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.
Ringing.
It looked like a cigar.
Or did it.
It didn’t really look like a cigar, but my mind tried to make it into a cigar, because what else would someone be throwing behind a bush?
The woman holding it was maybe a couple feet away. I just saw the shape of it, and the lit end, glowing red.
My mind flashed: Embers. And: That’s a careless way to dispose of a cigar, good thing it’s raining.
Then the explosion, loud and immediate, and I took off running.
Saturday.
This was Saturday, late morning.
Except in my mind I was back in a different Saturday, a Saturday night more than ten years ago.
Different city, different setting, different circumstances, but the thing that made me run this weekend was the same thing that made me drop to the floor behind the bar then.
Exploding. Noise. That instantaneous thought-feeling of this is the end.
Blocks.
About four blocks away I realized it must have been a firecracker. A big one, by the intensity of the explosion.
My monsters had already stepped into the power vacuum. Look at you, panicked over nothing. Snap out of it. Pull yourself together.
Twelve blocks later, my ears were still ringing like crazy. I couldn’t hear in my right ear. Everything was muffled.
Muffled.
This of course wasn’t anything like the terrorist attack, but I was having a little trouble figuring out the difference between now and then.
What do I remember from then?
Mostly the waiting.
Long minutes after the explosion.
Waiting, grimly, because we didn’t know if there was a second suicide bomber, and if so, was he going to try to take out my bar.
The explosion then was bigger, louder. Though not as close. Across the street. We weren’t even sure which bar or cafe had been demolished, there was too much smoke, and we had locked ourselves inside.
Waiting. Watching the news on television to see if they knew, or if they knew something we didn’t. My boyfriend had just left word that he was looking for parking a block away, this was moments before the explosion. I didn’t know if he was alive, or just stuck behind police barricades.
I tried not to think about it. My job was to keep everyone at the bar and inside the restaurant calm. And drinking.
Perspective.
Terror warps perspective.
I didn’t realize it at the time, the effect it was going to have on me.
The truth is, I don’t remember experiencing it as terror at the time at all.
Maybe that was shock. Or maybe it was lack of shock: too jaded from a decade in Tel Aviv to even show fear. I mean, I’d been a bartender for years. You kind of half-expected it on every shift, and especially in those last months when things had gotten bad.
I’d sit at my local pub, and when the manager left, he’d nod to everyone and say, “Okay guys, just try not to get blown up between now and Thursday when I’m back”.
That was our humor in those days.
So when a suicide bomber took out the place across the street from where I worked, my plan was to get through the night, have a drink, shake it off, go back to the routine. And at some point eventually move to Berlin where people were presumably less likely to try and blow up my place of work.
And that worked.
I don’t remember much more from the night itself.
I was able to contact my closest friend, the one who killed himself later, and he called my family to say I was okay.
I remember Ofer, the cook, nicknamed “The Butcher” — a half-joke about the mismatch between his terrifying appearance and his sweet teddy bear of a personality, he was the one who unlocked the door and went outside to hand out water bottles to people in the street. The rest is vague.
It turned out my boyfriend was indeed behind police barricades, unhurt.
He helped me close up the bar, and then we drove to the other bar. The owner bought us whiskey, and we sat there until very, very late. Morning, really.
The next day I went back to work. I worked there for another six months maybe.
Now.
While me-then was almost alarmingly blasé about this experience (she says, “come on, what other choice did I have?”), current-me is still going through all the fear that didn’t get felt then.
This weekend, when the woman threw the not-a-cigar, it took the better part of ten minutes to even fully comprehend that this wasn’t another suicide bombing.
I mean, clearly this woman was not a suicide bomber.
Conscious-me knew that.
Intent.
This woman may have been bored, or mentally unwell, or any number of things. As my mother used to say in situations like this, “She must have problems.”
She was being wildly irresponsible. And not particularly concerned about safety or hearing damage — a double M-80 is not something to screw around with. She wasn’t being malicious though.
Or, to put it another way, she wasn’t trying to kill civilians in an attempt to make a reasonable political point in a completely unreasonable way. She wasn’t trying to hurt me or the people I love.
And she probably didn’t know that I’d spend the next three days in bed, unable to get anything done. I mean, I suspect she might not care either way. Just that this was not her intent.
Current-me sometimes has trouble differentiating. It’s because of the wormholes.
Coming slowly back to now.
While current-me has a harder time dealing with scary things than me-then seemed to, at least on the surface, current-me is also a lot better at taking care of herself.
She knows about the healing powers of baths and naps, of intentional not-doing, of process and play.
She knows about peacefulness.
So I gave myself permission to be fully derailed.
I hid in bed for a few days. I let that be okay.
I reminded myself of all the ways that Now Is Not Then.
I took eight breaths and used the ringing in my ears as a reminder to be a bell, to reverberate.
First bell.
First bell: the bell of clearing. Everything gets clearer.
Second bell: the bell of joy. I can find the joy sparks here, even the very small ones.
Third bell: the bell of presence. I am here.
Fourth bell: the bell of curiosity. Noticing what is actually happening.
Fifth bell: the bell of steadiness. Anchoring.
Sixth bell: the bell of sweetness. I am safe and loved.
Seventh bell: the bell of anticipation. Finding my way back to wonder.
Eighth bell: the bell of resonance. I am a clear bell.
Come play. Or come hide. Or both.
One thing I have learned from being alive is that we all have our stuff. Everyone has pain, hurt, sadness, longing. This is a safe space to be a human who has stuff.
We don’t need to think in terms of hierarchies of pain, that’s a distortion. The fountain can take everyone’s pain, and the fountain doesn’t care whether or not you think it’s not as big a deal as someone else’s pain. We are all equal at the fountain.
In the meantime, we’re all learning how to get better at taking care of ourselves, to tread gently, to play at the edges, to create safety for ourselves. Not just for our current selves, also for who we were then, and for incoming-selves.
Things I’d like today! Hearts, pebbles, breaths, warmth, appreciation, sweetness. Or ring some bells with me.
We keep this safe space by refraining from advice-giving and care-taking. That being said, you are also welcome to share things that are sparked for you, or to play in your own way.
Thank you, and much love, as always, to everyone who reads.
Wish 289: the treasure in disliking things
Personal ads. They’re … personal! Very.
♡
Ringing.
Right now my ears are ringing, which is not fun.
And I am practicing being a bell and reverberating, which is lovely.
I am ringing in these two different ways — and that has two meanings too!
The thing I am not doing while ringing is writing the weekly wishes for the blog.
Sometimes wish-writing is smoother, and sometimes choppier, and sometimes there is serious resistance. But it’s been a while since the last time I had so much aversion to sitting down and finding out what I want.
So instead of formulating a wish, I’m just going to look at elements, see what’s there.
Where is the ease. What will help me choose ease.
I am letting a lot of things go right now.
And somehow the more I let go, the more I want to let go.
And, also, the more I let go, the more I question everything in my life.
Easing and releasing. Easing into releasing. More ease with releasing. That’s one element of what I am wishing for.
Element. The treasure in disliking things.
Right now I am hating everything so hard that it kind of scares me.
Just a few of the many things I currently dislike:
- The drive-through coffee place near my house, and the way inattentive decaffeinated people make sharp turns in and out of the driveway without looking for pedestrians, which results in me nearly getting killed twice a day.
- The way my favorite dance instructor has become a fitness nut so now instead of focusing on dance subtleties, she’s all about “push yourself more”, something that holds zero interest for me.
- Why would someone whose house is a subdued shade of teal paint their porch bright kelly green? And why does the room where I write face this visual version of fingernails-on-chalkboard? I need a new place to write because this color combination gives me a headache, and while I’m hating things, I also hate being this sensitive to everything. Side note, I recommend the book Too Loud Too Bright Too Fast Too Tight: What To Do If You Are Sensory Defensive In An Overstimulating World .
- How did I end up with an office next door to a frame-making shop? Listening to people hammer all day is a horrible nightmare.
- We rent out the chocolate shop (metaphor) for weddings, and people are supposed to clean up after themselves, they have a checklist. Except instead they leave chocolate cupcake frosting (not a metaphor) on the carpeted stage, and generally trash the place, and my patience level has dropped to negative levels, in both meanings of that.
Where is the treasure in disliking everything?
This happened to me in Berlin, twice, and the treasure there was in exiting a situation that wasn’t good for me.
Element. Ganesh.
Ganesh is the god of removing obstacles, which is a pretty useful superpower.
Except, here’s the thing, sometimes you can’t figure out how it is that there are nothing but obstacles in your way, and in fact seemingly more obstacles than before you asked to have them removed.
Sometimes the obstacles are clues, and sometimes they are on your path to redirect you, get you on a new and better path. Sometimes both.
The point of the obstacles is to make you re-think where you’re currently headed. The path has to be super annoying for you to make the decision to start anew.
Thus the response to an absurd amount of unexpected obstacles is, Ahhhhh, thank you for the redirection!
Right now I suspect there is some serious redirecting going on.
Element. Trust. Or maybe a reconfiguring.
I got PTSD-triggered on Saturday, so I’ve spent most of the last three days in bed, in hiding-and-recovery mode.
There is a voice, probably a monster voice and it wonders, almost too innocently:
“Maybe running a business isn’t a good idea for someone who can get thrown so easily…”
Maybe that isn’t true. Maybe pieces of that are true. Maybe this is related to Shmita, and letting everything go shmita.
Element. Nature.
After I came back from my mother’s funeral, my lover and I took off in a camper with no real plan.
We spent six weeks on the road and off the road. We woke up in some of the most extraordinarily beautiful places I have ever seen.
Okay, once or twice we woke up in a parking lot, but most of the time we were out in just breathtakingly gorgeous surroundings. Desert. Mountains. Expansiveness.
Being back in an urban environment doesn’t feel good right now. And things that used to perk me up (walking in the rose garden) no longer do it for me.
So this is also a wish about being outside, and warm.
Element. Transitions.
After nearly five years of running my amazing center in Portland, I decided on Wednesday that I am letting it go and looking for a tenant. No one is more surprised by this decision than me.
Superpower of ease-filled transitions please.
What do I know about my wish?
I wish to have a peaceful heart in the midst of big changes.
I wish to choose towards things that support me (horizon), and away from things that don’t.
I wish to say thank you, to fill up on praise.
I wish to meet all the present pain, disliking, frustration and so on with acknowledgment, legitimacy and presence.
What do I know about this wish?
There is always treasure.
At Rally (Rally!), we used to skip a stone about this and ask, Where Is The Treasure.
Where is the treasure in this moment, in this experience, in this loss, in this question, in this project, in this life.
And every single time I was amazed by how much wisdom could be found if I only asked.
What do I really want?
And, as always, to trust my instincts more. To trust my yes and trust my no, and act on that trust immediately.
Me: Hey, slightly-wiser me, what do you have for me?
She: You are asking all the right questions, babe! The treasure is in disliking things. You’ve been in Portland for, what, seven years now? And you finally dislike things enough to go? It’s time for beautiful adventures. This is right.
Me: Thank you, that is reassuring. I don’t really like disliking things.
She: Keep following the joy-sparks. And keep paying attention to everything that is obviously not-joy. Those are clues too, thank them too.
Me: Is this why my [favorite thing here] has stopped being fun?
She: Maybe. Isn’t lovely to not feel sad about missing it?
Me: I had not thought of that.
Clues?
Speaking of obstacles, I will call Saturday’s explosion a clue. Thank you, clue.
The superpower of calm steady trust is mine.
The quality for January on the 2015 Fluent Self calendar is ANCHOR.
With the superpower is Calm Steady Trust Is Mine.
Calm steady trust will help me find the treasure in disliking things. And the anchor will help me voyage, it will help me locate my own steadiness as I figure out the new way.
GOOD NEWS!
Do you want your calendar? TODAY is your chance. Order it through the Plum Duff sale, which is almost over! Password: enter-with-roses
Ongoing wishes.
- Everything is easier than I thought, and look, miracles everywhere.
- I have the best time dancing in my ballroom.
- This doesn’t require my input!
- Ha, it’s so perfect that it turned out like this. Past me is a GENIUS
- I have what I need, and I appreciate it. There are resources to do this.
- Trust and steadiness. I can see why this moment is good.
- I am fearless and confident. I do the brave things, I state my preferences clearly, calmly and easily, and it is not even a big deal, yay.
- I am ready to come into my superpowers and receive gifts that are winging their way to me. Superpower of Everything Enhances My Superpowers!
Things I find helpful when it comes to wishes…
More sweet pauses, yes to the red lights and purple pills, say thank you to the broken pots. Costume changes. Stone skipping with incoming me. My body gets the deciding vote. And, as always, saying thank you in advance.
Give it to the compass: Eight directions, eight qualities, eight breaths.
Adventure. Rest. Horizons. Security. Passion. Sweetness. Clarity. Presence.
Progress report on past Very Personal Ads.
So. Last week, aka Someone come up with a card for that please…
Last week I was thinking about the relationship between releasing and grief, and now I am wishing for ease with releasing, and for finding the treasure.
This week I was able to let much more go, and to come to the conclusion that it is time to find a tenant for my space. It’s been a big week, so I’m glad I primed things by thinking about the legitimacy of grief when letting go.
Attenzione! Attention, AGENTS.
We are running a giant sale where all the amazing new stuff is HALF OFF RIGHT NOW! Password: enter-with-roses
This ends tomorrow. Take a look! ♡
Keep me company?
Consider this an open invitation to deposit wishes, gwishes, personal ads. In any size/form you like, there’s no right way. Updates on past experiments are welcome too, as is anything sparked for you.
Commenting culture: This is safe space for creative exploration. We are on permanent 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 338: it anagrams to what?
It is Friday and we are here.
{a breath for Friday.}
What worked this week?
Taking it to the bath.
Even when that meant being late to a dance and missing a class. Better to arrive relaxed and grounded.
Other things that worked: ginger tea, hot water bottle, permission, legitimacy, patience, laughing, hiding.
Next time I might…
Allow more time.
It is well-documented that I overestimate my capacity and energy for doing, while underestimating how long things actually take.
I know this, so I halve my guess of the one, and double what I allow for the other.
Not good enough. I need more recovery time than I think. More doing time than I think.
This week seemed at times like watching a documentary on the theme of how I am terrible with estimating time.
Eight breaths for the hard, challenging and mysterious.
- So completely overwhelmed. Also computer froze again right after I paid all that money to have it fixed. And the thing that seemed like the perfect escape is now turning into yet another complicated expensive mess. A breath for light at the end of tunnels, may it show itself soon. I mean, if that’s even a thing. I go back and forth between “yes, come on, there’s light at the end of the tunnel, just keep going” and “wait a minute haven’t you been saying that for your entire life?”. So how about a breath for spaciousness and ease.
- Letting go of everything and it is right, and it hurts. A breath for releasing.
- Now numbering among the things I am letting go of: the two best things in my life, my home and the Playground. A breath for knowing.
- My body is being very clear that I need to stop and let it really rest. A breath for trying to figure this out.
- Got triggered unexpectedly when I found out that what I thought was planned and what was actually planned were two different things. Not sure what part of my past it launched me into, but for sure I forgot that Now Is Not Then. I found myself feeling agitated, insecure, unsure of everything. A breath for presence, comfort, remembering truth.
- The beautiful boy was away on missions, and my housemate was away on missions, and it turns out that apparently I need A HUNDRED HUGS A DAY, because I am completely useless when no one is around to hug me. This is disconcerting. And also weird, because I don’t even really like being around people. So apparently I need designated trustworthy huggers? On call? I don’t know. Usually I like being alone except this week it was stupid and annoying and I found myself craving affection and reassurance and being comforted. A breath for comfort in all the best forms, may there be more of it and still more.
- Did not have fun at last Friday’s dance. Sometimes I think that I like dancing but not actually going to dances, which is a problem, because I am a dancer and that is where dancing actually happens. A breath for finding my right dance community, my right practice rituals, my confidence, whatever it is I need to find here.
- Inhale, exhale. May all misunderstandings and distortions, internal and external, dissolve in love if not in laughter. Goodbye (and thank you), mysteries and hard moments of this week. May I choose to trust-more love-more release-more receive-more.
Eight breaths of good, reassuring, delight-filled.
- I am letting everything go, and it is good, and it is time, and I can feel the joy sparks, because it turns out that the thing that sparks joy in me is FREEDOM. Freedom and writing. Without overhead. A breath for sweet releasing.
- Speaking of sweetness, a deepening of sweetness with the beautiful boy, more and more of it, filling up on tenderness, brimming with irrepressible joy. What wonderful madness is this? I don’t even know. A breath of appreciation for this very intense new feeling.
- I know what I want, what sparks joy, and knowing this is good. I spent a lot of time at the Playground this week, talking to it, asking what to do. And then on my way out, my eyes locked on a red velvet bag. I opened it and found a stone that said, “Go play!” Thank you, Playground. I love you so much. A breath for signs, and seeing them.
- The beautiful boy: “Good morning sweet thing, how do you feel about going to Puerto Rico?” Me: HOW DO I FEEL ABOUT THIS. WHAT WHAT WHAT WHAT REALLY?!?! I feel over-the-top thrilled and full of joy sparks. Puerto Rico is one of my all-time favorite places. It anagrams to Erotic Pours. Are you kidding me? Can this really happen? How?!?! A breath for all timing is right timing, and joyful running away.
- Two big dance epiphanies that paid off in a big way. Went to Blues Eclectic on Saturday night and had the time of my life. And then had the most fun I’ve ever had at a west coast swing dance, even though my favorite people to dance with (the beautiful boy and my teacher) weren’t there. Mmmmm. So good. And somehow I managed to have good dances with everyone there, which never happens. Someone said: “That was incredible. Dancing with you is worth the price of admission.” And someone else said, “Okay, I had my amazing dance, I can go home now.” A breath for flow, connection, delight, magic, all the things I love about dance.
- I am ready to let go of things I was not ready to let go of before. A breath for deep quiet knowing.
- Getting all the work done. Light, tunnel, etc. Dispatched (or transformed!) a number of iguanas. An iguana is any task I don’t want to deal with, anything I’m dreading or avoiding or dread-avoiding. Cleaned out a closet and two thirds of a room. Dealt with some things I didn’t want to look at. A breath for trust. I can do this.
- Thankfulness. So much is good. Foxtrot. Rumba. Potato chowder. People who care about me. Everything is okay. Nothing is wrong. Now is not then. All Timing Is Right Timing. A full breath of deep appreciation in my thank-you heart.
WHAM BOOM! Operations completed.
So much done! One more ebook edited and sent out, two more to go. Three boxes of clothing to Goodwill. A very complicated Playground op: taken care of! Thank you fractal flowers. More goodies soon, to those waiting patiently for Internalship ebooks, they’re being edited! And also: Wham Boom.
Revisiting some wise important words of truth from past-me.
Taking care of anything that is a tiny sweet thing. This was a good reminder for me.
Superpowers…
Powers I had this week…
I had the power of I Know How To Play. And the power of finding the right clues everywhere and seeing them instead of tripping over them. Also the power of people being unexpectedly supportive.
Superpowers I want.
I want the superpower of Oh That’s Hilarious.
And the superpower of Whoosh It Is Done.
The Salve of Oh That’s Hilarious.
You know how sometimes you go through something challenging (hahaha, understatement!) in life, and then later, years later, it is suddenly funny.
You can regale people with the story of it at a cocktail party, and everyone is practically crying from laughing so hard, and even though sure, yes, it’s kind of awful, it is also so very funny.
When I let this salve soften into my skin, I have that ability now. It’s a combination of humor and perspective.
Suddenly I can see how this is ridiculous, even if I don’t yet know all the things I’m currently hilariously tripping over.
This salve reminds my body to let go and to laugh.
It shows me how future me has already made peace with things current me thinks are possibly disastrous. She says, “Remember how we went on that accidental adventure and it was the worst? Hahahaha! Ohmygod we learned so much from that, and it’s the best story. And that’s also how this other amazing thing happened, so in the end? Totally worth it. Man, though, at the time I did not see how funny this was!”
This salve brings laughter, and it brings hope. It smells a little bit like the forest, and it is bubbly like champagne.
If salve does not appeal, you can have this in tea form, as a bath, cocktail, whatever works for you. Not only is there enough salve, there are also enough ways to receive it.
Playing live at the meme beach house — the Fake Band of the Week!
This week’s band is from Sam, they’re called Fueled By Monsters, their latest album is Vampiric Vapor Strokes. Catch them at the Fillmore next time you’re in San Francisco. And did you know that they’re actually just one guy? Yup. It’s true.
Attenzione! Attention, AGENTS.
GUESS WHAT! The Plum Duff sale is happening right now!
We have new things. We have beautiful, wonderful adventures.
And everything is HALF OFF, so go to the Plum Duff page! Password: enter-with-roses
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, it’s no big deal. And I am blowing kisses to the Beloved Lurkers. I love that you are here too.
Not this and not that.
I’ve been doing a fair amount of Emptying Out lately. Letting things go. Congruencing!
Last week I deleted fifteen blog posts from the drafts folder, because I realized I was never going to do anything with them.
But I kept one. I wrote this post in July, 2010. So, four and a half years ago.
And I think there’s still something to it. I took out a bunch of unnecessary apologizing (hey, at least I’ve learned something over the years), and edited it down a bit, but this is more or less what me-then wanted to say, and me-now thinks she was on to something.
So here you go, a glimpse into what I was thinking about then…
Options.
When we work with the video game technique, what emerges is that there are always options. More than we think we have.
Except we usually don’t see them.
That’s because we’re so used to the familiar ones. The options we usually choose. We see [DO THE USUAL THING!] or [DO THE THING WE DO WHEN WE RESIST THE USUAL THING!], and that’s it.
We don’t see all the doors in between.
Patterns.
So for example…
We think: Okay, we’re either going to grit our teeth and have the awkward horrible confrontation, or leave the situation and never look back. Or both.
We think we’ll probably put up with it until it drives us crazy, or cut all ties and be done. Or both.
We forget there are gaps and spaces, new and unexpected openings, always another way out.
We forget that there’s room.
The space where we have more choices:
There are endless turning points where we can consciously, actively decide to pick none of the above, and choose a new direction.
And specifically, opportunities to choose a middle way, a new way.
No more fight or flight — instead, something that’s not fight, and also not flight.
Not enduring, and also not running away.
Not ignoring, and also not reacting.
Not succumbing, and also not resisting.
Instead: opening to all the possibilities that lie in between those points, as well as all the possibilities beyond them.
Fun paradox!
So we are for the middle ground practice of “not this and not that”.
And we also want to practice exiting the middle, to get to the advanced practice, which is in many ways a return to being beginner. Confusing?
The middle ground we want here combines the qualities of the beginner’s mind (curious, receptive, compassionate), with the advanced practice (knowing we have the power to play with our patterns).
So to be in this beautiful space of middle — this middle ground of revealing previously undiscovered options and choices — requires a mindset that is not of the middle.
What past-me really wanted to say, in her words:
It is hugely important to remember that these spaces of in-between and possibility exist.
These new places are where we can discover wildly unlikely options that took us out of what we usually do, and into uncharted territory of creativity and hilarity and joy.
Consciously choosing not this and not that led to some seriously amazing things.
Why this is useful:
Every single time we interrupt or challenge a pattern, more options become available. They just appear.
And not just for right now. The next time you run into a wall, you’ll already have internalized both the process and the experience of choosing to do something different from what you usually do.
You’ve created space for trying new things, rewriting a patterns, or even just interrupting it for a second. It all counts.
And when one thing is possible, everything is possible.
Sometimes this is kind of terrifying to think about.
Not only is it just easier to go whooshing down the familiar neural pathways, there’s a certain weird comfort in charted territory even when you can’t stand the territory, the devil you know, etc.
We don’t necessarily even want to know about the other options. I mean, possibility can be liberating, and it can also be paralyzing and terrifying.
This is why I talk so much about the importance of safety and sanctuary when we work on our stuff.
Because there’s no point in making room, adding spaciousness and freedom (Very Interior Design!) without containment, without the perception safety.
There’s no point in discovering choices if we don’t feel safe, if we don’t trust our ability to react to those choices.
So … we make space for possibility. But we also carve out safe spaces to curl up and hide in.
Which is also an option that we might not have even known existed, without remembering the principle of not this and not that.
Play with me.
This is a very thinky concept, so I want to just name some of the qualities of Not This And Not That, to get more into the feeling of it:
Trust. Presence. Ease. Play. Sovereignty. Opening. Glowing. Energy.
You are welcome to bring situations from your life (maybe in proxy form!) and brainstorm reactions or next steps that fall into the category of Not This And Not That.
You are welcome to leave hearts, pebbles, smiles, hugs, superpowers.
You are welcome to share anything that was sparked for you.
The only guideline here is that we don’t give each other advice, or analyze each other or go into caretaking mode. Instead we make room for everyone to have their own experience. We all have our stuff, we’re all working on our stuff, it’s a process. We meet ourselves and each other with as much warmth, permission, love, and spaciousness as we can manage.
Hope this was useful, and I’m glad I was able to share something from four and a half years ago. ♡
Wish 288: someone come up with a card for that please
Personal ads. They’re … personal! Very.
♡
I am thinking about releasing and I am thinking about grief.
They go together sometimes.
I am deep in the process of releasing right now, and this is just the beginning.
I am drinking ginger tea and releasing. Rinsing out the mug in the sink and releasing. Curling up with a blanket and a hot water bottle. Releasing.
Here are some of the things I’m releasing:
Clothes, books, ideas, expectations, stories I tell myself, my sense of how long things “should” take, things that are traps, tears.
There is a lot of grief in this releasing.
What do we know about grief?
- Grief is always legitimate.
- I don’t need to know why I’m grieving it now, or even to know what exactly I’m grieving.
- Grieving is about identity. Change means letting things go, and even the most joyful letting go is still a goodbye to some aspect of who you were.
- Our culture does not have mechanisms for really interacting with grief.
- Our culture does not have rituals or containers for acknowledging the very real pain of loss. I’m not just talking about death, the big loss. Also loss of job, dream, relationship, friendship.
- And when there is acknowledgment, it’s someone trying to cheer you up and get you past it, instead of sitting with you and letting you feel what you’re feeling.
- Grief is natural and normal, and it hurts.
- Our lives are filled with busy-ness and streams of incoming information and input. Sometimes it seems like there isn’t even a moment to notice that we are avoiding the grief, never mind to say hello to it and offer it a chair.
What do I know about this.
Sometimes even when the releasing is the best possible releasing, there is pain.
When my beloved mentor broke up with me, I was in shock. It was very sudden, unexpected, public, painful.
Even from inside the deep fog of confusion, inside the slow ache of realizing that there was no way to repair the broken trust between us, I knew that one day I would say thank you for this.
I knew there was treasure in this goodbye, in this releasing, even if I couldn’t see it yet.
It’s been a couple years now, and it doesn’t hurt anywhere near the way it did. The agonizing pain of that day is a simple memory of what was, no longer charged with feeling.
I’ve come to realize that this ending was needed, this releasing was necessary. And since I never would have let go of that connection of my own accord, I needed to be helped out of it.
And: grief is legitimate.
There is no hallmark card for most of the painful things in life.
At least not that I know of.
I definitely didn’t get any cards, and now I kind of want some:
“Hey sorry the person you thought was your biggest supporter turned out to be the opposite of supportive! That sucks! You are AMAZING!”
“Whoa the thing you spent the last ten years working on is not in your life anymore, that has to hurt. I wish I had more than hugs, but here are some hugs! Your dream was special and so are you!”
“Hey, that is so hard that your giant project didn’t work out and you lost everything, just wanted to say that I love you and adore you, and I know you’ll be okay. P.S. You are a great adventuress!”
People tend not to mention the painful things.
They tiptoe around them.
Or they are confused about why you feel sad. Which is weird. Really? Why am I crying right now? I don’t know. Could be anything really. Look at all the things I have lost in the past few years. Look at all the broken pieces.
I’m glad for the releasing, for all the treasure of releasing, and sometimes it still hurts, and the thing that needs to be released is bucketloads of tears.
Or what needs to be released is the idea that I need to be over this.
What is my wish?
To find the joy in releasing. To be peaceful with the presence of grief.
To say thank you with a full heart to everything that is and everything that was.
To give myself endless permission to feel as sad as I happen to feel, for as long as I need to feel it.
To remember that everyone I encounter has also experienced deep losses, that we are all going through this all the time, the loss and the non-acknowledgment.
To do my own acknowledging.
What do I know about this wish?
This afternoon I was at my center, The Playground.
I’ve had this space for nearly five years, can you believe it. And now I am in the process of maybe-probably letting it go. Releasing. And it hurts.
It is right, and it hurts.
I descended to the floor as I have done so many times (thousands!) and closed my eyes and waited. For about ten minutes my thoughts went every which way, and I let them. And then, slowly, my breath became steadier. My thoughts quieted.
And then I heard a sentence, very clearly:
It is safe to love.
It is safe to love.
What I love about this piece of wisdom, from inside me or from the Playground, is how it gets to the heart of grief.
When I’m in the grief, I am also in the fear of future loss, potential loss, what if I feel like this again, what if I lose again.
The reminder here is that nothing is wrong. I made choices from love. I took risks from love, for love. I tried things because of love. And there is more love. It is safe to love. Even if I lost things, people, money, friendships.
I built the Playground from love, with love. It emerged from love, it exists in love. I can let it go with love, from love. I can trust and love again. Love more, trust more.
Everything ends, everything dies, everything reconfigures, and still it is safe to love.
I can’t lose love, because love is inside of me and around me.
Love is not what has been lost. Love is still here.
What do I really want?
To choose from love. To trust love.
To take exquisite care of myself.
To let go of everything that is done, knowing that this is perfect: thank you for being done.
And I want ease-filled solutions, elegant solutions, clear pathways, signs and clues. I want to see with joy-eyes, to feel with my joy-heart.
To say thank you and release, and know that the releasing is treasure.
And, as always, to trust my instincts more. To trust my yes and trust my no, and act on that trust immediately.
Me: Hey, slightly-wiser me, what do you have for me?
She: I know you think this isn’t a super fun wish. It’s an important one. It’s going to help you carry your joy with you.
Me: I bring my own joy party! And sometimes my own grief party, apparently.
She: Remember when you worked in the orchards? How happy the trees were when they were pruned back? That was some joyful releasing.
Me: It’s true, they loved it. I liked giving them that attention, that sweetness. That was the best job I’ve ever had.
She: You know why you don’t think about the trees anymore.
Me: Because of [loss] and [other loss].
She: Yup, and yet remembering your relationship with the trees is important. It will take you back to the joy of climbing, the joy of pruning, the communing in quiet, trusting that it is okay to love. Just because the trees are gone now doesn’t mean their love for you is gone.
Clues?
Love the horizons.
The superpower of calm steady trust is mine.
The quality for January on the 2015 Fluent Self calendar is ANCHOR.
With the superpower is Calm Steady Trust Is Mine.
Calm steady trust is exactly what I need for all this releasing. And actually an anchor is useful too. An anchor doesn’t hold things completely still, it allows them to drift slightly with the water.
That is important.
GOOD NEWS!
Do you want your calendar? You can still order one through the Plum Duff sale, assuming supplies last! Password: enter-with-roses
Ongoing wishes.
- Everything is easier than I thought, and look, miracles everywhere.
- I have the best time dancing in my ballroom.
- This doesn’t require my input!
- Ha, it’s so perfect that it turned out like this. Past me is a GENIUS
- I have what I need, and I appreciate it. There are resources to do this.
- Trust and steadiness. I can see why this moment is good.
- I am fearless and confident. I do the brave things, I state my preferences clearly, calmly and easily, and it is not even a big deal, yay.
- I am ready to come into my superpowers, including the superpowers of knowing that it doesn’t matter what anyone thinks, I Am Okay With Being Seen, receiving gifts that are winging their way to me. See also: The superpower of Everything Enhances My Superpowers. And adds panache.
Things I find helpful when it comes to wishes…
More sweet pauses, yes to the red lights, remember the purple pills, say thank you to the broken pots. Permission. Bright colors. Passion. Costume changes. Stone skipping with incoming me. Dance. Intensity. Writing. Lipstick. My body gets the deciding vote. And, as always, saying thank you in advance.
Give it to the compass: Eight directions, eight qualities, eight breaths.
Trust. Release. Love. Receive. Anchor. Crown. Glow. Boldly.
Progress report on past Very Personal Ads.
So. Last week, aka Let’s pretend this is about soup…
I’ve been doing pretty well with following my desires, and not hiding intel from myself.
On Wednesday I left a dance that wasn’t fun. On Saturday I was brave and tried something new even though it scared me because I heard the yes.
And I’ve been noticing when I act on intel about what I want, and when I try to hide this intel from myself or from people in my life.
Attenzione! Attention, AGENTS.
We are running a giant sale where all the amazing new stuff is HALF OFF RIGHT NOW! Password: enter-with-roses
This was supposed to end tomorrow, except [life stuff] happened and I never got around to emailing the list and telling people about it, which is the nice thing to do. So we’re actually going to extend this. Reprieve!
Good for this next week, assuming supplies last!
♡
Keep me company?
Consider this an open invitation to deposit wishes, gwishes, personal ads. In any size/form you like, there’s no right way. Updates on past experiments are welcome too, as is anything sparked for you.
Commenting culture: This is safe space for creative exploration. We are on permanent 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