Because it’s Friday AGAIN. And because traditions are important. In which I cover the good stuff and the hard stuff in my week, trying for the non-preachy, non-annoying side of self-reflection.

And you get to join in if you feel like it.

Still weirded out that I managed to pull of a non-emergency-breakdown vacation. One that’s actually supposed to happen while it’s happening.

Planned! What’s that about?

Go me, for being an adult. Kind of.

The hard stuff

Making a huge, horrible, stupid mistake that totally didn’t need to be made.

And then the resulting confusion, agony and shame of that.

It was a fairly straightforward administrative mix-up (fall-out from the First Mate switcheroo last month, combined with an oversight on my part).

Except that the consequences were big and our shopping cart charged people money who weren’t expecting to be charged at that time.

Oof.

Everyone was amazingly understanding about the whole thing and my new First Mate was incredibly speedy at getting it all sorted, but I felt absolutely terrible about it.

Being crazy busy.

And tired.

Interrupted sleep stuff.

Combined with the time change thing, which always throws me into kind of a mini-jetlag stupor and just generally gets on my nerves.

Stupid St. Patrick’s Day.

Well, stupid me for trying to start my Non-Emergency Vacation on St. Patrick’s Day.

And for staying at a hotel named for an Irishman.

Between the obnoxious kids, the obnoxious drunks, the obnoxious (and tall!) leprechauns and all the noise, it was a long, annoying night and a tired, cranky, not-loving-vacation me.

My monsters had strong opinions.

Particularly, they were tearing into me about not going to SXSW and all the opportunities I was missing.

And how I’m selfish and irresponsible for neglecting my business just because I’m highly-sensitive and a big baby.

Luckily they tripped up and used the phrase “you’re leaving money on the table”, which is something I would never say, not in a million years. So then I knew for sure that it was my monsters and not me.

And I talked them down. But yeah. They had a lot to say this week.

The good stuff

Not being impressed by shoes.

Some people said some pretty crappy stuff to me this week.

But somehow the shoe-throwing didn’t hurt.

I could see the shoes. See them being thrown. But they weren’t landing.

It was weird and great.

In the Schwung.

Oh yes.

Absolutely massive amounts of Getting Stuff Done.

I went into crazed production mode and wrote two ebooks from start to finish.

And finished my brand new Monster Coloring Book project (details coming soon).

That would normally be about three months of work. So it kind of blew me away.

Thank you, Dance of Shiva. Yet again you deliver the putting-me-in-the-zone goods. Amazing.

Realizing that not having gone to SXSW was really fortunate.

Because all that stuff I got done?

Never would have happened.

And now I’d be in recovery mode instead of on vacation. So yeah, that was a good decision. My monsters are looking bashful now. It’s kind of cute.

Mensch points.

This is a Steve Krug thing. He talks about how people in your business are constantly rating you in a mostly unconscious way, based on their experiences with you.

When you screw up, you lose points. When you do stuff right, you gain.

He’s talking in terms of website design (for example, sending people to a link that doesn’t exist puts you into negative mensch points). But it applies to the entire experience of how someone interacts with what you do.

Anyway. With our big screw-up this week, I was really really glad to have been building up mensch points with my people for such a long time.

Because even though we messed up in this huge way, everyone was so great about it.

Which means (to me) that we’ve been doing most things right. And that means a lot to me.

I got a flower! From a boy!

Okay, so he was about seven. And shy.

And it was a dandelion.

But still. So sweet. Spring! Being accosted by (extremely) young men on the street and given flowers! Totally counts. I haven’t lost it.

Ha. Vacation.

It’s fun.

And … playing live at the meme beach house!

Yes, that’s a Stuism too.

My brother and I have this thing where we come up with ridiculous band names and then say in this really pretentious, knowing tone, “Oh, well, you know, it’s just one guy.”

This week?

Terrible Mustachioed Rhubarbarians.

But it’s really just one guy.

This is actually from when I started going crazy at a workshop (not mine) where people were coming up with the worst book titles in the history of the world, but they didn’t know how supremely awful their ideas were.

And I had to distract myself with Terrible Mustachioed band names to keep from saying something out loud:

• Terrible Mustachioed Frank and the Two Timers
• Terrible Mustachioed Lemon Bark Pie
• Terrible Mustachioed Monkey Slugs
• Terrible Mustachioed Fairy Horned Mustardized Jam
• Terrible Mustachioed Pink The Rebellion
• Terrible Mustachioed Dancing Figurines
• Terrible Mustachioed Turtlenecks
• Terrible Mustachioed Fruitfloops Loops
• Terrible Mustachioed Stranger In A Rocking Chair

Luckily, all of these bands are just one guy.

That’s it for me …

And yes yes yes, of course you can join in my Friday ritual right here in the comments bit if you feel like it.

Yeah? Anything hard and/or good happen in your week?

And, as always, have a glorrrrrrrrrrrrious weekend. And a happy week to come.

On January 12th of 2009, my duck and I decided to go on Email Sabbatical.

The plan? To not read, write, or think about email.

I called it the let’s see what 2009 will be like without email experiment.

A month later, we wrote about it. In a post called The Great Email Sabbatical Experiment.

And we haven’t written about it since. Well, other than the hints I drop all over the website.

So I was all set to do a hey it’s been an entire year update post on the anniversary but then we missed it.

Disclaimer-ey note: I am not trying to get you (or anyone else) to quit email. I honestly do not have an opinion on this.

First things first. Quitting email is hard.

Honestly, I thought the insane emotional addiction aspect would be the rough part.

But even once that passes, there’s still all the other hard.

It took a lot of time, tearing-out-of-hair and trying-of-stuff to come up with the systems and the work-arounds that make it work.

So. What didn’t work and what did. Like a Friday Chicken but for my email sabbatical.

The hard, the challenging, the stuff that didn’t work.

Finding ways to not piss people off is pretty much impossible.

Whenever you establish boundaries, there are always going to be some people don’t like it.

Their stuff comes up and they’re too close to it to see that it’s theirs.

And sometimes they’re really vocal about why they don’t like it (and how much).

This is the hardest when it’s friends and people you really care about. Their stuff triggers your stuff. Your stuff triggers their stuff. Hard.

Training someone to answer my mail was pretty complicated.

I have been fortunate to have excellent help. Both my first First Mate on the pirate ship and the current First Mate give great email.

The thing is, even with you have a someone — and even if your someone is as capable and delightful as my someone — there’s still a pretty intense learning curve.

You need strong, inspired, flexible, agile systems. And your someone needs enough personality and experience to be able to ditch the systems and respond from the heart when that’s what it takes.

Getting people to stop writing? Or expecting a personal response? Even complicated-er.

It’s not exactly a secret that I don’t do email.

It’s right there on my ironically named contact page. And in the FAQ and on Twitter.

Which has definitely slowed down the hundreds and hundreds of daily messages to something a lot less overwhelming and terrifying. But yeah. You exist. People have stuff to say to you. They will write.

It takes time to get everyone used to the idea that this is how things are.

Okay. There’s really no such thing as no email.

Because even when you don’t have access to an inbox or a program, you still get inundated with messages.

Between Facebook, Twitter DMs, LinkedIn stuff and everything else, there’s still a steady flow avalanche of asks, concerns and general wanting-Havi-time.

I love hanging out on Twitter (it’s my favorite bar). It’s just that I go there to goof off, and when we first announced the email sabbatical, Twitter became a customer service center and it sucked all the fun out of my life.

And sometimes it seems like its easier to just respond than to try to find a nice way to say “sorry I don’t do even non-email email, please send this to the support staff”.

And oy-va-voy to you if you do respond because then it’s all over.

So you need to build some serious systems.

And each time you tweak a system, people will find another way to sneak around it.

Plus, there will always be some things that your First Mate doesn’t know how to deal with. And those pile up.

And pretty soon, you have a full inbox. It’s just not your inbox. But you still have it.

The long, hard process of trial-and-error.

The short version:

Having good systems is a lifesaver. But creating good systems kind of hurts my brain.

Big learning curve.

It’s not cheap. It’s very not cheap.

Still worth it, of course.

Because the way I see it? It’s still significantly less expensive than the amount of therapy I’d need (and all that time lost to emotional breakdowns) when my entire day is spent dealing with putting out fires.

Not to mention all the internal work and blah blah processing process-ey process that needs to happen when people fling shoes at me all day.

But yes, big crazy investment. Especially at first.

Not IM-ing with Nathan.

Hey, Nathan! I miss you!

So. That’s a hell of a lot of hard.

And I’m going to save what did work for next week.

But I will tell you this much:

All that hard is still nothing compared to my life pre-email-sabbatical.

A year ago I kind of imagined that it would be really fun to go back to email at the end of my sabbatical.

That I would have worked through this stuff — and with my new, healthier relationship with the guilt and the shoulds, it would all be different.

What actually happened is the thought of going back to email makes me want to gouge my eyes out.

So sabbatical is now officially retirement.

And this whole being more conscious about respecting my capacity thing is no longer in “hey, what an interesting experiment” mode.

Comment zen for today.

I know this is a sticky topic, with a lot of built-in guilt and uncomfortableness.

And I hope it’s clear that my process is not in any way meant to be a “this is how you should do things”.

Here’s what I’d love:

• your thoughts on process, systems, capacity, interacting with making changes.
• other things that are rough about transitioning out of email (that I didn’t think of or forgot to mention).
• support and acknowledgment for doing something challenging and hard.

Here’s what I’d rather not have:

• Explanations of why email actually is really great or why it’s necessary. I’m not anti-email. I’m not anti-you-doing-email. I’m just anti-situations-in-which-Havi-has-to-do-email.
• Shoulds about how I really ought to have handled things differently.

Thanks, guys. Jessica Rabbit kisses to the commenter mice and all my Beloved Lurkers.

A somewhat goofy mini-collection of stuff I’ve been reading, stuff I’ve been thinking about and oh, some completely random crap.

Actually, I’m under the strict compulsion to write ten pages about anything on my mind. So this is me. Practicing brevity.

This is extremely exciting to announce:

I’m on my Extremely Intentional For Once Not An Emergency Having A Breakdown Vacation.

Starting oh, right about now. Well, in a couple of hours. It’s lovely. Thank you.

So I thought for this week’s Item!-izing, we’d look at some useful posts where people use my Metaphor Mouse magic to work on destuckifying things.

Metaphor Mouse power ACTIVATE!

Or something.

Item! Post No. 57 in a sometimes weekly series that has probably outworn its welcome but I really like saying Item!

Item! Metaphor Mouse turns to-dos into Missions!

Our brilliant Lucy has found a way to get stuff done by becoming a grand adventurer.

It’s especially inspiring because this one small change-of-word has allowed her to, as she put it, cast herself as the hero of her own story.

This is a sweet, thoughtful post that manages, between the lines, to say a lot of useful things about mindfulness, self-care and having a non-cheesy conscious relationship with yourself.

“I don’t get along with to-do lists, so instead of to-do lists, I’m giving myself missions.

To give you an idea of how thrilling the missions are, Mission One was to get dressed, eat breakfast, and decide what Mission Two would be.

They’re not designed to be big, overwhelming missions. They’re designed to be little, doable missions.

I’m on Mission Six now, and this part of the mission says “eat lunch and write a blog post”. I’m allowing myself an hour to write the blog post, and then I’m going to put it up, even if it’s crap.”

I love this!

Lucy is @lucyviret on Twitter.

Item! Metaphor Mouse turns writing into baking!

Tara uses my Metaphor Mouse formula to take on the dreaded Writing of Sales Pages.

And transforms the stuck into something she loves.

This post made me want to dance around the kitchen!

“What happens when there aren’t any expectations of what I *should* be doing? What does that look like?

That feels like I’m dancing around in my kitchen, as an adult (ie, not a kid doing homework), putting my favorite ingredients together, confident in my skill.

*bing*

When sales page = homework:
I feel:
like a kid
worried of getting in trouble
trying to please…the big kids? the experts?

When sales page = my baking:
I feel:
like an adult
responsible to myself
confident
free
I want to share all the tasty goodness!”

Nice!

She’s @blondechicken on Twitter.

Item! Metaphor Mouse turns “coaching” into something way better.

Emily, who clearly has some of the same issues with the word “coaching” as I do, despite um, being one but calling it something else.

She wrote a lovely — and very funny — post called Find your inner what? Who wants to remind themselves of a smelly gym?

Notice how she uses both the epiphany-generating magic of Shiva Nata, the power of journaling and the metaphor technique all together.

And notice how she’s able to completely detach from the “coach as sweaty guy with whistle” programming and to substitute something smart and magical instead.

“The inner curator knows about all my various collections: my thoughts, my ambitions, my secret dreams, my feelings.

And more than this, she understands the environment. If she notices some dry rot creeping into the textiles, she knows she needs to adjust the controls.

She can guide me to the parts of myself I need to be focusing on, and when I see a collection that I want to delve into in a deeper way, she can take me to the collections that are not on public display.

She also knows what might be missing from the collection…those things we should work to acquire to make our collection more complete. She knows our strengths and our weaknesses.”

Oh, and then read her next post to see how having that Inner Curator frees up her creativity all week. Wow.

She’s @emilyroots on Twitter.

Item! Comments! Here’s what I want this time:

• Things you’re thinking about.
• Things you think you’d like to metaphor-ize but haven’t gotten around to playing with yet.

That is all.

Happy reading.

And happy Blustery Windsday. But a balmy one for Claire!

Background: the metaphor technique is something I’ve adapted from Suzette Haden Elgin’s teachings. It’s a terrific tool for destuckifying.

More recently we turned my horrid Tickler file into an Iguana Watcher’s Guide And we turned “doing taxes” into a Secret Money Cave where I visit my treasures, take notes in my Pirate Log and make a Tribute to the lands that allow me access to their fair harbours.

Please note the gorgeous new Metaphor Mouse graphic.

Metaphor Mouse power ACTIVATE! Now 97% more awesome.

Blah blah editing. Unpacking (metaphor!) the metaphor.

The situation:

I’m currently working on several very fun secret projects.

And three of them are at the super boring (for me) editing stage.

But not yet at the sub-stage where I can outsource the editing, because we’re still at the part where it’s about content. And it needs my brain.

Except that my brain is not so into it, because my brain is high on Shivanautical epiphanies and being in the zooooom of the creative process. Zoom!

So something needed to shift but I hadn’t really done anything with this. Until I caught myself using the word DRUDGERY while on the phone with Pam.

Drudgery? No wonder I don’t want to spend time on it.

This looks like a job for … Metaphor Mouse!

* Again, this is is just me yelling I AM METAPHOR MOUSE to the song I am Iron Man. Obviously.

Unpacking my CURRENT relationship with this. (EDITING = ?)

What are the qualities, aspects and attributes of the thing that isn’t working (including what *is* working — if anything)?

[+ necessary]
[+ vital]
[+ valuable]
[+ DRUDGERY!]
[+ specialized -- not everyone can do it at this phase]
[+ but not special -- doesn't use my genius, other than indirectly]
[+ boring]
[+ takes time away from creative fun]
[+ extremely un-sparkly]
[+ where is the sparkle?!]
[+ not graceful]
[+ avoidance]

Reminds me of?

It’s some sort of physical task that requires effort, can sometimes be engaging but isn’t that exciting.

Painting? No. Spackling.

Way more fun to say than it is to do.

Is there a metaphor here?

Not sure yet. We’ll go with spackling for now. At least I get to say spackling. Spackling!

Schpachtel! Or Spachtel, if you prefer to Germanize the spelling.

Yes, I know I’m distracting you to avoid being Metaphor Mouse. Must. Activate. Superpowers.

Learning more about my IDEAL metaphor (X = ?)

What sort of qualities, aspects and feelings does the thing I want contain?

[+ necessary]
[+ vital]
[+ valuable]
[+ special]
[+ sparkly!]
[+ movement]
[+ flourishes]
[+ attention to detail]
[+ engages my attention]
[+ fun]
[+ energizing]
[+ excitement]
[+ anticipation about the finished product/end result]

Reminds me of?

It seems like … what I want to be doing is a lot like playing with something you’ve almost mastered rather than working on mastering it (practicing scales isn’t fun but doing extra-flourishes once you’ve learned something is).

No, that’s not quite right.

It’s like getting ready for a party. It’s decorating for the Sparkly Dance Party. For a surprise party!

So you’re working on something. And setting it up. And putting finishing touches on it.

But it’s not boring, because there’s music and snacks and energy and excitement, and you’re getting the thing ready for a surprise that will make people happy.

HAPPY!

What do you think, Metaphor Mouse? Are we at metaphor?

Indeed.

We have officially reached Metaphor!

Are we comfortable with this one?

Or do we need an intermediary metaphor to be a bridge (ding! metaphor!) to help you get from where there to here?

I think it’s good.

Streamers! Magic markers! Balloons! Surprises! Icing! Permission to be silly and messy and see what happens!

Yes.

What needs to happen next?

Okay. If “editing” is now DECORATING FOR THE SURPRISE SPARKLY DANCE PARTY … what needs to happen?

And how do we make it more fun?

We’ll need:

• a list of what needs decorating when
• a designated space/time/container for decorating
• engage my Group Leaders at the Kitchen Table for support and cheering
• to use the Iguana Chicken board at the Table
• an editing costume a decorating costume (an apron?)
• a Sparkly Dance Party decorating soundtrack (and some Dance of Shiva, of course)
• to make a distinction between products (crap, I need a metaphor for products!) that need decorating and HATS that need decorating.*

* A HAT is what I call a “sales page” because sales pages make me throw up. It stands for Havi’s Announcing a Thing, but it actually doubles as a pretty good metaphor too.

Reporting back:

Okay. I only just came up with this one.

But I can already tell that I feel considerably less inclined to go into avoidance mode when I think about editing going into decorating mode.

And I have an experiment planned: to sit in a cafe and do 45 minutes of decorating, just to see how it feels and what it needs.

Excellent.

Would you like to play? Comment zen for today.

You are more than welcome to do your own Metaphor Mouse-ing on something you’re working on.

Or to celebrate with me and/or decorate sparkly hats.

As always: we let people have their own experience, and we don’t give advice (unless someone specifically asks for it).

Decorating! Hats! Mice! Come play.

Personal ads! They’re … personal! Very.

So my itty bitty personal ads made me realize that it’s time to make a regular practice of trying to feel okay asking for stuff.

And now it’s my weekly ritual. Yay, ritual!

Let’s do this thing.

Thing 1: a successful Non-Emergency Vacation.

Here’s what I want:

I’ve scheduled an actual Planned Vacation. As opposed to my standard, traditional have a nervous breakdown vacation. I know. Shocking.

This is what I’ll be doing this week instead of being in Austin for SXSW. Yes, it’s my own personal JWNS (Just West No South).

What I want is this:

Relaxation.

Clarity.

Time.

Rest.

Surprises.

And of course I want my business pirate ship to sail smooth seas while I’m away from the wheel.

Ways this could work:

I can keep having regular Drunk Pirate Council (that’s what we call “meetings”) while away.

I can come up with some sort of solution to keep the blog feeling loved (see next VPA).

And it could just work.

My commitment.

To breathe.

To trust.

To take notes.

To eat nachos and laugh hysterically.

Thing 2: posties

Here’s what I want:

Since I’ll be on Intentional Non-Emotional-Collapse Vacation, I won’t be writing a lot of blog posts.

But I don’t like to abandon the blog. And I really am not into guest posts. Hmm. Maybe there’s some sort of compromise there.

Like I could take a shorter break and then catch up on some Ask Havi posts that have been waiting for attention.

Or do a collection of Metaphor Mouse posts.

Or?

Ways this could work:

Not sure yet.

My commitment.

To be open to creative solutions that might surprise me.

To be playful.

To talk to my business and find out what it thinks.

Thing 3: Insights.

Here’s what I want:

I’m in the middle of putting together a bunch of new products and programs for a launch brunch for the new Playground studio.

And while I’m off on Non-Emergency Vacation all of this will be waiting for me.

So what I want is to have insights and understandings about the various next steps while I’m busy not working on this project.

Here’s how I want this to work:

Various Shivanautical epiphanies, small and large.

The genius effects of not doing.

Stuff can come up in dreams. It can come up in conversations, at the Twitter bar or in whatever form is right for it.

The trees can whisper secrets to me if they want to. I don’t mind.

My commitment.

To do Shiva Nata every day — even if it’s just five minutes.

To walk and walk and walk.

To ask questions. To go to bed early. To write. To be curious.

And to give myself permission to just have fun, assuming that whatever insights need to come are already winging their way to me.

Progress report on past Very Personal Ads.

Just to update you on what’s happened since last time.

Well, last week I didn’t so much ask for anything as write a love letter to my business on the occasion of its fifth (or fourth) birthday.

And I have to say that, while I wasn’t expecting anything to change based on that, I have had the sense this week that my business and I have gotten closer.

I realize that sounds kind of screwed up. But there you have it. Closer.

It’s lovely, really.

Comments. Since I’m already asking …

I am adding to my practice of asking for stuff by being more specific about what I would like to receive in the comments.

Here’s what I want (just leave them in the comments):

• Your own personal ads, small or large. Things you’ve asked for. Or are asking for. Or would like to ask for. Or updates on last time!

What I would rather not have:

• Reality theories.
• Shoulds. As in, “You should be doing it like this” or “That’s not the right way to ask for things — instead it should be like x, y and z”
• To be judged or psychoanalyzed.
• Advices.

My commitment.

I am committing to getting better at asking for things even when asking feels weird.

Thanks for doing this with me!

Because it’s Friday AGAIN. And because traditions are important. In which I cover the good stuff and the hard stuff in my week, trying for the non-preachy, non-annoying side of self-reflection.

And you get to join in if you feel like it.

Man.

I don’t even know what to say about this week.

Other than that it was pretty crappy, with some surprisingly good bits thrown in.

But that the good bits showed up at all the right times.

And that is actually pretty great in and of itself. Shall we chicken?

*waves to the Chickeneers of the High Seas*

The hard stuff

Birthday weekend hangover.

Not literally or anything.

But maybe energetically.

Down in the dumps. Dehydrated. Headachey. Miserable. Ugh.

Lost track of the good.

Had a couple days of feeling really disconnected.

And then I couldn’t remember why I do what I do.

And it was not fun. But then I remembered. Whew.

Stickiness.

Processing discomfort. And more shoes.

Blah blah. Growth period. Blah. Ick. Stoopid. Tired of it.

Awful treatment at fancy spa place.

Ugh. Worst birthday present to myself ever.

Did I mention the part about everything getting on my nerves or is that already obvious?

Grrr.

Yeah.

Luckily, there was also good stuff.

The good stuff

My people.

You guys and my clients and everyone making things better.

Toozday.

Pulled out of my funk (with the assistance of my gentleman friend who took me and my duck out for a breakfast-and-work date) and actually got stuff done.

Had my first genius productive day in a while and it was lovely.

Oh yes.

yoga.

Yet again, my salvation in difficult times.

My gentleman friend pulled out the non-sucky yoga package every single evening after work. And we made creaky sounds (I am, after all, an old Turkish lady) and it was kind of depressing to see how little my body wanted to move, given that I am also a yoga teacher.

But it just made everything better.

A lot better.

Kirtan!

So much happy.

Sean Johnson and the Wild Lotus Band was in town from New Orleans. I was pretty excited to see them again.

And it was exactly what was needed. Mad dancing ensued. Selma loved it.

Shivanautical epiphanies!

Much rocking out to Dance of Shiva and having weird, crazy, wonderful understandings.

Whoooosh!

Big progress on my thing.

Thanks to some emergency Non-Drunk Drunk Pirate Councils with my gentleman friend (more like Morning Bagel Council — aaarrrr!), stuff is moving.

Movement! Big!

Hooray!

Thank you!

Seriously, all the cards and presents-for-Selma that arrived this week were just charming.

Thanks Janet and Meghan and Megan and Steve and Beth and Michelle and Ingrid (mwah!) and Cairene and my uncle Svevo and everyone else that I’m forgetting at the moment in my current state of being overwhelmed-by-sweetness.

You are all marvelous!

Also my gentleman friend surprised me with a vintage 40s vanity table (remember?!) and it’s gorgeous. And now I can sit on an enormous pink mushroom stool brush my hair in style.

And … playing live at the meme beach house!

Yes, that’s a Stuism too.

My brother and I have this thing where we come up with ridiculous band names and then say in this really pretentious, knowing tone, “Oh, well, you know, it’s just one guy.”

This week?

Dough Conditioner Conspiracy

Yeah. It’s just one guy.

Second runner up: Hollow Bagel Politicians (their latest album is RUBBISH!)

That’s it for me …

And yes yes yes, of course you can join in my Friday ritual right here in the comments bit if you feel like it.

Yeah? Anything hard and/or good happen in your week?

And, as always, have a glorrrrrrrrrrrrious weekend. And a happy week to come.

Background: the metaphor technique is something I’ve adapted from Suzette Haden Elgin’s teachings. It’s a terrific tool for destuckifying.

More recently we turned my horrid Tickler file into an Iguana Watcher’s Guide. And then we turned “doing taxes” into a Secret Money Cave where I visit my treasures and make a Tribute to the lands that allow me access to their fair harbours.

I don’t want to fire anyone! Unpacking (metaphor!) the metaphor.

The situation was thus:

I’d had a bunch of Shivanautical epiphanies around the structure of my business. That’s kind of the problem with Dance of Shiva — it gives you all this incredibly useful information that’s really hard to ignore.

But I wanted to ignore it.

Because my neurally-connected business savant brain was telling me — very clearly — that I needed a new First Mate on my pirate ship.

I needed someone local who would be at Drunk Pirate Council. Someone who would work exclusively for The Fluent Self and represent the business at all times. Someone who could be online all the time.

Which meant that I couldn’t keep working with my lovely very first First Mate Marissa.

So I felt sad. And anxious. And scared.

Worse: how would I tell her?

What if she thought I was, oh god, firing her? I can’t fire Marissa! That’s not what’s happening! This is stupid and horrible!

Luckily, it wasn’t too late to call on … Metaphor Mouse!

* Again, this is is just me yelling I AM METAPHOR MOUSE to the song I am Iron Man. Obviously.

Unpacking my CURRENT relationship with this. (FIRING = ?)

What are the qualities, aspects and attributes of the thing that isn’t working (including what *is* working — if anything)?

[+ squad]
[+ mean]
[+ responsibility]
[+ GUILT]
[+ anxiety]
[+ blame
[+ causing pain]
[+ firing a gun?! worst metaphor ever!]
[+ stuck]
[+ discomfort]
[+ it's the right thing to do]
[+ doing what's best for the business]
[+ sovereignty]
[+ pruning is good for the roses]
[+ firing squad squad squad squad squad squad squad]
[+ ugh]

Reminds me of?

Oh. It’s like … being next door to the room where someone is being executed by lethal injection and feeling soooooooo guilty.

Guilt!

That’s not where I want to be. Where I want to be has to include things that are mutually beneficial. It has to include gratitude for what has been true so far.

So. What happens when I walk out of the lethal injection building?

Where do I go?

I step out the door and walk down a gravel path. I’m at a garden now. Color. Light. Everything is beautiful.

And then there is a path leading out of the garden. Which forks into two paths.

Of course.

When we’re out here, we just branch off and separate. I have the way that is my way, and Marissa has her Marissa way and they are both good.

And where they meet — at the fork in the road where all the flowers are — that’s where we have a picnic.

A Goodbye Picnic where there is space and time to say thank you and be appreciative and give flowers and hug and be happy. And eat pie with our forks!

Learning more about my IDEAL metaphor (X = ?)

What sort of qualities, aspects and feelings does the thing I want contain?

[+ sovereignty]
[+ trust]
[+ calm]
[+ simple]
[+ mutual benefit]
[+ I am not responsible for anyone else's life]
[+ equality]
[+ gratitude]
[+ respect]
[+ ritual]
[+ amicable]
[+ ease]
[+ snacks!]

Does a Gratitude Picnic work with that? Yep. It’s a picnic.

Do we have Lift-off Metaphor?

Whee!

Are we comfortable with this metaphor?

Or do we need an intermediary metaphor to be a bridge (ding! metaphor!) to help you get from where there to here?

No. I’m good.

You’ll never guess what happened next.

I was overjoyed to have my metaphor and my less-creepy plus considerably healthier understanding of what needed to happen.

But I was still feeling a little anxious about how to be really clear that this was a loving decision happening in loving circumstances.

So I went to call her and then I saw in my super secret email account that only she and my gentleman friend have access to — it gets maybe three emails a month — there was a message from Marissa.

A message from her explaining that the time had come for her to hand over the role of First Mate to the next deserving person.

And I said Gratitude Picnic? And she said Yay! And all was good in the world.

Timing. Awesome.

Reporting back:

Everything went smooth as butter.

Except that then we both got super busy with our new things and forgot to have our Gratitude Picnic.

So I’m calling one right now!

Here’s some of what I appreciate Marissa for:

• For being silly with me
• For making every day Talk Like A Pirate Day
• For being on my side.
• For dealing with all sorts of crap (and shoes) and things I just couldn’t handle
• For allowing me to go on Email Sabbatical
• For making up ridiculous words
• For being the behind-the-scenes help at the Kitchen Table
• For making me laugh
• For caring about what I do
• For being a Shivanaut
• For being a Fan of Selma
• For being her fabulous self
• For making tough decisions
• For dedication and fun — at the same time!
• For sweetly making things easier on my new First Mate with learning the ropes
• For her thoughtfulness
• For her kindheartedness
• For putting up with my stuff

This is the start of a Gratitude Picnic!

Thank you thank you thank you.

Would you like to play? Comment zen for today.

You are more than welcome to do cartwheels with me here at the Gratitude Picnic.

Or to do your own Metaphor Mouse-ing on something you’re working on.

Or to be silly with us and eat pie.

And, as always: we let people have their own experience, and we don’t give advice.

Picnic! Come play.

Just seems like a thanking sort of day.

Not a 77 Things That Don’t Completely Suck sort of day.

Just a thanking day.

Thank you to Mr. Pants for saying everything that’s in my head.

But that I don’t have the balls to say.

Also for coming up with the word blauthenticity. And for going by the name Sparky Firepants. Because he can.

And for titling a blog post this post has no SEO blah.

Small business, blah blah.
Design, blah. Blah blah. Design good. blah.
Logos and branding blah. Do this. Blah blah. Think about your people… blah.
SXSW. Blahgity blah blah. Not going…because x, y, z, blah.
Who’s doing what blah. Products. blah. Teleclass, blah.
Think different, blah. blauthenticity.

I adore you, Mr. Pants. And I haven’t had a beer with you in at least a couple of months, so head on over to my part of town, please.

Thank you Patty for being inspirational, fabulous and wearing pajamas.

Three whole days at a business conference in her pajamas.

“Who is this inappropriately dressed intruder who dares sully our convention?”

I have met Patty and yes, she is always wearing pajamas and yes, she is that cool but still. A speakers conference.

Let us salute Patty.

Thank you xkcd for making me laugh — out loud — on the crappiest of crappy days.

Seriously. This hit me right in the funny bone. On a day when nothing was even slightly funny.

Thank you Sarah for introducing me to disapproving rabbits.

They’re rabbits. Who disapprove.

And then when people are all mean and shoe-throw-ey and disapproving? You pretend they’re rabbits, and it makes everything that much more bearable.

EDIT: I meant this Sarah. Yay, Sarah!

Thank you to my ex-husband for divorcing me eight years ago this week.

My life is ridiculously better because of that. I hope yours is too.

Thank you.

Thank you, Wednesday for not being Monday anymore. Happy Wednesday.

Jessica-Rabbit-kisses to the commenter mice and the Beloved Lurkers and you.

Note: it is almost impossible to get on the Ask Havi list. This person got in by a. being one of my clients or students, b. flattering the hell out of my duck, and c. making life easy on me by being clear about what the question was and what details I could use.

So I taught this class last week about what to do when shoes are being thrown (when people say hurtful things).

It was a great class. And since there were way more questions than we ever could have gotten to, I want to touch on one that was asked by several people:

“My big shoe-related stuckness is being so afraid of the potential pain of them that it’s very, very hard to move forward on certain necessary projects … which is causing different kinds of stress & strain.

“What can I do when I feel stuck and freaked out in anticipation of shoes — of entering a shoe-heavy space?”

Let’s see if we can help.

Can we just start with how much it sucks to be in a situation where we know there are going to be shoes?

Ugh. Horrible.

It’s hard enough dealing with unexpected shoes, but anticipation and paralyzing fear is just not fun. I’m sorry.

I do have a few suggestions that — depending on your very specific situation — could possibly help come up with plans to deal with some of that fear.

Okay. Creating safety.

Because that’s the most important thing here.

There are all sorts of ways we can try and do this, but this has to be the focus.

Obviously there are always going to be unknown quantities. Things you can’t possibly be prepared for.

Not to mention the known quantities that you can’t do much about — like your hypercritical boss or your snippy in-laws.

While you won’t always be able to ensure a shoe-free environment, there are still things you can do to create a greater sense of safety for yourself.

Examples! Looking at a couple of different situations…

Fear of criticism — shoes from total strangers.

Say you’re starting a blog and you’re worried about people not getting it. Saying mean things.

There are a couple of practical, “in the hard” things you could do to create more of a sense of safety there.

• You can set up comments so they have to be approved.

• You could get a friend to approve them for you once a day so you don’t have to see them. Maybe you trade.

  Then after six months or so you can find out how many shoes your friend has deleted for you. My guess is going to be not that many. But hey at least you didn’t have to encounter any of them yourself.

  Safety? Now there’s more of it.

• You might also create a comment policy. Or a disclaimer-ey page. Or both. So that it’s very, very clear to potential shoe-throwers what’s cool and what’s not.

Fear of criticism — shoes from people who love you.

You want to write a book or teach a class or sell stuff on Etsy. You want to start doing your thing.

And you’re feeling anxious, anticipating the avalanche of what-ifs and “here are all the ways you might fail” from the people you want to be on your side.

Your friends. Your partner. Your family. Those people.

That’s when it becomes really important to remember that your baby idea is a tiny, sweet thing, and it’s vulnerable.

Which means two things:

1. You want to be extremely careful when you choose who gets to know about it and how much they get to know.
2. You are going to have to be very clear when you ask for support. Specifically this means saying something like this:
   

   “Honey, I’m guessing that you might have some really helpful suggestions about why this might not work, because you want to protect me. And I really appreciate that you love me and want me to be safe.

   And, at the same time, I need to ask you to not give me any constructive criticism on this at the moment, because right now I am feeling very vulnerable.

   I need to stay motivated, and what’s going to motivate me — at the moment — is reminders of how smart and tough I am.

   At a later date we can talk strategy — right now I’m really needing support and encouragement.”

Fear of criticism — shoes from people who don’t really love you.

People you work with.

People you have to interact with because of stupid, annoying circumstances — not people you would ever willingly invite to your house for dinner.

This is where things can really suck — if you’re in a situation where you just can’t avoid these people and the endless shoe-throwing drama of being around them.

This is where it helps to have a band of allies.

It might be people who carry some sort of symbolic meaning for you — like in Barbara Sher’s trippy ideal family exercise.

• It can be people you know. Yow can count me in on yours.
• Some of your allies will help you come up with smart things to say.
• Some of your allies will serve as reminders that you are loved and adored.
• Some of your allies will be there for moral support and maybe some will be kicking ass for you too.

The point is, you are not alone.

You are not alone.

Even when it really, really feels like you are. We’re all going through this. And we’re all working on our own stuff. We’re in it together.

And then?

You march in there, packing emotional protection — and then you go into scientist mode.

You remind yourself that anything they say is their stuff. That the fact that it bothers you is your stuff. And that you are just there taking notes on this situation for your own personal destuckification process.

You’re learning about your patterns. Where you get hooked. Where you get triggered. Which things you perceive as shoes, which things you don’t, and why.

And then you patch yourself up and drink tea and look at your notes. And make preparations for next time.

And maybe the time after that. For the time — eventually — when none of this will touch you because you will be in sovereignty, which is the state (and spiritual quality) of not giving a damn about stupid shit that other people might say.

Whooo!

I could have ended this post right there, but I have another magic trick thingy that’s so useful that I just have to share.

The invisible mentor.

Everyone needs an invisible mentor. They’re like aikido for shoe-blocking.

It goes like this.

Concerned Annoyed Pushy Person In Your Life: “Oh is that what you’re interested in now? It’s so hard to know what with you changing your mind every two minutes. When are you going to settle down and do something sensible?”
You: “Actually, my artistic mentor is extremely excited about this new direction. We’re not discussing it with outside people while it’s in planning mode, though. I’ll update you on it when it’s something I can talk about.”

Concerned Annoyed Pushy Person In Your Life: “Oh come on, you’re never going to make any money coaching people. How much did you make last year? What are the numbers?”
You: “Well, you know, my business mentor is very firm about me not discussing the numbers with anyone until we hit the target we’re working towards.”

See how that works?

The important thing.

The concerned, annoyed, pushy people in your life are related to your monsters — they mean well, they’re looking out for you, and, at the same time, you’re still hurting from it.

And your invisible mentor is like your Negotiator — the one who can be calm and collected and knows what to say, even when you’re all torn apart.

If you don’t have one, you can go ahead and pretend that I’m yours. Or Selma, if you prefer. I’m sure she’d be great at it.

Comment zen.

We all have our stuff. We’re all working on our stuff. It’s a process. We’re in it together, so we don’t give advice but we do empathize and pass the snacks around. Mmmmm. Snacks.

Personal ads! They’re … personal! Very.

So my itty bitty personal ads made me realize that it’s time to make a regular practice of trying to feel okay asking for stuff.

And now it’s my weekly ritual. Yay, ritual!

A love letter this time.

Because The Fluent Self is celebrating a birthday today. And it feels like kind of a big deal. So I’m writing it a letter.

My dear sweet love,

It is five years today since I knew you existed. A few months later when you first got your real name.

And four years today since we marched into City Hall in San Francisco and made it official.

I felt as though I was holding you in the palm of my hand, trying to grasp how something so fragile and so special could breathe and exist in this world.

Like if someone breathed too hard, you would be gone. Whoosh. A dandelion in a gust of wind.

But I was wrong.

You may have been a tiny, sweet thing, but you were also a force to be reckoned with. So much power. So full of surprises. The best possible birthday present to me. Every single year.

And look at you now.

Your success provides me and Selma and my gentleman friend with a beautiful, safe place to live and everything we need. With a kooky, bizarre, fun, meaningful life.

With this space. This gathering of bright, interesting, silly people who are my people. My right people.

And you care for me as much as I care about you.

And you are pure possibility.

Oh yes. You are my pirate ship and I am your pirate queen. We can go anywhere together, because you are the fastest and — when I am with you — I become the smartest and the silliest and I can imagine anything.

Who would have thought? Not me.

Remember?

Ohmygod.

I knew nothing about business. Nothing.

But you needed to live. And thrive. And do crazy, wonderful things in the world.

Also, I really needed to not live on the street.

And so I learned. We didn’t have any money so I threw myself into reading everything I could get my hands on.

Remember? How many ezine-thingies and online newsletters we devoured? How many stacks of business books from the library?

The classes at the Small Business Association. The freebie teleclasses from various biggifiers. The binders of notes and piles of scribbled ideas.

It was two years before we actually bought anything. A class with Andy. It was awesome. I was too scared to speak during the calls but I took notes on how one day I would teach mine.

I remember.

I remember when I was too embarrassed to hand out business cards without adding oh I’m such a corporate whore sell-out sorry that I have a business card I know it’s gross I’m sorry.

I remember when we’d get six people on a teleclass instead of six hundred.

And when it was terrifying instead of fun.

I remember doing things the hard way. I remember staying up too late and getting up too early.

Forgetting to take care of myself. Forgetting to live by what I wanted to teach.

And of course there were shoes thrown at us. Each time the period of paralyzing fear and agonizing doubt that followed got shorter…

But it took a hell of a long time to even notice that.

We’ve been through a lot of scary together.

Like when we produced the Procrastination Dissolve-o-Matic. It took months. Just the hugest, craziest most intimidating project.

And I was so afraid we’d never finish and I’d have to die of shame. Or possibly of boredom from everyone I met making “oh, are you procrastinating on your procrastination book” jokes.

Then it was done and only a couple of people bought it even though it was on sale for practically nothing (in retrospect possibly because it was on sale for practically nothing).

And my monsters were horrible and bitchy about it:

What’s the point why do you even bother doing anything since no one appreciates it anyway and it probably isn’t even any good and you’re wasting your goddamn liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiife.

Except that then the people who had it were getting these amazing results. And changing their lives in cool and completely surprising ways.

It’s now our most popular product by a lot (even though my own personal favorite is still the Emergency Calming Techniques package). So. Just goes to show ya.

Yeah. I know. It was me who was worried. You, my sweet business, you were fine. You were always fine. I’m the one who concocted all the drama. You just did what needed to be done.

Regrets? Sure.

I’ve made some decisions that weren’t the wisest.

I haven’t always been spending as much time on the bridge as I would have liked.

There have been times when I relinquished my sovereignty and let other people or situations run things.

I have cried myself to sleep. I have overworked us into Emergency Vacations. I have screwed up with people and with things and with commitments. I have lost friends.

And we’ve learned.

Thanks to you, I know how to write a terrific apology letter. Goodness knows I’ve had enough opportunities to practice that one.

We’ve been on German television. In the New York Freaking Times. Done Shiva Nata in unlikely and inappropriate places.

And get this — I can now write a killer sales page in under fifteen minutes. Except that I still can’t say “sales page” without having to throw up a little.

So I call them hats. Yes, hats. It stands for Havi’s Announcing a Thing. HAT. But you love me for that so it totally works.

Thank you, my dear.

You. The Fluent Self.

So much more of a bad-ass than I give you credit for. And so much fun.

You can stand up for yourself now. You can talk to me and show me where you want to go. We can have madcap adventures together. Whee!

Here’s to the next five years, honey.

My commitment.

To love you.

To appreciate you.

To take care of myself so we can love each other up for many more years to come.

Thank you for changing every single thing in my life.

And thanks to all of my commenter mice and the Beloved Lurkers and everyone out there who is a part of my business in some way. I love you all too.

Progress report on past Very Personal Ads.

Just to update you on what’s happened since last time.

I wanted big forward progress on my Playground project. And got it. Though a lot of it happened in my head rather than on the ground. But that counts too. Good stuff.

And I asked for lots of questions for my teleclass on shoe-throwing. Which I got. In spades. Thanks, guys!

The last thing was about transition rituals for birthdays and such. Got a ton of excellent suggestions. And have been coming up with some of my own. So we’re good. Yay.

Comments. Since I’m already asking …

I am adding to my practice of asking for stuff by being more specific about what I would like to receive in the comments.

Here’s what I want (just leave them in the comments):

• Your own personal ads, small or large. Things you’ve asked for. Or are asking for. Or would like to ask for. Or updates on last time!
• If you live in Portland and you think you might have met my Playground space, please let me know!
• Celebrating with me for this wonderful thing that I want!

What I would rather not have:

• Advices.

Thanks for doing this with me!