t have to be wasteful? Or what if we aren’t throwing anything away at all?
What are some new ways of looking at [throwaway]?
1. True Yes Tuition.
It’s tuition. It’s YES tuition. These are the costs of learning to say yes to my yes, and waiting for true yes.
I knew my yes wasn’t being in SLC but I went along with it anyway.
Then I got more clear, and look how great that was, because now I get all my yeses: Not being in SLC right now while it’s snowy, not driving twelve hours to get there, not spending three days at the track, not having to go back right after my Adventure. And I get to have lunch with Jane!
So, come on. This is pretty great. I get nothing but YES, and all I had to do to get here was pay an extra $83? Fantastic, that is a terrific deal.
Plus, I got a bonus course in not saying yes to things unless they are really my yes. I love investing in True Yes Tuition. Nothing was thrown away at all.
2. Investing in escape routes.
If I were in a miserable situation, would I pay $83 to get out of it? Yeah!
Awesome. I just did that but in advance. I am paying the money now to not be in a situation I don’t want.
Like a TIP, in the sense of To Insure Promptness. I am paying a tip in advance to insure the promptness of me not being in Salt Lake when I don’t want to be, whee!
3. Try on these glasses for a minute.
I try very hard not to promote reality theories on the blog.
There are so many ways to look at — or play with — reality, with our perceptions of how things work, or how they might work.
I don’t have an interest telling people how how to view the workings of the universe. We’re all sovereign beings. We can figure out our own philosophical approach to life and aliveness.
However, I quite enjoy trying on reality theories, like glasses, and then I can see things in a new way, remembering the whole time that it’s the glasses, and I can switch glasses whenever I like.
Here’s one of my favorite pairs of glasses:
In yoga philosophy, we talk about how everything is maya (illusion).
I have also quoted a teacher of mine in Israel, Orna Sela, and how she would say kol ma shenegdi ashlaya — everything that is against me is an illusion.
So. Everything is an illusion. Money is not real, and acting like it is real (oh no, my $83!) infuses this temporal experience with false power, taking away power from what is real. Namely soul and expansiveness and qualities. Not to mention taking care of my avatar and enjoying the glorious ride.
So the $83 is a figment, and the most powerful thing I can do is say thank you and enjoy the delight of swimming in this beautiful illusion.
4. Whee!
Kind of like the above except more playful, silly, just enjoying the idea that I can throw this money away. Remembering that of course there is enough because of course there is enough.
WHEE! THROWING MONEY IN THE AIR LIKE SCROOGE MCDUCK ON A BIG PILE OF MONEY!
It’s a joyful expression of celebratory goofiness, or maybe that’s goofy celebration: Money can’t be thrown away since there is always more, it’s just being thrown around as I express my delight in aliveness.
I toss these thirty eight dollars in the air, trusting that these are not the last thirty eight dollars and there will always be more, and it is safe to throw things around joyfully, knowing that they or their friends will find their way back to you, because there will always be enough.
Play and trust. Trust and play. Trust in play.
What do I know about my wish?
It’s related to last week’s wish of being (that is: remembering that I already am) a Great Adventuress.
And part of being an adventuress is not being phased by changes of plans, associated costs, investing in the adventure, laughing delightedly at the scary parts and holding on for dear life.
What else do I know about what I want?
Throwing things away can be freeing, liberating. Like when you are in a year of Easing and Releasing, which I am.
Throwing things away means letting go of everything that does not spark joy.
Throwing things away can be surrender.
Throwing things away can be like tashlich, when you cast bread crumbs into the river on the new year, relinquishing everything you regret or no longer need from the previous year:
Everything that is done, everything that no longer serves me: I release you.
I can do this with a plane ticket. I can do this with $83. I can do this with anything. It is safe to let things go.
It is safe to let this go.
What else do I know about this?
Wishes are never about the thing I think I’m wishing for, and always about identity and safety and permission.
So of course my monsters would be up in arms about me letting things go. They’re worried about the parts of me that I might want to let go.
Letting go can feel like death: sudden irreplaceable loss.
So I want to remember that this letting go is about a coming into. An emerging.
And I will have everything I need for this adventure. It is safe for me to say goodbye to these things.
It is not a throwing away. It is a liberation. Crossing over. Breaking free. Let’s drop things that are heavy. That’s what she meant by calling it a throwaway:
You don’t have to carry this anymore.
Now.
I am poaching internet from a hotel I stayed in once — having conveniently remembered that their password is the same as the zipcode, and I am inordinately pleased about this.
Out the window there is a white sign that says REALTY in bold red letters, but I read it as Reality, because the hologram is hilarious. The strawberry really is wonderfully sweet.
Me: Hey, slightly-wiser me, what do you have for me?
She: I know this morning you were kind of stressing out about how it’s already Tuesday and you hadn’t written the wishes. I just want to remind you about how All Timing Is Right Timing, and assure you that even if you don’t know why, this is the exact right time to be doing this.
Me: Thank you. I do get into my head about that one.
She: Well, trust me on this one. This is right.
Clues?
My lover and I stayed at a lovely BnB last night, and hanging in the entrance was a bell. Follow the bells, Havi Bell.
The superpower of I have everything I need for this.
The quality for April is ADVENTURE, and it comes with the marvelous superpower of I have everything I need for this.
May it be so.
I could breathe this in a hundred times a day: I have everything I need for this.
Yes. Thank you.
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 Adventuress?…
This was one of those wishes that I didn’t expect to come true right away, more about just seeding some ideas for later.
Surprisingly enough though, I did actually have a fairly adventurous week, which included a close encounter with a BEAR, and also suggesting (much to my own astonishment) to the boy that we go zip-lining. He thought that sounded stupid since he does way more exciting things all the time, but the point is that I suggested doing something terrifying instead of hoping no one else would want to do it.
And I even managed to turn something that didn’t sound that much fun into its own Grand Adventure. So this one is working for me and I like it.
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 351: Schrodinger.
It is Friday and we are here.
{a breath for Friday.}
What worked this week?
Asking the question “What do I want?”
This was actually the only question I wrote in my journal this week. Every day, on repeat, anywhere between five and twenty times. What do I want. What do I want. What do I want. Got some fantastic intel.
Counting all the things that are not real.
This is almost like a parallel technique to naming things and saying “I am here”. Except in this version I remember the wisdom from yoga philosophy: everything is maya, illusion.
I walked around saying thank you to all the beautiful illusions:
Thank you, sweet illusion of rocks. Thank you, illusion of feet that allow me to stand on rocks. Thank you, illusion of bright red toenails, chipping a little more each day along with the illusion, and thank you, illusion in which I notice this and wonder if I am going to be near civilization anytime soon, thank you illusion of civilization, thank you, (illusion of this) beautiful moment of playing this game of counting illusions.
I’m not sure why this was so incredibly calming and steadying, but it was.
Next time I might…
Have my buffer phrases in hand.
I used to have a list on my phone of buffer phrases so that if I got triggered by a situation or ran into some unsovereign bullshit, I could look up what to do. Things like “that doesn’t work for me” and “I’m going to need to get back to you on that.”
Oh, right! Here’s one that works so well for so many problematic situations:
”Hey, you know what? I am feeling really uncomfortable right now.”
Anyway, time to make a list again. I’m adding some new ones, including “Hey! No food-shaming in the kingdom!” And: “Wow. That is not okay.”
Eight breaths for the hard, challenging and mysterious.
- The mystery of why I question my right to feel upset when someone does something obnoxious. Double-especially when they do it with malicious intent in the interest of boundary-testing. This always makes me think of Straight Man, the Richard Russo novel. There is a character, a not particularly likable character, who has this same flaw. A breath for glowingly healthy boundaries, and for trusting myself.
- Sometimes when something upsetting happens, I kind of go into shock and can’t react. And then while I’m figuring out my own reaction (see above), I make the mistake of looking to others for social cues instead of trusting my own sense of what happened. if no one else reacts, I begin to second-guess my take on things. Also nothing is more frustrating (for me) than a total WTF moment happening, and everyone else reacting like this is normal. Oh, are we not talking about the elephant in the room who just took a dump on my lap or did no one actually see that or does everyone else just think this is okay? A breath for healing all forms of collective cultural gaslighting, and for restoring what needs to be restored.
- I have a page from my journal scribbling that says, “Bless everything by saying ‘thank you for revealing yourself to me’. Joy reminded me this week of Maya Angelou saying this better: “When someone shows you who they are believe them; the first time.” Someone showed me who he is (untrustworthy) almost immediately after having met me, and this person will apparently be spending a large portion of the summer with me, and I have feelings about this. Also, in my experience, when someone tests a boundary in a big way right off the bat, that person is a) a toddler, b) an abuser, c) a compulsive liar, or d) someone who never grew up. So that happened and it’s not okay, and let’s have another breath here for boundaries, and for trusting my instincts, and for thank you for revealing yourself to me.
- We all reveal things, all the time, and what I revealed in that situation is that I’m not great at boundaries either. A breath for recognizing when I am agreeing to be an outlet to someone else’s messed-up plug, and for not doing that anymore. Let’s not do that anymore
- Did you ever watch Burn Notice? I am thinking of that part in the opening when Bruce Campbell always says, “You know spies, bunch of bitchy little girls…” Anyway, turns out this apparently describes climbers as well as spies. I am learning a lot about climbing culture on this trip, and there are aspects I admire, and some parts I don’t love, and the one that is going to drive me out of my mind is the gossiping about other climbers who aren’t there. You would not believe the things people say about other people. Things no one would ever say to anyone’s face, or if they would, then that might even be worse. My dislike of gossip is the main reason I don’t spend more time in the dance community, and to suddenly find it here is distressing. A breath for standing up and walking away every time it happens.
- My patience level for food-shaming and disordered eating bullshit, disguised as teasing or not disguised at all, either way: nonexistent. This is apparently a thing in climbing culture too, my traveling companion and I have different theories as to why this is. I don’t actually care. Here’s what I think about this:
We are all sovereign beings who are completely capable of deciding how much or how little or how often we need or wish to be nourished in the form of food, and NO COMMENTARY on this is required or welcome, ever. People vary, and the amount of food they need and want varies, and no one gets to be the judge of what goes into my body because it’s my body and I live there, and they do not live there.
I feel very strongly about this principle, and about the idea that food should be joyful. I don’t want to be around people who don’t know this, I don’t want to breathe the same air as food-shame, it can go up in flames as far as I’m concerned. I do not agree to be around this, which means I will either be setting lots of boundaries this summer or eating alone a lot. A breath for sovereignty, and for my wish for a new external culture that matches the one in my internal kingdom.
- The situation in the building where the Playground lived: still unresolved and still not okay, and I am still waiting for things to move. A breath for sweet hope.
- 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.
- This week was sweet and easy, I kind of floated through it (until yesterday, when everything from the above list showed up) on a breeze of happy peacefulness. To the point that I even had some hilarious Ludicrous Fear Popcorn that I wouldn’t be able to write the Chicken because what if nothing hard happens. Hahaha, that is a marvelous ludicrous fear. And, no worries, the hard came just in time. A breath for getting to experience this deep ease, and having a taste of what I am like when my life takes place mostly outdoors, and features yoga, naps, long walks and very little work. Delight! .
- My sweet, thoughtful, extremely attractive traveling companion and that way he smiles at me. A breath for meltiness, and for closeness.
- My knee is well again! I went for long walks in the hills every single day, without the brace, and felt great. I got to have yoga in the sun. I balanced on rocks and did secret spirals for an hour straight, most of that on either one leg or the other. A breath for this beautiful miracle.
- The beautiful boy and I had this wonderful shared moment on our evening walk. It suddenly dawned on us that we didn’t actually want to go to Salt Lake City this weekend (we were supposed to take off last night for Reno and then salt lake tomorrow), and we started scrapping our entire plan for the month of May, and then everything began shifting and reconfiguring and falling into place, and — like magic — we instantly had this shiny, new, fun, way-better-in-all-ways plan that both of us were really excited about. A breath for sudden Joy Sparks!
- We then went skipping — skipping! —down the trail, laughing our heads off for half an hour. A breath for being almost forty and also five at the same time .
- I was brave and shared my feelings and said, hey, this is my stuff! A breath for the this.
- I am getting better at standing up for my yes. A breath for this.
- Thankfulness. So much is good. Yosemite really is just spectacularly, intensely gorgeous. Holding hands. Blackberry smoothies in the camper. Everything beautifully reconfiguring inside of the matrix. The wonderful people of Twitter all validating my first impression. Everything is okay. Nothing is wrong. Now is not then. All Timing Is Right Timing. Thankful for joy, presence, pleasure, Shmita and 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!
Okay so I had more business ideas this week than in the past three years put together, apparently this is another very funny side effect of being on sabbatical. It was great fun writing them down and then folding them away for future me, should she ever be in the mood to play with them, and if not: no problem. I am not attached to any of this, it’s all creative play, and that feels amazing. More research on Operation Adventures In Reverberation and the Rogue Ops for August! Thank you fractal flowers, thank you Shmita, thank you Switch/Swoop. Wham Boom.
Superpowers I had this week…
I had the superpower of being a great adventuress!
And the superpower of asking people to remind me of truth. And the superpower of Hilariously Good Surprises.
Powers I want.
Deep Trust In All Is Well, and Of Course I Only Go With Yes.
Also the superpower of Haha Yet Again Something Which Appeared To Be An Obstacle Is In Fact The Opposite of an Obstacle!
The Salve of Of Course I Only Go With Yes.
When I wear this salve, the first thing I notice is that there is no reason to doubt myself.
It’s as if you forgot to pack your doubt to bring to the beach like you always do, and suddenly it turns out you don’t need doubt at the beach and you never have, so now you can just cross that off your beach day packing list forever.
I feel a surge of steadying grace, like a charge. Of course I trust my instinct, of course I trust my indicated next step, of course I trust the pull towards what is right for me.
When I wear this salve, I have the superpower of Taking A Breath before I respond to any request. Is this my yes? And then, if it isn’t, which it probably isn’t, I am unhesitating with my sweet, generous no.
Playing live at the meme beach house — the Fake Band of the Week!
This week’s band comes to us from Holly (metachaos), and it’s called Shrodinger’s Fuckhead, and it is my new favorite band. They play Pogues-infused zydeco, and it’s actually just one guy.
And my upcoming Biopic…
How Much Room Is There In Her Life For Assholes? There Is Zero Room In Her Life For Assholes. 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. Some of us share hard and good, some of us say hi, or maybe we’re feeling quiet. My ritual doesn’t have to be your ritual. Whatever works for you. We’ve been doing this every week for years now and there still isn’t a right way. Feel free to leave pebbles (or petals!), hearts, warmth, sweetness. Those always work.
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 301: Adventuress?
Personal ads. They’re … personal! Very.
♡
The Grand Adventuress.
April is, according to the uncannily insightful Fluent Self 2015 calendar, the Month of Adventure.
We are now twelve days into this month, and many interesting and unanticipated situations and clues have come up, all of which I now somewhat belatedly realize are connected to adventuring….
1. I had a dream about being in a tent.
It was a very lovely dream. Well, except for the part where my dance teacher’s mother kicked me out of her home and said horrible things about me.
But the tent part was lovely. It felt cozy and safe, like a sanctuary. Like a blanket fort. And Marisa was there. It was such a good dream.
To be clear, I have such a paralyzing fear of tents — Tisantaphobia!— two summers ago I made it ten seconds inside of one, with the opening unzipped so I could breathe, before fleeing, and then felt shaky and horrible the rest of the day.
But suddenly dream-me is okay with tents. Something is moving.
2. Motorcycle trip.
My traveling companion is going on an eight day motorcycle trip next month, and I will be using that time for a secret op called Adventures in Reverberation.
My op is clearly a thousand times better (for me, yes?) than a motorcycle trip.
For one thing, my op will involve showering. Also excellent food, writing, sleeping in, laundry, and did I mention showering.
(I’m currently on Day 32 of a six month road trip, which has featured a grand total of six showers thus far, so the thought of showering every single day is rather alluring.)
But here’s the interesting part. There is a part of me who wants to go on an eight day motorcycle trip in the future. There is a part of me who is very curious about the details and about how she might make it work for her.
This is new. Because me of twelve days ago would just have said no thanks.
And even backpacking has morphed from “you hike while carrying stuff and avoiding bears, who wants that” to “interesting, maybe”.
3. Igloo.
I went into an old email account this week. An old one, from when free email accounts were an exciting new innovation.
I remember how fun it was to invent a password, I remember looking up at the ceiling and smiling. I loved that apartment, the first one I shared with my husband in Tel Aviv, but this is before we were married. I want to say 1997?
There was something I wanted in that account, and it wasn’t there, but there was an update from a yoga studio there, that was back when a yoga studio was a brand new concept too, at least in the middle east.
It was a piece about meditation, written by one of the yoga teachers, in Hebrew, it was kind of boring and I was skimming, and then she described getting to the point where she stopped having an agenda about meditation, or about anything:
All she wanted was to sit down and not do anything, not mess around with changing the breath, no worrying about posture, just to sit down and skip all the yoga poses and not do anything.
Then suddenly everything softened and it was like she was in this sweet igloo that was all her own, and she didn’t care about any of the usual life stuff of what if X or Y said this other thing, and everything was just quiet and steady.
Normally I would think, Yeah, resonance, but that image does not work for me at all: claustrophobic AND made of ice? Get me out of the igloo! I want to be ANYWHERE but an igloo!
Except suddenly that sounded good. Wild Adventuress me was like, yeah let’s go be quiet and still in an isolated place which is made out of nature, we want this.
We do? Huh. I’m pretty sure I want to be wearing a sundress in the sun! But the feeling, something about that was a big yes.
4. Building.
The beautiful boy loves to build things, and always has some sort of project in the works involving a house or a van or an electric car or whatever.
And I listen to these plans with a giant smile on my face because I feel pleasure when my lover is happy and excited.
But when he started talking about earthships and completely sustainable self-contained off-grid homes…
Suddenly seventeen year old me came back and was very, very excited. She worked in the orchards and climbed trees all day, covered in mud, sore muscles, always tan, sinking deep into sleep the second her head met the pillow.
She liked to perch at the top of a tree, peeling a grapefruit, easily balanced, relying on a combination of core strength and the trust that if she fell, the tree would give her another good landing point. Clippers in her belt, small hand-saw, pants so caked in dirt they could probably have stood up on their own.
She was so happy she was almost bouncing, and suddenly it was just all joy sparks. This is what I want. Being outdoors. Using my body. Building something.
5. Solo hike.
This week I walked for an hour or so by myself, in the sun, in the middle of nowhere.
Without my knee brace!
No one around. Just me, trees, and happy butterflies.
Normally I wouldn’t have done this, or would have been fretting the whole time, just in that kind of general neurotic, pre-programmed jewish way, about All The Things That Could Go Horribly Wrong.
But now it is April, the month of Adventure. I felt strong, capable, alert, happy, steady, peaceful.
What do I want?
Each morning on Shmita, I ask this question in my notebook:
What do I want?
And then I sit with that question for ten to twenty minutes. Sometimes I have a lot of answers, sometimes I stare into space and let the question skip like a stone in the waters of my mind.
What do I want? I want to feel like a Grand Adventuress.
What does that mean?
Remember when Max said, “Havi, you are a great adventuress! You are! If this were the 19th century, everyone would be reading your biography!”.
One of the reasons that cheered me up so much is: I don’t think of myself that way.
I think of myself as an intensely fearful, highly sensitive person who lives a kind of turtle life.
And I don’t think that’s a bad thing. I’ve been through a lot of hard things in my life, and now part of my mission is layering on experiences of safety.
I choose Safety First, I choose to take exquisite care of myself, I choose naps and baths and my favorite tea.
Hell yeah to all of that! I actually think it’s kind of brave to choose these things, inside of a culture which celebrates things like hardship, pushing, going without, making do.
But I don’t think of myself as an adventuress.
Sure, okay, I moved countries three times, by myself. And started a business with no money and grew it into something kind of amazing. I’ve taken huge risks, some of which have paid off and others which were Disasters of Spectacular Proportions, making for some pretty entertaining stories.
But I don’t think of myself as bold, daring, fun.
Well, what if I am. And also: what if I can try that on and see what it feels like?
What do I want?
I think I need someone to shake me and say, “Are you serious? At age thirty eight you put yourself on sabbatical and set off on a six month road trip to points unknown with a bunch of notebooks, the boy you like and a small camper. Are you kidding me? Of course you are a great adventuress.”
Or to supply other reasons why I might be a great adventuress.
Actually if you are reading and you know some of the reasons, feel free to remind me in the comments.
I will save them for moments when my monsters are deep in How Dare You Even Think To Appropriate This Word Which Will Never Belong To You When You Can’t Even Do Mildly Brave Things, You Can’t Even Be Around Fireworks Without Having A Panic Attack, And You High-Fived Yourself For Months Just For Getting On A Roller Coaster To Impress A Boy, You Big Embarrassing Baby.
Not that they are saying this right now or anything.
What else do I know about what I want?
I had a useful epiphany about this yesterday, actually. I figured out why I have so much resistance to the word adventure, even as I crave it.
When I was on (the retroactively named) Operation Resilience and didn’t have a place to sleep for between four to six months, depending on how you want to look at that story, and in what light you want to cast things…
I made a lot of choices in the interest of mental stability/agility, and in support of what I perceived at the time to be the only Mission, namely: surviving, and also not crossing the edge into Other/Damaged/Not-Able-To-Come-Back.
To this end, I tried pretending I was on a great adventure, by choice, and it was going to make me tougher, stronger and more resilient.
It did that, kind of, in the sense of “we’re stronger in the places that we’re broken”, but it also caused all the breaking.
And anyway, I didn’t believe my pretending.
(Now I am laughing thinking about Kenneth on 30 Rock: “Hypothetical situations are a sin because you’re lying to your mind!”)
Something else about this.
I wrote in the chicken about my tendency to go into research mode, head mode.
That’s a holdover from survival mode: mapping out possibilities in my notebook, frantic strategic planning.
The new pattern I want is grounded in presence, choice, looking to my yes, taking care of myself.
And trusting in my good fortune the way I used to when I balanced happily on tree tops. That’s how I want to adventure now.
What do I know about what I want?
There is nothing that exists outside of me. So if Adventuring is a quality, then it is already a part of me.
Now.
I am going to stand barefoot on my favorite rock in the red hills (yes, I have a favorite rock) and do the thing that used to be spirals, and watch how all the little yellow flowers appear to be nodding their heads yes as they dance with me. And I am going to say thank you thank you thank you.
Me: Hey, slightly-wiser me, what do you have for me?
She: I know you know this already, I just want to remind you: external adventures out in the world are not any more brave, valuable or important than internal adventures. If anything, they’re kind of less impressive. Now, if you want external adventures because that is your yes, go for it, I support this with all of my heart. I just want to make it clear that you do not need to go on external adventures to prove anything, if that’s a thing.
Me: Thank you, that is a good reminder. Only what is a yes. What else?
She: There is no else. There is only: Is this my yes.
Clues?
The beautiful boy and I have gone on a lovely hour-long walk in the hills each evening for the past three days. Same route. One hour exactly.
Once it seemed very long, and once it seemed very short, and once exactly an hour. One night the hill seemed so impossibly high that I was momentarily convinced we had to be on a different path. It’s all perspective. And possibly weird stuff happening in the matrix. But the thing I want to remember is perspective.
The superpower of I have everything I need for this.
The quality for April is ADVENTURE, and it comes with the marvelous superpower of I have everything I need for this. May it be so.
And thank you, past-me, who put together this calendar having no idea what April would bring, and planted such a perfect reminder: I have everything I need.
Things I find helpful for intentions and wishes…
Adventure. Rest. Horizons. Security. Passion. Sweetness. Clarity. Presence.
Progress report on past Very Personal Ads.
So. Last week, aka What do I know about yes…
Ohmygod you guys I know so much more about yes now.
After spending much of the week in aforementioned survival-strategizing research mode, I was finally able to listen to my body and really get that none of the options was my yes.
The next day, a new option showed up out of nowhere: an obvious yes in every way.
It also ended up costing $250 less than either of the not-yes plans, and thanks to a ridiculous number of Hilariously Good Surprises (the very superpower I’d asked for), I was able to get both flights for a total of $127, without using any of my miles. Also it turned out I still have miles even though I was sure I’d used them all up.
And I get to have lunch with Jane, and what could be more yes than that.
Ongoing wishes and seeds.
Attenzione! Attention, AGENTS.
If you want a Playground mug and a pack of stone skipping cards: $30 + $12.65 shipping = $42.65. Send a note and we’ll set it up. Ask for international 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 350: Slather it on.
It is Friday and we are here.
{a breath for Friday.}
And happy THREE HUNDRED AND FIFTY weeks of Chickens!
What worked this week?
Letting my body run the decision-making.
Many decisions wanted my attention this week, for example, where I might want to be in May when my traveling companion and I part ways for a week.
Turns out that decisions get surprisingly simple if I let my body make them for me. It’s so much easier when I just say no as soon as I feel the no, instead of trying to figure which option is cheaper or more convenient.
Boston: does that give me joy sparks right now? No? Fantastic. Thank you. What about San Diego? Yes to joy sparks but no to this adventure right now. Okay, done researching that!
Then I was offered a very fun sounding mission for those dates, to combine a secret dance op with a rendezvous in Brooklyn and possibly a trip to Montauk and a chance to see two beloved fellow Agents, and it was all very exciting, and I couldn’t decide what to do, except then my body said, “Sweetie, what are you even talking about, this can be so easy, we just want whichever option involves the least amount of effort and logistics, and the most amount of ease and sleep.”
Ta da! Decided. Brooklyn will have to happen some other time. For now I am going to choose according to the Mission of Less, because of course my body is right.
Next time I might…
Notice when I go into researching mode.
Often when I am trying to figure something out, I just start gathering intel because that’s something I know how to do.
Research mode whooshes me into my head, and I forget about the point of what I’m researching, which is joy and delight and presence and desire.
Remember that tuition is just that: tuition.
On Tuesday I’d narrowed down the location for my secret op: either Connecticut or Texas, long story. The east coast op required a decision that day. Hm, it didn’t require, the price was going to go up by $20 the next day. Not a huge sum of money, it’s just a mental thing.
For a moment it seemed the $20 could work as a clue. As in, “Oh well, I didn’t decide in time so I guess I’ll do the other op instead!”
Except then the other op mysteriously went up in price without warning too, by the exact same amount. Apparently $20 just is the price of learning to get out of my head.
I need to stop trying to calculate yes, and get back in my body so I can feel my yes!
Tuition is tuition, and $20 is a screaming deal if it reminds me to stop focusing on Logistics and listen to my true yes, because that’s the real op behind this op anyway.
Eight breaths for the hard, challenging and mysterious.
- The first day at the races and then the night of no sleep. A breath of easing and releasing.
- Today is Day 30 on the road, with a grand total of five showers, and I am really craving a long bath with bubbles right now. And clean hair. Then my favorite pants in the entire world acquired a weird white stain on the butt, a stain which not only did not come out at the laundromat, it is now permanently glued in. My traveling companion, who acquires clothing maybe once a decade, does not understand why walking around with a white blob on my butt means the pants are ruined, but they are. A breath for fresh, clean, crisp, new, better.
- The gigantic thunderstorm and accompanying tornado-warning (REMAIN INDOORS!), along with a few other things, kept us in Chico for most of the week instead of beautiful Yosemite as planned. A breath for acknowledgment, legitimacy and for remembering that if I’m not there, it was not my bus.
- Getting back to body stuff after two months of knee injury: I am in terrible shape and get tired easily and my body is cranky, and that’s just how things are and I don’t like it one bit. A breath for not having to like it.
- I am currently in a complicated and uncomfortable situation which requires allies for support and good counsel, and I do not know who my allies are in this yet, and this is very frustrating. A breath for trust, and for asking.
- The situation in the building where the Playground lived: still unresolved and increasingly irritating. A breath for loudly stating my No (and my Yes) on this, and for surprise exits.
- Hahahaha I was saying all day that I feel so POWERLESS about this [frustrating situation], and also about the fact that I am somehow still logging twelve hours a week on work stuff even though this is my sabbatical time, and then the next day we were in Chico and the city was literally without power for half the day. I got to take aerobics in the dark with no fans while we all listened to tinny music from someone’s phone! And then all of Chico basically just took the day off and headed to the diner. A breath for being able to laugh about Powerless.
- 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.
- Suddenly on Day 25 of Operation True Yes aka Six Month Road Trip, I got so much intel about Yes. Day 25 delivered in such a big way. Useful intel for in life in general and the current ops, and this is incredibly exciting. A breath for getting through all that no to get to yes.
- Yet again something which seemed to be an obstacle is in fact the opposite of an obstacle! A breath for joyful recognition.
- Knee is healing up well. Even when it’s unhappy, it’s still manageable. And it is much happier than not happy right now. A breath for healing.
- Making plans for the missing week was a fantastic exercise, because it required me to get much better at No vs Yes, which is the entire point of Operation True Yes! I’d been approaching this whole thing from the perspective of “yeah I could make this work”. Then I upgraded to “but this other thing would be nicer and I would prefer that”. And now I finally get it: I can approach EVERYTHING from Do I Want This. And if it doesn’t elicit that deep strong knowing of I Want This, then I don’t want it. Not just for the first week in May either. A breath for this.
- I really like traveling with the beautiful boy. I really like holding hands. I really like having a wild, hot, full-of-good-surprises affair with the beautiful boy. A breath for NARBAR (Not A Relationship: Better than A Relationship) and for these big happy smiles.
- I was brave and asked for help. A breath for the healing in that.
- I think I know what I want now. A breath for this.
- Thankfulness. So much is good. Breakfast dates at the diner. Roasted cauliflower in the camper. My amazing housemate tracked down a new pair of my favorite pants in the world, for $25, because he is magic, and will sending them to a secret drop where I can pick them up. Everything is okay. Nothing is wrong. Now is not then. All Timing Is Right Timing. Thankful for joy, presence, pleasure, Shmita and this grand adventure. A full breath of deep appreciation in my thank-you heart.
Wham booms, wisdom, superpowers, salve and FBOTW!
Operations completed. Wham boom!
I wrote so much this week! And I did obscene amounts of research for Operation Adventures In Reverberation. And had a very good idea which you will hear about later. Thank you fractal flowers, thank you Shmita, thank you Switch/Swoop. Wham Boom.
Superpowers I had this week…
I had the superpower of being excited about no!
And the superpower of crossing one street over. And the superpower of finding a bell when I needed one. And the superpower of putting out the bat signal and directing it towards Very Likely Suspects.
Powers I want.
The superpower of SUUTRAS (Sudden Unsolicited Upgrades of Treasure Radiance and Sweetness), something I adapted from Agent Annabelle.
I would also like the superpower of Seeing All The Best Exits and the superpower of It’s So Simple I Can’t Believe I Didn’t See It Before.
The Salve of Glowing Clarity.
I said on Wednesday (a word which begins with W) that West in my compass is Glow. Right now I am using a double compass, so west is actually Glowing Clarity.
This salve heals scabs like they weren’t even there. It softens so tremendously that you don’t even notice the softening because it is so complete, you forget that these things even needed softening.
When you wear this salve, everything glows a little more clearly, because you are glowing clarity.
This salve is the perfect way to feel into your yes and your no, and to feel brave enough to stand up for them too, because why wouldn’t you: the clear path is glowing clearly, and so are you, with clarity.
This salve also has the hidden powers of its neighboring directions: Southwest (Crowned in Sweetness) and Northwest (Bold Presence).
I want to say that a little goes a long way, but I also want to say: slather it on, baby. Soak it in.
Playing live at the meme beach house — the Fake Band of the Week!
This week’s band comes to us by way of a hilarious Adopt-A-Highway sign, and is called The Atheists of Butte County. The funniest part about this is that I’m pretty sure it actually IS just one guy.
And my upcoming Biopic…
Exfoliated: A Whole New Person. 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. Some of us share hard and good, some of us say hi, or maybe we’re feeling quiet. My ritual doesn’t have to be your ritual. Whatever works for you. We’ve been doing this every week for years now and there still isn’t a right way. Feel free to leave pebbles (or petals!), hearts, warmth, sweetness. Those always work.
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!
W
Glow West.
Each morning I make a compass.
If I don’t know which way north is (or even if I do), I set north above me or right in front of me.
I assign a quality to each direction point, and I let them cycle around me, surrounding myself with the qualities and filling my space with them.
Every few months, or when I’m starting a new op, it’s time for a new compass, but for the past couple years, I have consistently put GLOW in the west.
One of the many lovely things about walking around inside of a compass is that street signs and highway signs become actual signs: they’re clues.
Each time a sign says WEST, I understand that to mean GLOW. So then I glow.
Glow west.
So west means west, but west really means glow. Glow, resonate, reverberate, expand, express, shine. Two meanings.
Most of my favorite W-words have two meanings.
There’s Well, like well-being and wellness, and also filling the (metaphorical) wells — well, yeah, all the wells…
And wells, like water, like well-springs, like the fountain.
There is Wind. That could be, depending on how you want to read it, winding up or the winding road. But it could also be wind, like the west wind that whooshes and whisks away, wind like the trade winds, the winds that make adventures easier.
There’s Whip, which is the way you give your jammer a burst of speed and trajectory on the roller derby track, and there is whip, the impossibly sexy smooth move in west coast swing. It takes the lindy swing-out and elegantly removes the bounce, turning it into the most luscious rubber band double rotation of perfection. A dance with someone who has a sweet whip, there is nothing like that feeling in the world.
Whisk is a marvelous word. There is whisking like whisking away, and a whisk like the tool you can use to whip cream, or to make the bubbles in your bubble bath infinitely more bubbly, an excellent trick I learned from Agent Rosie. The German word for whisk is Schneebesen: a snow broom, this baffled me for hours the first time someone asked if I wanted one.
There is Wash, like washing away, and also like in watercolor when you do a wash of color.
Oh, and there is Wax. Like wax and wane, with my friend the moon. Or like the wax from the beeswax candles my uncle Svevo used to make.
And Whiskey like the drink, but also like Tango Foxtrot secret code forever!
The Week of Why
When we got to W in the Alphabet Rallies, I did not expect it to become the Week of Why.
I’d figured Y would be the Week of Y. And therefore also the Week of Why. Silly me. Though actually Y turned out to be the week of Yes, so that worked out spectacularly well.
Well. Anyway.
We asked why. Over and over again. Ten times why. The good kind of why, not the wheel-grinding kind of why.
We were curious and we investigated. With wonder.
During the week of Why, I came up with the Very Partial List Of Things That Are Not My Job, which turned out to be Wisdom.
And we did things widdershins, and played Change Your Place, Change Your Luck.
It was also the week of Wishes.
And words.
Witchy wonderful words, whispered. Wow!
I love words, and I especially love whispered words.
Whispers are my favorite way to listen, and possibly also just the most wonderful word.
Oh, and waltzing. Waltzing words into the light, which is my secret metaphor for publishing.
And waltz like Waltz Brunch, my very favorite dance event in Portland and the only thing I currently miss about Portland, other than my housemate and Back to Eden bakery.
Wish. Upon A Star
Wishing is my favorite way to mix things up.
We hit three hundred weeks of wishes this week, and many of those wishes have changed how I live.
Ws I am letting go of:
When I let go of G, I also wanted to let go of W.
Now it is time to release some more Ws. Here we go:
- Worry
- Work
- Wistfulness
- Wockawocks (secret agent code for annoying problems)
- Wells Unfilled
- Weakness (in the sense of my perception of my sensitivities)
- Weight (as a concept)
- Whines
Whoosh! All of that can be let go and whooshed away, to the magical elevator shaft at the Playground, which still exist even though the Playground is gone.
Ws I am warmly welcoming in:
Mmmm, Welcoming.
- Wings
- Wealth
- Wisdom
- Wonder
- Wander. As in Wanderlust and exploring and All Who [W] Are Not Lost.
- Wells
- Willingness
- Wholeness
- Water
- Waves
- Winning: Won-ness and Oneness.
- Witchiness and being witchy. I recently learned that when I say witch, people do not understand what I mean, and that I need to say healer instead, so: okay.
- Warmth
- When (as in: if not now, when).
Wow. Also wise-cracking, like Barrington.
Wild.
When I was away on retreat at the Vicarage, I was looking for a name. I was playing with a proxy identity, getting to know wild me who wears a leather jacket and sunglasses and doesn’t care what anybody things, and I didn’t know what to call her.
Then they accidentally gave me the wrong room, and in that room, in a corner, high up above the doorway between the bedroom and the entryway, I noticed a sticker. It said EVE WILD.
Eve Wild became the secret agent name for Incoming Me, and we have spent a lot of time together ever since.
I even brought in a version of her to help me with my Rally Project during the week of W, here’s what I have in my notes:
I’m Agent Wild. I’m here to test shades of pink to find out which are the most Unrepentantly Disruptive. I am the Pink Witch! I am the Walrus! I take baths in olive oil.
Rally is fun. I miss Rally.
All the best words are W.
I mean, come on.
Whoa. Wicked. Whirl. Winding. Wabi-sabi!
Ohmygoodness, did you know that WEAR also means “to turn a ship’s stern to windward to alter its course”?! I feel so strongly about this, and also cannot believe I forgot wear like to adorn oneself in garments and costumes (clue: everything is a costume!).
Wear! I delight in dressing up, this is one of my very favorite things.
What else do I know about W?
W is two Vs. V + V. This means that W has all the superpowers of V, doubled. And it also means that W is a diamond, unpacked. W is an open diamond.
W is waves.
W is movement, repeated.
W is Writing, which is also Righting. The word writative means characterized by an inclination to write, and I have that pretty much all the time.
W is the reminder to glow, and keep on glowing ever westward.
May it be so! And come play with me.
This has been a meditation on words that begin with W.
If you want to whisper words or sound effects that start with W, go for it.
You are invited to add more W words, or peek over here for more W words. Like waldgrave, wayzgoose, williwaw, and wyrd (the personification of a fate or destiny).
And, as always, if you want to share in any of the qualities and magical words I named here, help yourself.
They work like the salves in the Friday Chicken: there is enough and there is always more.
Whispering loving spells that begin with W, for myself, and for anyone who wants…