What's in the gallery?
We dissolve stuck and rewrite patterns. We apply radical playfulness to life (when we feel like it!), embarking on internal adventures (credo of Safety First). We have a fake band called Solved By Cake. We build invisible sanctuaries, invent words and worlds, breathe awe and wonder.
We are not impressed by monsters. Except when we are. We explore the connections between internal territories and surrounding environment to learn what marvelously supportive delicious space feels like, and how to take exquisite care of ourselves. We transform things.* We glow wild.**
* For example: Desire, fear, worry, pain-and-trauma, boundaries, that problematic word which rhymes with flaweductivity.
** Fair warning: Self-fluency has been known to lead to extremely subversive behavior, including treasuring yourself unconditionally, unapologetically taking up space, experiencing outrageously improbable levels of self-acceptance, and general rejoicing in aliveness.
What's in the gallery?
We dissolve stuck and rewrite patterns. We apply radical playfulness to life (when we feel like it!), embarking on internal adventures (credo of Safety First). We have a fake band called Solved By Cake. We build invisible sanctuaries, invent words and worlds, breathe awe and wonder.
We are not impressed by monsters. Except when we are. We explore the connections between internal territories and surrounding environment to learn what marvelously supportive delicious space feels like, and how to take exquisite care of ourselves. We transform things.* We glow wild.**
* For example: Desire, fear, worry, pain-and-trauma, boundaries, that problematic word which rhymes with flaweductivity.
** Fair warning: Self-fluency has been known to lead to extremely subversive behavior, including treasuring yourself unconditionally, unapologetically taking up space, experiencing outrageously improbable levels of self-acceptance, and general rejoicing in aliveness.
Chicken 326: it was only a test
It is Friday and we are here.
{a breath for Friday.}
What worked this week?
Going back to the qualities.
When my mother went into hospice, and I was having trouble thinking or making decisions, I turned inward and asked for guidance, and this is what I got:
You can choose story or you can choose steadiness.
I understood this to mean that my reactions are up to me, I can go into the drama of all of it, and spin out into my own complex narrative, or I can be a bell of qualities, breathe qualities, return to qualities.
So I inhaled steadiness and exhaled steadiness until I knew what was best for me, and then I didn’t need to decide anything because I knew.
This week involved many moments in which people wanted to pull me into their drama, or to give me “helpful advice” about how I should be living, and I could feel the desire to go into stories and patterns.
Choosing qualities was the right move, every time.
Sometimes that meant taking a 5MX pause to rest on the floor and feel the qualities around me in all directions of the compass. Sometimes it meant inhaling and exhaling. Sometimes it meant naming the qualities over and over again.
Trust. Release. Love. Receive. Ground. Sovereignty. Glow. Courage.
Steadiness. Steadiness. Steadiness.
Next time I might…
Do that sooner.
And take it to the bath.
Water always helps. For me.
Eight breaths for the hard, challenging and mysterious.
- I miss my mom. It’s weird, because I have never said that sentence in my entire life, and until this last year we didn’t get along. And now she’s gone and I miss her, and I keep picking up postcards to write something to her and I can’t. I mean, I can, it’s just not the same. A breath for this.
- I got vaccinated for the flu, and my body did not like it. I suspect this might be an HSP thing. Three whole days that were mostly spent sitting on the red couch, lethargic, low energy. A breath for the challenges of having a body that is so sensitive to external input. I say thank you for the blessings of that sensitivity, and also sometimes it is so hard. Also more nightmares, though not the awful trauma kind, just the not fun kind. Oh body. A breath for you.
- Whoa! Someone threw some shoes at me, out of nowhere, and I was caught completely off-guard. (Shoe-throwing is when people say hurtful things). These particular shoes managed to hit a bunch of trigger points: Being Misunderstood! Veiled Accusations! Victim Blaming! The implication that Everyone Thinks This About You! All of it wrapped up in that particularly insidious flavor of unsolicited advice, “don’t take this the wrong way, I’m only telling you this for your own good”. A breath for releasing, for being intimately familiar with how abusive communication works, for letting go of everything that is not mine.
- While I feel very strongly that Not Everything Requires a Response (certainly the shoe-thrower doesn’t need a reaction), small-me has a lot of anxiety about being misunderstood. She has a very strong need to Set The Record Straight, and a lot of reminders were needed about how this isn’t where we need to spend our energy. A breath for comfort, may we all have as much of it as we need.
- So very overwhelmed by all the things. A breath for sweetness.
- [Silent retreat on things that are hard]. A breath for trust-more love-more release-more receive-more.
- Still seeing all the ways I relinquish my sovereignty, compromise my desires, neglect to state my preferences, avoid opportunities to treasure myself. For example, a woman at a rumba class accused me of having stolen her seat, and instead of calmly pointing out that the ballroom is full of seats or that in an entire year of dancing there I’d never encountered a culture of saving seats, I immediately rushed off to vacate “her” seat for her, which she then didn’t use for the entire dance because she was dancing. There are so many intriguing things about the mystery of why I do this. May all this unsovereign distorted people-pleasing bullshit reveal the treasure that is here for me. A breath for trust and more trust and even more trust after that.
- 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.
Eight breaths of good, reassuring, delight-filled.
- Everything moves, eases, changes. The lethargy passed and my energy came back just in time for dancing! A breath for trusting the process.
- A couple of years ago this incident with the shoe-thrower would have thrown me into chaos. There would have been so much pain, hurt and anger to work through. I might even have conceded some of her points and agreed to turn down my glow. Not now. I don’t turn down my glow for anyone. Not anymore. I remembered what Bryan said about how what you don’t feed can’t grow. The part about perceiving that I have been deeply misunderstood is between me and me, the rest is between her and her. I got clear: I am not going to change how I act or how I dress based on someone else’s judgment. And really, this is only a test. I’ve made vocal wishes about living how I want, and glowing boldly. Now someone says they think I need to dial it down? That’s my wish being tested, and it’s up to me to choose something new in the video game. See also: the salve of I Do Not Dim My Spark For Anyone. A breath for clear knowing.
- I said this last week, and it is still true: So much sweetness, tenderness, so much wild ferocious intensity, so much aliveness, such a commitment to life. A breath of thank you for the sweet reminders of the truly vital things in life.
- Beautiful connecting. Adventures in sweetness. Also when I was in a mood and got a surprise hug delivery visit. It took all of five seconds to cheer me up, even though I’d been having Quite The Crappy Day. A breath for all the good.
- I ran an experiment this week that had to do with taking exquisite care of myself and pausing to seed intentions, to notice what I need. On the days when I did this, there was so much more ease and spaciousness, so much more getting things done, not to mention so much less staring into space on the couch. A breath for all the ways that I can bring ease and softening into my life, when I remember that this is an option.
- There was a day I was freaking out so hard, and then Richard did some acupressure on me, and suddenly I flashed on the thought, what if everything is okay? And then it was. A breath for everything being okay, and for remembering.
- Sometimes yoga is magic. One one of the hard days this week, two hours on the floor took me from a mess of tight-fear-anxious pain into feeling like a radiant glowing ball of love and wonder. A breath for the magic of sweet, conscious, intentional breathing.
- Thankfulness. Heart full of love. A sweet wedding reception Friday night. Sleepover in the bouncy castle. I’ve had a lot of great nicknames in my day, but “sweet unicorn” is my new favorite. Ran into old friend K, who gave me tea and made things beautiful. Danielle kidnapped me and took me to have oil rubbed all over my body, she is the best. Operation Tranquility Recovery Magic has been set into motion, and I need this so badly. So much sweetness in my life, so much kindness, so much generosity and permission. So many things are beautiful. 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.
Operation Clear Bell is still in effect, I am working on The Sultry Speedy Chicken of Sanguine Secret Ops, and I am trusting the fractal flowers. Wham Boom.
Revisiting some wise important words of truth from past-me.
This post from three years ago called Everything has a counterpart. This was helpful to me this week.
Superpowers…
Powers I had this week…
I had the power of Haha This Is A Test This Is Only A Test (it’s just the emergency sovereignty broadcast systems being tested, all is fine), the power of knowing that what I don’t feed can’t grow, the powers of sexy red velvet curtains.
Superpowers I want.
The superpower of Shoes Miss Me By A Mile (thanks Annabelle) and the power of Radiant Glowing Boundaries.
The Salve of extra sweetness.
This salve softens all the things that need softening.
It shows me that tenderness doesn’t have to be raw and vulnerable, tenderness can be an opening into, a sweet releasing and receiving.
This salve renders so many of the false forms of sweetness useless, all the distortions, all the way I search for comfort and sweetness outside myself. With this salve, I can release the need to add sweetening, because I am connected to my own source of sweetness.
Rumi on this:
Find the sweetness in your own heart, then you may find the sweetness in every heart.
When I rub this into my skin, I begin to remember all the sweetness that is available to me in this moment, and then there is even more.
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 called So Many Sparks. They play sultry lounge music versions of punk rock songs, and it’s actually just one guy.
Attenzione! Attention, AGENTS.
I am still recommending the Emergency Get Calm, Quiet And Steady techniques, since they are keeping things good around here for me.
So I want to seed a reminder that this is a thing, and it helps, a lot. Not just with calming down in the moment but with building the kind of habits that allow you to change your relationship with whatever is scary or uncomfortable.
I hardly ever recommend these because the page is already many years old and needs rewriting. However, copywriting aside, this is still one of the best things I have ever made, by a lot. I have two boxes in my office full of the sweetest thank you notes from people, and so many of them are for this.
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 on silent retreat. 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.
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.
Wish 276: 5MX
Personal ads. They’re … personal! Very.
♡
One question, many forms.
Lately whenever I do stone skipping, I have been asking questions that are really all variations on the same question:
What enhances my ability to experience my own light? And what diminishes that ability?
Sometimes I phrase this question in other ways…
- What are the things that feed me?
- What helps me stay lucid and clear?
- How can I treasure myself?
- What gets me connected to my whole-hearted yes?
- How can I be the clearest bell?
- What can I do to boldly glow where I have not before?
- What needs to be eliminated? And what needs to be illuminated?
The same answer.
It is hilarious (to me!) that I keep asking what is obviously the same question, and I get the exact same answer each time…
What emerges, no matter how I phrase the question, is an identical list of the choices and activities that are good for me, things that fall into the category of DO MORE OF THIS, PLEASE. And then a list of things I would do well to avoid (cough, facebook) if I want to function at my best in this world.
I get clear intel, and then a week later I ask again, and I get the same clear intel, and then I ask again.
Not sure if it’s because I forget, or I need to hear it again, or maybe I think something will change, or maybe this is just part of the process of learning how to take care of myself.
I know what I want.
I know what I want. I know what I need. I know what works.
It’s super clear.
And there is a gap between what I know and what I choose. This is okay. It’s part of the voyage. Like in the line from my favorite sea chantey:
The anchors are weighed / the sails they are set
We are setting sail.
And by anchors I mean presence, and by sails I mean intentions.
Five minutes of X.
Many of the things that are on the list of YES are things I can be doing right now, just not always in large quantities because time does not currently permit.
Actually, time always permits. Or at least in theory. There are previous commitments I’ve made that mean I’m currently making other choices towards other things, and, again, that’s okay too.
What I find interesting is this:
Yeah, okay, I might not have two hours for long, slow, sweet yoga on the floor. For sure I have five minutes though.
Maybe I can’t make a massage happen right now. I could still take five beautiful minutes and rub my feet, or roll things out with the foam roller, or just let my body sink into the floor.
Five minutes are there. Five minutes to do a gazelle thing, five minutes to breathe, five minutes to talk to my heart, five minutes to say thank you.
Five minutes of anything on the list of things that are good for Havi Bell.
What if.
Sam and I have been calling this 5MX. It stands for Five Minutes Of X.
Let X = anything that would be helpful and supportive for me, anything related to how I want to live.
His 5MX sometimes includes things that are not appealing to me. Like pull-ups. My 5MX is often just closing my eyes or staring at the wall.
It helps.
And then I forget again that this is a thing I can do. I find myself feeling frustrated about my desire for the experiences that would be good for me if only I had time.
The truth is, I really do have time for most of them right now if I go with the five minute version. Or even if I can’t have the thing I want, five minutes of something that’s like the thing I want.
While I can’t go to the ocean for five minutes, I can connect to some of the qualities of ocean. And I can look at pictures of the ocean or remember the ocean or watch a surfing video or close my eyes and channel Beach Day me.
I want more 5MX in my life.
Not once or twice a day. All the time.
I want so much 5MX that I can’t forget the reason for the voyage. I want constant reminders of what is important.
What else would I like?
Partners and playmates. People in my life that want to play with this so that at any given moment, I know my friends are also 5MX-ing along with me, even if not at the same time.
Anything else related to this?
I don’t want to think of this as a chore. I want to think of this as a delight.
Like a tryst.
Checking in. How am I doing?
So very tired.
It’s partly the travel, and partly the burnout, and partly having just been through my mother’s funeral. Also today would have been my mother’s 70th birthday. So. And also I got vaccinated for the flu, and apparently HSPs and vaccinations is a complicated combination, because it’s been over 48 hours, and I have barely been able to get off the couch.
What helps with tired? Permission. Rest. Remembering that tired is always legitimate.
What do I really want?
Same as the past few weeks. 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: 5MX is a great idea. And even 2MX. Honestly even thirty seconds is enough to lovingly interrupt an unconscious pattern, and really, that’s what this is about. This is the entire basis of all of your work: the sweet, loving, compassionate interruption of patterns and habits that aren’t working.
Me: You are right, that is the basis of this work.
She: So every time the monsters say that this is taking you away from your Very Important Work and from being of service in the world, let’s remind them that actually this is the work.
Me: This is the work. This is the work. I need to remember that.
She: You know how the monsters basically have two primary doom modes lately? It’s either You’re Wasting Time (Doom!), or This Is The Beginning of the End (Doom!)? Let’s use 5MX to interrupt that.
Clues?
It is the month of trusting the voyage, and it is on the calendar, and here I am, on a voyage. Also, I am getting strong intel that I need to visit the Vicarage soon. So yes. Trust the voyage.
Also I met someone whose nickname is the last name of my favorite cover identity. Clue!
The superpower of trusting the voyage.
Last month on the calendar was the month of receiving, and gracefully receiving gifts. Gracefully receiving my gifts.
Now we’re in the month of Embarking, with the superpower of trusting the voyage.
So here we are. This is me trying to find my way into a life where I am much, much, much more true to my internal knowing than I have ever dared to even try before. It requires new levels of trust.
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 SMOPL IT…
I still haven’t figured out how exactly I want to SMOPL (Something Meaningful On a Personal Level) the grieving process. I’ve gotten some good clues though, and tried some experiments.
I’ve been wearing my mother’s necklaces. My friend Patrick bought me the DVD of The Tango Lesson, so I can watch her favorite movie, and that was super sweet.
I’ve been eating soup, taking things slow, doing things my own way, and this is good.
Attenzione! Attention, AGENTS.
I wish to whisper a whisper about the Monster Manual! It comes paired with the world’s best coloring book, which does so much monster-dissolving magic that even if you wait to try the techniques, you’ll still feel better about everything.
Self-fluency is hard enough, we need ways to to interact with the thoughts-fear-worry-criticism that shuts down creative exploring. And when people get the manual, I am able to me spend more time writing here. So if you don’t need help with monsters, get one for a friend. Or plant a wish that someone gets it for you! And bring people you like to hang out here. The more of us working on our stuff, the better for all of us. ♡
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 325: figs and licorice
It is Friday and we are here.
{a breath for Friday.}
What worked this week?
Lighting sage.
Sometimes you just need to change the feeling (internal/external) quickly and bring in some steadiness.
This is one of those things I have on hand and forget that it helps, and then I remember. This week I remembered.
Permission.
I cried a lot. I hid a lot. This is okay.
Next time I might…
Give myself more time.
Not sure why I thought that the day after flying home from Michigan from my mother’s funeral was a good day to try to get work done.
I mean, how long have I been me that I do not know these basic things about me.
I forget that time is required. So, permission, sweetness, forgiveness, more time.
Eight breaths for the hard, challenging and mysterious.
- The funeral was rough, the burial even more so. A breath for breathing.
- Night terrors, not related to the above. I’ve had a few months without and then it was back. A breath for releasing.
- My body does not like travel or being squished on a plane or losing sleep and not getting yoga. It is not happy with me right now. A breath for love.
- Missing. A breath for comfort.
- Overwhelmed. A breath for sweetness.
- Going through four different rooms of my mother’s stuff filled me with an intense desire to not have any stuff. Everyone I know who has been through this process has said this, not sure if many people act on it. I mean, I remember my mother saying this exact thing after her mother died. But oh dear lord I want to let go of so many things.
- I can see so very clearly what is not working in my life, and all the ways that I relinquish my sovereignty, compromise my desires, neglect to state my preferences, avoid opportunities to treasure myself. A breath for trust and more trust and even more trust after that.
- 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.
Eight breaths of good, reassuring, delight-filled.
- My wonderful uncle Svevo came to visit me. He brought figs, this is a tradition. And I always keep black licorice in the house, just in case I get a surprise visit from him. He and Noah and I had a beautiful brunch together, and what had begun as the saddest day turned into a day with lots of smiles and so much joy. A breath for the treasure of people in my life who love and adore me unconditionally, and for having found them.
- Watching my Guns N Rollers skate with Cherry City. A breath for friends, for lovely distraction when that is the right thing, for warmth and joy.
- So much tenderness, so much wild ferocious intensity, so much aliveness, such a commitment to life. Sometimes also with tears. A breath of thank you for the sweet reminders of the truly vital things in life.
- The beautiful boy, who hates mornings and waking up more than anything, insisted on getting up at 5am after only three hours of sleep in order to drive me to the airport. A breath for so much sweetness.
- So many things worked out with my trip to Michigan for the funeral. So many small and large miracles. The superpower of Extreme Serenity. Lucking into the just-right seatmate. Getting an aisle to myself on an otherwise packed flight. Being able to stay with kind, warm people who gave me lots of space. Connecting with my father’s cousin. Getting to hear Eleanor’s heartbreakingly beautiful story about my mother’s secret goodbye. Sweetness. A breath for all the ways that I am held and cared for, even in the hardest times.
- Being picked up at the airport on my return to Portland, I don’t know that I’ve ever been happier to see someone, so happy to be back home. A breath for that.
- Lucidity. This week held so many tears but at some point I became the clearest bell. It was as if a fog cleared and I hadn’t even known it was there. I am so very clear right now about what I want and need, and what I am willing to do about this. And I am doing things I normally avoid, just getting them done, like a grownup. A breath for clear seeing.
- Thankfulness. Heart full of love. Wearing my mother’s necklace. Wise loving friends. So much sweetness in my life, so much kindness, so much permission. So many things are beautiful. 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.
Operation Clear Bell is in effect, and I am trusting the fractal flowers. Also got a flu shot, set up an appointment I’ve been avoiding, and unpacked like a boss. Wham Boom.
Revisiting some wise important words of truth from past-me.
This post called the treasure box of tiny stones. I needed this so much this week.
Superpowers…
Powers I had this week…
I had the power of Extreme Serenity, and (again) of turning inward for guidance and getting it.
Superpowers I want.
The superpower of Permission Slips Everywhere.
The Salve of Permission Slips everywhere.
This is not externally-granted permission. This is not something that is given to me.
This is something that is grounded in self, in knowing, in remembering.
When I was in Michigan I needed this salve so hard. It’s as if as soon as I’m there I just instantly relinquish my sovereignty in every situation, almost automatically. As if I suddenly forget that I am an adult, that I am allowed to make choices and decisions, express wishes, act on my own behalf, advocate for my needs.
This salve reminds me that I don’t need to ask for permission because it is already mine to begin with. It’s not external to me. It is available to me at all times.
When I rub this into my skin, I begin to remember all the things that are okay. It is okay for me to go to bed at a laughably early hour. It is okay to exit situations and conversations that do not feed me. It is okay to stop what I am doing without knowing what the reason is.
This salve undoes internal distortions and false constraints. It lets you breathe new air, see new openings. This is a deliciously subversive salve, and it smells like wonder. Use in good health.
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 called So Many Sparks. They play sultry lounge music versions of punk rock songs, and it’s actually just one guy.
Attenzione! Attention, AGENTS.
I am still recommending the Emergency Get Calm, Quiet And Steady techniques, since they are keeping things good around here for me.
So I want to seed a reminder that this is a thing, and it helps, a lot. Not just with calming down in the moment but with building the kind of habits that allow you to change your relationship with whatever is scary or uncomfortable.
I hardly ever recommend these because the page is already many years old and needs rewriting. However, copywriting aside, this is still one of the best things I have ever made, by a lot. I have two boxes in my office full of the sweetest thank you notes from people, and so many of them are for this.
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 on silent retreat. 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.
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.
Hey lungs
Hey.
Me: Hey, lungs. Hey.
I love breathing with you. I love breathing with you so damn much. Thank you.
Lungs: Thank you, Honey. We’re in this together. Two way street. Only better.
Me: Hey, lungs. I’m sorry about all the years I was a smoker. I am so sorry. I don’t even know why I did that to you. To us.
My lungs: Aw. No worries, babe. Seriously. We’re good. We’re new again, just like you. Just like each breath. Everything is new again.
Me: Are you sure? Because that sounds kind of crazy.
My sweet beautiful lungs: Listen, kiddo. You were doing the best you could at the time with the tools you had. You had some rough stuff to deal with, and cigarettes were comfort. They were more than comfort, they were a precious pause when you didn’t know how to pause. They were your red lights and your lover and your friend, and all of that is okay. You got what you needed, and you found your way through it, and we are here now, present, new in this moment, alive, loving you.
Me: That is so sweet. Thank you for this sweetness.
My amazing lungs: Thank you for being here, receptive to letting in sweetness.
Me: It’s a pretty big deal, huh. I didn’t think this was something I could do. All these years I thought I was allergic to sweetness. Guess I was wrong.
My strong lungs: We have all the best breaths to take together. Luscious breaths. Long, slow, deep yoga breaths. Bounding gazelle breath. Softening into sleep breaths. Shared almost-kisses of almost-almost with your lover breaths. Sharp intake of intensity breath when your lover kisses the inside of your wrist. All those breaths and many more. As many as we get will be the right number.
Me: How are we so lucky? To have each other, I mean? You and me, me and you. And to think we have spent nearly four decades together and it didn’t occur to me until today to tell you how I feel, or even to notice.
My miracle lungs: This is the exact right moment. Like you say, All Timing Is Right Timing. We needed to process whatever we needed to process in order to arrive at this moment.
Me: I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you….
Receiving and giving, giving and receiving.
Inhaling appreciation, exhaling appreciation.
Inhaling love, exhaling love.
Receiving [qualities], glowing and giving qualities.
Can we just stop and be in awe for a moment about this?
Hello, new breath. Hello. I’m here for you.
How we play here. You are invited.
Safe space online is rare and precious. To make that work, we lovingly commit to two intentional practices: not giving each other advice and not care-taking.
We try to remember that we all have our stuff (pain, fear, doubt, history), and we’re all working on our stuff, each in our own way and our own timing. It’s a process.
Within that, we can play any way we like. You are welcome to share things sparked for you, something you appreciated, ways you want to play, your own thank-yous, your own internal conversations. Or flowers! I love flowers.
Love, as always, to everyone who is a part of this place, including the Beloved Lurkers, quiet passers-by and everyone who reads. Thank you.
Wish 275: SMOPL it.
Personal ads. They’re … personal! Very.
♡
SMOPL.
My brother and I have a thing we call SMOPL.
It stands for Something Meaningful On a Personal Level.
We use this term for a lot of things, but most often it comes up in the context of trying to reconcile our discomfort with religion (ours and in general) with our love of ritual and the desire to have some sort of connection to our complicated tribe.
So we take bits and pieces, and allow a SMOPL to emerge.
Sometimes we opt out of tradition, and make it a SMOPL. Sometimes we opt in, and just switch things up, and then that’s our SMOPL.
What do I want?
To choose towards SMOPL. To live in SMOPL.
To be true to my desire in a much deeper way than before, checking in to make sure I’m choosing something that feeds me, choosing from love and not from perceived obligation.
Like this…
This year when yom kipur came around I really felt the need for comfort, with all the painful things that have been going on. I just didn’t really, really didn’t feel up to to leaving the house, or being around people.
Sam came to keep me company, and we did two hours of sweet slow yoga, in the dark, with just the sound of our breath for company.
We set our intentions and each breath was intention, and everything about it was perfect. I was able to access such a deep peacefulness and knowing, to fill up on the well of me. It was such a clear example of No, Really, This Is Right.
I got all the things I needed and even some of the things I didn’t know that I needed:
Quieting, peace, clarity, sweetness, trust, a renewed sense of faith, deep trust in the my own process as a human being and in the bigger process of this life, a thank you heart of appreciation and gratitude, a re-committing to life and aliveness.
SMOPL is always the right answer for me, sometimes that is hard to remember.
The tango lesson.
I had signed up for Portland Tango Fest this weekend, and then my mother went into the ICU and from there into hospice, and she died Thursday night.
I sat on a couch in the corner while the tango lesson was happening, and couldn’t dance, couldn’t get into it. Tango is not my dance anyway, not yet at least, and it requires an intensity of focus when I had none.
So I sat there and watched people dance. I didn’t watch the way I would watch, as a dancer. I watched the way my mother would watch. I noticed color, texture, interesting faces, little human moments.
I imagined her smiling over things she found beautiful, silly, playful, surprising.
One of the tango instructors was this very small, very charming guy from Buenos Aires, amazing dancer. At one point he said, “Do you know, I always want to be this tall big black guy with an afro and a boom box, like, funky, like uh huh uh huh uh huh uh huh, and it isn’t fair, god made me short and white and like this, so I have to cultivate the attitude of what I want, to feel sexy and move like how I imagine I am, this is tango.”
She would have liked that, I think.
My mother loved watching argentine tango, one of her favorite movies was called The Tango Lesson, and she’d fast forward through the drama to watch the dance scenes, so I feel certain she would have gotten a kick out of being a fly on the wall in that workshop.
And I had suddenly this idea of SMOPLing the entire mourning process by doing things she liked.
What if.
What if that becomes my process of grief.
Maybe instead of [some of the traditional things that do not speak to me], my brother and I could instead choose things she would like and do those.
Like watch tango and eat soup and sleep in. What else did she do?
Watch her happy movies (The Tango Lesson. Strictly Ballroom. 50 First Dates.) Stay in bed until eleven. Enjoy flowers. Be in the garden. People-watch. Make up back-stories about people in advertisements. Read a book last-chapter-first.
Ez: Yeah, and we could watch just the fun scenes in movies.
Me: Or go to something really late, like, show up right before it ends. Or make random changes in our homes.
Ez: Yes. Hahaha. I like this plan.
Me: Or take a hundred books out of the library on one topic.
Ez: Wait, I already do that.
Me: Okay, I can’t think of any other things I’d want to do.
Ez: That’s fine. We can do our own things too. Whatever seems right. Look for clues.
What if indeed.
I wasn’t sure if she would have approved of this or hated it, not that it matters in a way, since this is for me.
However, thanks to all the drugs she was on in her last months to help with the pain, I was able to meet a much more chill version of her, and this experience is softening my thoughts about what she would or would not like.
For example, I had the thought on the plane to Detroit that I should remove my sparkly purple nail polish because mom would think this is disrespectful and inappropriate for a funeral, but actually medicated-mom would say, oooh what a pretty color, so it’s fine.
Similarly, the mother I remember from before probably would have frowned at SMOPLing the mourning process and had much to say about the importance of Doing The Right Thing, but mom on drugs would smile and think this was a really sweet plan. So I’m going with what she would have liked, and not the mother I knew for the previous thirty-seven years.
What else would I like?
Support for this op! Actually, I already have that. Everyone in my life is for this.
Annabelle: Yes, this is great! You should do this.
Briana: This is a brilliant op.
Sam: I like that you’re doing what your mom would have enjoyed.
Anything else related to this?
I’ve also been thinking that my mother was surprisingly sneakily good at doing what she wanted, despite the cultural legacy of Obligation Always. She did find ways to sleep in and eat things she liked and read books she liked, watch the same movie scenes over and over, take art classes, avoid situations with people, and generally do things that were comfortable for her.
She made life fit her weird complicated needs, which is a pretty great superpower.
Says a person with lots of weird complicated needs.
I have weird complicated needs! I want to make choices that fit the energy that supports me, choices that help me be the clearest bell.
So I suspect this desire is behind something I said to a friend of mine yesterday:
This is my last funeral, babe. From now on I’m SMOPLing it.
I don’t know if I have the balls to commit to that. I know what the intention is though:
Choose towards experiences that feel light and clear. Choose away from experiences that feel murky, muddy, tangled up with my stuff and other people’s stuff.
More things that feel real, true, brimming with life and aliveness. More celebrating. More breathing. Really this is about love more trust more release more receive more. This is about radical sovereignty and living by my yes.
Checking in. How am I doing?
I’m okay, actually.
My brother and I were talking about this. About how, in many ways, we feel relief. The hardest part was knowing she was in so much pain and fear, and not wanting to die. Now it’s just peacefulness, which is easier. Sad and complicated, but also less hard.
I feel everything becoming lighter now.
Feelings of peace, relief for the end of anxiety and pain. Whoosh!
What do I really want?
Same as the past few weeks. 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: This is brilliant, babe. This is about finding a way to live that doesn’t feel itchy.
Me: I’m not sure I am following the thread.
She: Congruence. Living harmoniously. Being a clear bell. These are things that require you to say a clear, loving no to everything that feels itchy. SMOPLing is a good way of transforming potentially itchy things into experiences that are supportive of who you are and how you function.
Me: What if I screw up and say a reluctant yes to something I know is actually a no? Like I did this week, over and over again?
She: No biggie. It’s all practice. Internal guidance is like GPS, it will just recalibrate and get you back on track. Nothing is wrong, my love. We’re just learning how to do this. It will take as long as it takes. All we need to do is keep checking in.
Clues?
Hahaha, the month of trusting the voyage, and I am literally on a plane to Detroit for the funeral. It’s on the calendar. Trust. The. Voyage.
And my nail polish color is called homecoming. Hahahaha. Yes, well. The Havi Show is extra funny this week.
The superpower of trusting the voyage.
Last month on the calendar was the month of receiving, and gracefully receiving gifts. Gracefully receiving my gifts.
Now we’ve turned a page and it’s the month of Embarking, with the superpower of trusting the voyage.
So here we are. This is me trying to find my way into a life where I am much, much, much more true to my internal knowing than I have ever dared to even try before. Trust the voyage, kiddo.
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 the doing of not doing…
This turned out to be an absolutely amazing wish, because this week was full (ha, full) of not doing. As I wrote in the Chicken:
Things have been internally productive rather than externally. Internal Productivity means I’m making progress on processing with heart and mind. The external fruits of that will be apparent later. I need to pay attention to where the work is happening instead of thinking that there’s no work happening. I need to stop looking critically at what isn’t happening on my projects and look at what is happening inside of me.
Attenzione! Attention, AGENTS.
I wish to whisper a whisper about the Monster Manual! It comes paired with the world’s best coloring book, which does so much monster-dissolving magic that even if you wait to try the techniques, you’ll still feel better about everything.
Self-fluency is hard enough, we need ways to to interact with the thoughts-fear-worry-criticism that shuts down creative exploring. And when people get the manual, I am able to me spend more time writing here. So if you don’t need help with monsters, get one for a friend. Or plant a wish that someone gets it for you! And bring people you like to hang out here. The more of us working on our stuff, the better for all of us. ♡
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