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.

Here it is:

“Hullo Havi! I’m after some advice and inspiration on getting up earlier to have more time to do things I love in the morning — gots any?”

Oh boy. Do I have stuff to say about this.

Let’s do it. As is usual with the Ask Havi posts, expect a bunch of random points in no particular order, that — she types hopefully — might eventually come together to form some sort of cohesive whole. Or not.

A big (the biggest?) mistake when trying to change a habit.

Too much at once.

If you’re currently getting up at ten past seven and you want to be getting up at five, the worst way to do it is to say I’m getting up at five, dammit. Or else!

That way lies madness. And guilt. Lots and lots of guilt.

And shoulds. And self-thrown shoes.

That’s two hours and ten minutes to beat yourself up about each day. And beating up? Not the most effective thing in the world.

Incremental change is way less violent.

For example?

One day of getting up at 7:07

Two weeks of getting up at 6:55

Two weeks of getting up at 6:42

One week of getting up at 6:33

One week of getting up at 6:17

One week of getting up 6:08

And by that point, deciding to start your day eight minutes earlier is nothing.

It will probably take way less time than what I’ve outlined here, but this is the non-scary version.

Incremental change: note 1

Your monster might say that this is stupid because it takes five weeks and if you weren’t such a dumb-ass lazy good-for-nothing model of pathetic loserdom (okay, that might be my monsters), you could just get up at five tomorrow.

Here’s the thing to tell your monsters:

They are probably right that there are shorter ways to make this change happen. But those ways are not happening.

So you can keep doing the old, familiar thing of feeling horrible about yourself (which official studies of your life have shown totally doesn’t work) …

… or you can spend five weeks practicing in a more gentle way and actually get there.

Incremental change: note 2

Some people really, really resist the idea of incremental change (see the stuff people yelled in the comments section of my post about how I quit smoking), to which I say:

Rock on.

People vary. And that’s a given. So if you personally can’t make peace with incremental change, skip it.

We’re talking about the principle of you having conscious interactions with yourself, not about me pushing any specific technique — go ahead and ignore what doesn’t work for you.

Dissolving the guilt.

Guilt is the great stuckifier, and dissolving it is a big part of interacting with any pattern.

One of the best ways to start with that is just by noticing it’s there.

Whoops. There you are again.

Hello, guilt. You are not the essence of me. You are not the whole of me. You are a temporary part of my experience, and I am learning what I can about you and what you need.

A useful thing for the guilt (and any form of internal resistance, actually) is using even though sentences to sidestep the hard parts.

“Even though I really don’t want to get out of bed, I am allowed to be in resistance. It makes sense that part of me doesn’t want to get up earlier.

“Even though I am feeling hugely guilty (or annoyed or frustrated or anxious) about not being able to shift this yet, I am human. It might take me a while to shift this pattern, but at least I’m learning about it.

“Even though all of my internal thoughts are totally contradictory because one monster thinks I suck for not wanting to get up and the other monster insists that I can’t get up, I am allowed to have contradictory thoughts and desires.”

Morning begins at night.

This is something I took from my teacher, and it has helped me tremendously.

So at night you plant seeds and clues and reminders for your morning.

Maybe this means a sticky note on your alarm clock that says hello my sweet, remember that you wanted to spend fifteen minutes doing some yoga?

Maybe it means setting up the thing you wanted to do in the morning beforehand, so it’s all ready for you if/when you crawl out of bed.

Maybe it means figuring out what will make it easiest for you to get up (warm socks on your nightstand? a light in the bathroom?) and making sure it’s there for you.

Patience: not the most fun thing in the world.

And at the same time, it can be kind of useful to remember that change doesn’t need to happen right this second.

If this pattern has been around for years and years, it can take a while until you learn whatever needs to be learned for it to change form.

That’s normal. It’s not a sign that something is wrong with you.

The thing that Dance of Shiva (which is all about the science of patterns and how they work) has taught me about patterns is that they are their own cure.

Like homeopathy.

The thing that moves a stuck pattern is introducing another pattern into the mix. And when that one becomes automatic and ingrained (which it will), the whole thing starts again.*

* Except that now each time it’s a tiny bit easier because there’s less resistance to letting one thing become another thing.

Stopping here for now.

Holding back the idea flow, because I think this is enough information to assimilate right now.

The more time you spend with both the parts of you that want this new thing, and the parts of you that are grieving the loss of what is familiar and comfortable, the easier it gets to move things.

Because rewriting patterns always involves an element of loss. One thing goes so the new thing can come, and then that new thing will go so something else can come.

And loss is hard. What are you gonna do? Even when the thing you’re losing isn’t what you want, there’s still a hard.

And hard wants love.

So. Giving love to all the hard. And reminding you (okay, reminding myself) that being in this thing of interacting with ourselves is way more important than how we get somewhere or how long it takes to get there.

Comment zen for today.

We all have our stuff.

We’re all working on our stuff.

We’re practicing.

p.s. One more thing!

The once-or-twice-a-year no-cost class thing that my duck and I lead on rewriting patterns is coming up soon. If you have thoughts on stuff you’d like us to cover (or a theme?), you can drop a note in the comments.

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 Sunday ritual. Yay, ritual!

Let’s do this thing.

Thing 1: Rewriting an ask

Here’s what I want:

I asked for movement, fireworks and sparkles on my Big Crazy Idea that came from a Shivanautical epiphany.

And yeah, some progresses have been made. But not what I’d hoped for. Tiny, halting steps.

So I’m going to reformulate the ask.

And make it more about getting out of the way.

Or about recognizing which monsters are saying what so I can listen to them and give them reassurances.

So what I’d like is information about what needs to happen — internally and externally — for me to be able to move forward with this

Ways this could work:

I could do a ton of Dance of Shiva on it.

Or even a little.

I can do some Dork Dancing to let off steam.

And talk to Helpful People. And do some journaling. And call a Pirate Council.

My commitment.

To practice patience.

To be curious.

To interact with my fear monsters and give them space to have their little temper tantrums without thinking that this says anything about me.

Thing 2: FURNITURE. Well, related stuff.

Here’s what I want:

My beloved Hoppy House needs some furniture.

And I have huge issues with giving myself permission to spend money on anything other than the business.

Because my pattern has been investing every penny made right back into The Fluent Self.

Also, all my stuff comes up about “extravagance” again.

So I guess I’m asking for one of two things.

Either:

a. the ability to reframe this whole thing, and to recognize that investing in comfort and stability and support actually IS investing in my business, because my peace of mind is what runs the business.

or

b. the ability to get over this already and just be someone who wants to have a dining room table and can think this is a legitimate thing to want.

Ways this could work:

Not sure.

I don’t want advice. But comfort would be nice.

The ability to give this time would be nice.

Open to some moments of bing.

My commitment.

Making some of the complicated related themes part of what I work on with Dance of Shiva, yoga, writing and whatever wacky rituals I do this week.

Remembering that, given my background and history, this is probably a completely normal thing to be going through and it’s going to be okay.

Thing 3: a solution to a problem that doesn’t seem to have a solution.

Here’s what I want:

Well, either a solution to the problem or for me to stop caring about it.

Ways this could work:

Honestly?

I have absolutely no idea. None.

But I’m open to possibility.

My commitment.

To keep reminding myself that things can change, and have done so in the past.

And that I have useful resources to ground me and keep me strong even when there are things going on that I can’t fix or help.

To sleep on it.

Progress report on past Very Personal Ads.

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

Well, as you know from my first ask today, my Crazy Big Idea is developing more slowly than I’d hoped. Though I’m learning interesting things about why that is.

I also asked for smooth transitioning with some big changes in my business.

The smoothness. It is epic.

Seriously. The smooth transitioning has been about a million times smoother than I’d ever thought possible.

Everything has just fallen into place pretty much effortlessly, and I’m still shaking my head over that one.

And I asked for trust in a challenging situation, and … hard to say. It’s gone better than hoped for in many ways. And I’m still dealing with the repercussions in other ways.

The trust part, though. Very helpful. Working on it. Definitely better at the trusting myself part. It’s the trusting the other people involved that isn’t happening yet.

All in all, useful asks last week. And I will be playing with them some more in the week to come.

And just a reminder:

This practice is about clarity and learning more about my relationship with myself. I know some people see this as a wacky thing or a “law of whatever” thing. You can do what you want with it.

For me, though, it’s about my own process of getting to know how my stucknesses work, so I can try doing things differently.

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. I do not like them.

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.

It has been an odd, schleepy little week.

Full of harbor seals and unexpected bridges and coming home.

I am back in Portland now, and really, really glad to be here. Yay.

The hard stuff

Transitions.

And movement.

And traveling.

And headache-ey wanting to sleep all the time.

Boundaries.

The massive shoe of horribleness I had thrown at me last week still unresolved.

Lovely.

Too much happening!

Lots of absolutely brilliant epiphanies from all the Shiva Nata at my Destuckification Retreat.

But then really, really wanting to implement some of that good stuff, and all these other things popping up in the way.

Impatience!

Worrying about things that haven’t happened.

Contingency-planning mode is not really my best space.

Luckily, there was crazy good stuff this week so moving on.

The good stuff

Oh, boy! Post-retreat vacation.

My gentleman friend and I spent four days in Monterey after the retreat was over.

A tiny hotel. An enormous bath. Much walking the beach.

It was excellent.

Really good hummus.

In Monterey. Of all places.

Things totally not being as bad as I think they’re going to be, and really not being bad at all.

When I left to teach the Retreat, there was a semi-huge pile of Stuff I Didn’t Want To Deal With on my list.

Actually, it was a pile of Stuff I Hadn’t Looked At Because I Was Afraid It Would Turn Out To Be Stuff I Didn’t Want To Deal With.

So I decided to save it to be the Stuff I Psych Myself Up To Look At When I Get Back.

And then I peeked. And of course it all turned out to be absolutely lovely things that didn’t involve me doing anything other than saying why yes I’d love to.

Whew.

Must. Remember.

I think I’m over my massage issues? Or mostly over. AWESOME.

After I went through that whole thing about how I don’t like massage, I spent the Seven Days of Destuckification week working on that.

And getting massages. Really good ones. Here. With Caroline. Who is a wonder.

And working on it some more.

So. Not hating the massage. And sometimes even kind of loving it. Progresses!

Yay!

The most genius idea in the entire world.

Thanks to those Shivanautical epiphanies.

I can’t tell you about it just yet but trust me. This is the coolest thing I have ever done. Ever.

EXCITEMENT!

Back home.

Hello there, sweet, wonderful bed. I have missed you. A lot.

Drunk Pirate Council!

See, my duck and I never have meetings because I loathe meetings.

And it’s a problem because I run a business. And meetings are kind of necessary. But I postpone them because they suck.

Now we have Drunk Pirate Council instead and it’s the bomb. I’m actually looking forward to the next one. If the winds be favourable!

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 we have:

Iguanadon of the Dead

It’s just one guy.

And … STUISMS of the week.

Stu is my paranoid McCarthy-ist voice-to-text software who delights in torturing me misunderstanding me. I can’t stand him.

• inebriated chicken instead of “abbreviated chicken”
• votive enhances instead of “furtive glances”
• iron hick elements instead of “ironic aerobics”
• fork dancing instead of “dork dancing”
• Spanish fly instead of “banish the guy”
• trunk pyrite bounce ill instead of “drunk pirate council”

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.

So there’s this thing that tends to happen when your brain is all scrambled, which is that the part of you that is excessively sensible forgets to weigh in.

It’s awesome.

Because then you get all the stuff you would normally never say. Much of it surprising. And some of it actually astonishingly true.

You challenge your brain. You cross the midline. You jumble things up.

And then you ask questions to see what you know.

The question I asked last week was a new one. Well, at least I thought it was a new one.

“Where is the bridge?”

Where is the bridge?

Context.

So we were at the Destuckification Retreat and we were doing some Shiva Nata, which is super-smart brain-zapping craziness of the most absurdly wonderful kind.

I can’t remember which day this was. If our practice was silly or deep or completely transcendent.

Or some combination of all of those.

Either way, we were seriously scrambled.

Everyone grabbed a notebook and I started asking questions.

And then we got to the bridge.

Where is the bridge? The first realization.

This is what my challenged-out twisted-around mixed-up brain wrote in response:

“I’m right underneath it.”

Huh?

“I’m right underneath it.

Which is making it hard to see. That’s why I can’t see the bridge. Because my boat is right under it.

I’m passing through this transitional thing so the bridge isn’t where I was looking for it.

And because of the nature of transition, I can’t see that I’m in transition.

But now I know where it is, so I can orient myself to this change. Everything is better when you know where the bridge is.

So. I’m not waiting for it. It’s here.”

Pause.

The silent sounds of synapses connecting.

Snap. Zap. Bing. Zoooooooooooooom.

Got it.

Where is the bridge? The second realization.

Almost as if my pen knew what it needed to say before my brain did.

Everything I wrote was unexpected.

“Oh.

Oh.

The bridge is not only the thing my pirate ship is directly under. It’s also at the front of the boat.

It’s where I should be. On the bridge. Because I am the pirate queen.

But I have been neglecting my navigation because of distractions. Because of pain. Because of survival stuff.

I need to be both more in charge and also more hands-off at the same time.

Which I could do if I were spending more time on the bridge. Of the ship.

Captain! You’re WANTED ON THE BRIDGE!

Like that.

What would the pirate queen do? Be beautiful. Be both visible and invisible. Be on the bridge.”

Where is the bridge? The third realization.

San Francisco.

It was Shiva Nata and some dreams and some stars that took me from Berlin to San Francisco four years ago. And that’s how I met my gentleman friend. Kind of.

Anyway, the first thing that happened right after that? The Golden Gate Bridge told me how sad it was.

Yeah. That was sort of bizarre. Anyway.

So I launched a project to help the bridge. And between my fear monsters and some people in my life who tend to know exactly what to say to encourage those monsters, the project died.

It died the sad little death of all projects that aren’t fortunate enough to have someone to believe in them.

I spent Christmas Day on the bridge. And then that was it.

But what my synaptically-super-connected brain was telling me was that the project was not gone. Not forgotten. It had just morphed into a brand new thing. A new incarnation.

That what I was doing now was helping people find bridges. Make connections. And not just in the brain but everywhere.

Where is the bridge? The fourth realization.

Right before San Francisco, a bunch of real-life things conspired to make going there actually possible.

And one of them was someone from there who came to one of my very first workshops and asked me about the bridge.

He was talking about a linguistic bridge. A metaphorical bridge. A conversational bridge.

But of course he wasn’t. And my brain finally figured it out.

Last week. On paper. As a buzzing whirring mass of tiny Shivanautical epiphanies began whizzing by almost too fast to catch.

The bridge in question was the question.

In other words, asking where the bridge is turns out to be the thing that helps you find the bridge.

Bridges reveal themselves when you ask them where they are.

And why ask?

1. it is useful to know what you are currently between.
2. it is useful to know what your options are for making connections between here and there.
3. just like how (very often, at least) there is no shoe, sometimes there also doesn’t need to be a bridge — but it’s hard to realize that without asking.
4. once you know where it is, you can reposition yourself in relation to it.

You can change your orientation.

Back to the bridge.

The bridge is where I find the midpoint.

The bridge is where I say this is what I’m feeling and I give myself permission to feel it.

The bridge is the part of my ship where I belong.

Where I know what is mine and what is not mine. Where I can make the big navigational decisions and also the really tiny ones.

And all of that is a fragment of what my brain told my fingers to tell my pen to spill into my notebook after fifteen minutes of Shiva Nata and one question.

Comment zen for today.

Would you like to play? Yay. Play with me!

You are more than welcome. You don’t even have to be a Shivanaut. You don’t have to do or be anything.

Except ask where is the bridge and then write down what comes to you.

You can also not play. Or play and not share. Or comment about something else entirely. I don’t mind. My duck and I like you just as much either way.

The only big thing is that this is a safe space to play, which means we don’t throw shoes, and we don’t give advice. I’m going back to the bridge to have a tea.

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.

So. Selma and I are back.

Back from teaching a week of Destuckification Retreat in California, followed by four delicious days of recovery, which basically consisted of imitating harbor seals.

You’d think I wouldn’t have any Items (Item!) but you’d be wrong. I have all kinds of things that I was Itemizing.

Item! Post No. 52 in a semi-ongoing Wednesday series that kind of surprises me each time it happens.

Item! Best epiphany ever? Possibly. Definitely best blog post title ever.

Maartje has clearly been doing her Shiva Nata because she is zooming with the hot buttered epiphanies.

This completely charming, thoughtful post about the Hierophant, capital-P Patterns and her own relationship with money is a wonderful read.

Also she mentions me, so extra points. :)

“I’ve done you wrong, poor archetype!

It’s one of those truisms, that the thing you hate is the thing you need. I dislike truisms, but this time it’s, well, true.

But I know what you look like now, pattern. I know which face of the Hierophant you use to try to get me scrambling for safety.

And I know the solution to a locked door: remember that I’ve got my own keys, and use them.”

She’s @martieu on Twitter.

Item! Observations.

A quiet piece that was just the thing I needed to read at the moment I read it.

“You look down when necessary to avoid a nasty chunk of sidewalk or the errant pile of poo, your injured ankle begging for attention, but you don’t look too long, lest you seem weak. Don’t limp. Don’t appear vulnerable.”

She’s @casey_cole on Twitter.

Item! How to swear in Cornish!

Up a storm!

So. This is kind of … not safe for work.

Unless you work in my old bar.

But it’s cursing. In Cornish. And boy you can say all sorts of dirty things in Cornish.

There’s almost nothing I can quote here, but I did find this one sort of safe one:

“Ny synsav anodho favenn goeg = I don’t care an empty bean”

Apparently.

Got to this via the lovely Kate who is @tangokate on Twitter.

Item! Are you in Seattle?

Because you should be.

Amy from Barefoot Phoenix — who is lovely, by the way — is doing a 90 minute class on how to give an amazing massage without hurting yourself or wearing yourself out in the process.

So you have all the magic touch skills but you can still be really smart and cautious and knowledgeable.

You can go Saturday, February 13th at 5:00 pm or Sunday the 14th at 1:00 pm.

Affordable and awesome. If I were in Seattle I’d be there in a second.

She’s @barefootphoenix on Twitter.

Item! This post is called potluck. And it made me cry.

I love you, BHJ.

“… the meat devouring drug addicts liked to tease the straight edge vegans. The straight edge vegans thought the meat devouring drug addicts were uncivilized and ridiculous.

It was a war. But still. The kind of war made out of love.

All of them were broke, so me and Jenna would have them over for a potluck on Wednesday nights. We just avoided topics like drugs and animals and things went fine.”

Potluck.

You can always count on him for the good stuff.

He’s @wwbhjd on Twitter.

Item! It really is just one guy.

So you know how every Friday we do a thing called a Chicken and there’s always a Fake Band Of The Week who is just one guy?

This band is four guys (five?) who are just one guy.

Via Dick Carlson who is @techherding on Twitter.

Item! Iguanaccountability works even when it shouldn’t.

Also, Virginia Ruth is a rockstar.

That’s what the post is called. And yes, accurate description. Rock-star status confirmed.

“Dancing and singing in the kitchen is one of those things that make me feel super-hot and wish someone was around to see how adorable I am. Possibly the hotness is all in my head, though, so it might be a good thing no one ever is. (Kneading bread while Nina Simone sings the blues, though… that is plainly and undisputably hot. I should make bread soon.”

Nice!

Plus she used my iguanaccountability and it did cool things.

She’s @lirelyn on Twitter — go say hi to her!

Item! Floors and foundations. Good stuff.

Victoria’s teaching a business-growing program called Floors and Foundations.

It’s a ten month thing, and it looks amazing. I’ve met Victoria (twice!) and she’s good people. Plus she has a big fat brain and a very kind heart. So consider this a warm recommendation of pretty much anything she does.

She’s @victoriashmoria on Twitter.

Item! Update from the land of the Peculiar & Hilarious Shivanauts!

The “peculiar and hilarious” thing comes from Melynda’s sweet bit about Butterfly Wishes.

I kind of did a mini-collection of Shivanautical posts.

Casey (@casey_cole) wrote about being off-balance.

Holly (@HollyMarieHill) wrote about her stuck being a bear.

Eric (he’s @ericnormand) wrote about the relationship between internal noise and internal information.

Elizabeth (@elizabethhalt) wrote about motivation and how her stuckified About page accidentally wrote itself.

Oh, and read this one too. From an anonymous new Shivanaut.

And — when Havi says get lost she means get completely lost, I think, because I was floating on a log in the ocean a million miles from shore with how wrong I was doing it and had the best day afterwards.

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

• Things you’re thinking about.
• Some kind of ritual for my new weekly Pirate Council (because pirate queens don’t go to “meetings” (bleargh) — that would be awesome.

My commitment.
I am committed to giving time and thought to the things that people say. Even though asking for what I want still feels awkward for me, I’m just going to remind myself that this is a thing I’m practicing.

That is all.

Happy reading.

And happy Blustery Windsday. Unless you’re Claire, in which case you may have a balmy one. See you all tomorrow for non-Itemized regular old posties.

Yesterday I spent the better part of the day observing harbor seals at Monterey Bay.

And then practicing being one.

Or being like one.

Observations.

It’s hard to see something as ridiculously awesome as a harbor seal without going all annoyingly National Geographic and just anthropomorphizing the hell out of it.

I observed stuff about harbor seals. Of course all of this is probably wrong, but oh well.

We were close enough to see them blink.

Close enough to hear them sneeze.

My gentleman friend.

My gentleman friend walks me to the spa.

He says, “Sweetie, go be a harbor seal. Go do nothing and go be comfortable and go give yourself the right to care about nothing but being comfortable.”

Here’s what I see when I watch harbor seals.

They’re hanging out mostly in groups, but without interacting in any visible way.*

* Actually, we kept seeing them in bunches of six, which made for inappropriate Seventh Seal jokes that totally would not stop being funny.

If you are a seal, your job apparently boils down to this:

Find a comfy rock to curl up on, roll around on the rock until you find the most comfortable position. And then stay there. For hours.

Belly up. Belly down. Wacky seal yoga pose. But once you find your rock, you’ve found your rock and that is it.

If someone else gets the rock before you, baby that’s how it is. No one fights over the rocks. You just wait and then the tide goes out and eventually there is a rock for you to nap on too.

You ignore everything, including your fellow seals. You especially ignore birds. So not interesting.

Even the pelicans who are totally eyeing your rock. Or who have claimed a rock that could easily be yours if you made a move.

Relaxed.

Seems like a good life.

Virginia.

I meet a woman named Virginia at the spa.

She goes there to get a facial whenever she can.

She says the thing about chemo is that everything is so unpleasant that the good things become really good.

Like a cookie. A cookie is really good when you’re in chemo because everything else is completely miserable.

Or a facial. A facial makes things more bearable. A really good facial is a reminder that things are good.

I like Virginia. She has a nice way about her and a this is really me smiling at you kind of smile.

Then I notice part of me feeling uncomfortable.

My monsters are making it hard to have a conversation because they think that anything I think or say will be completely insipid.

I stop. I do the harbor seal thing.

The harbor seal says ground. The harbor seal says go back to your center where the balance is. The harbor seal says find your rock. The harbor seal says movement is not really as necessary as you think it is.

The harbor seal says:

Take care of yourself first, so that you can be present for her. You can’t be present with her pain or her discomfort if you’re not aware of your own coming up.

Judgment.

Giving yourself permission to be a harbor seal is not as easy as you might think.

The first thing I think when I see them lolling about on the rocks with their casual expressions and their happy bulging bellies is this:

“Seriously, don’t they have predators? That can’t be safe. Can it?”

That was my fuzzy fear monster (the one who doesn’t like cookies, probably).

Because my fuzzy fear monster says that if I relax I’ll get hurt. Again.

The second thing I think, watching the harbor seals is GET A JOB!

And that’s another fuzzy fear monster who thinks that if I take care of myself and get enough rest and care, other people will think I’m lazy and unmotivated.

I look at my judgment and I look at the water and I look at the seals.

I ask: what happens to this judgment and fear when I am a harbor seal?

And the answer is: I don’t care.

I don’t care.

When I am a harbor seal, I don’t care about fear or judgment.

Instead I care about nap time. And comfortable rocks. And being all content and schleepy in the sun.

My monster might think I’m going to get lost in the comfortable and never find my way back, but that’s what the mediators are for.

I have a new mediator. A harbor seal who blinks at my monster and says, Dude.

Stella.

The woman giving me the tour of the spa wants to know if I am here for some sort of special occasion, and I don’t know what to say in response.

Mind freeze.

My fuzzy fear monster says I suck at the small talks.

I could say something frivolous like why yes it’s the anniversary of last Monday.

Or I could say something about my intention like this is just how I take care of my body.

But that’s not true. Not yet. As my fuzzy fear monster keeps pointing out.

So.

Instead I become a harbor seal.

I say:

“It just seemed like it would feel good.”

And then I don’t say anything else, and my fuzzy fear monsters wait to see if the world will explode.

She says, I’m Stella if you need anything.

What would a harbor seal do?

During my massage I pretend I am a harbor seal and it helps me get through the parts I don’t like.

After my massage I head to the water.

There is an empty jacuzzi on the roof, looking out over the bay.

I am a harbor seal so I find all the most comfortable spots. I am a harbor seal so I rub my back against the wall.

I am a harbor seal so I frolic when I want to frolic and space out when I want to space out.

I am a harbor seal so I just sit there and do nothing while the sailboats come in and the sky goes pink and there’s nothing but water everywhere.

Comment zen for today.

This is a safe space to work on our stuff (and the fact that we have it), and interact with monsters.

So everyone is allowed to have their stuff, and we respect each other’s right to have it. Because this is a self-proclaimed harbor seal sanctuary.

p.s. If you know crappy, horrible things about harbor seals, tell me some other time. Because right now I’m taking a nap on a rock.

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 Sunday ritual. Yay, ritual!

Let’s do it.

Thing 1: Things to start falling into place for my new crazy idea.

Here’s what I want:

I had some seriously huge epiphanies from all the Shiva Nata we were doing at the Destuckification Retreat last week.

Like, huge does not even begin to describe the earth-shatteringness of it all.

And one of my ideas is so completely insane and so completely brilliant that my toes start to wiggle whenever I think about it.

I want progress on this. Movement! Stuff happening! Fireworks! Sparkles!

Here’s how I want this to work:

Okay. So I can’t tell you what this is about yet so I’m just going to ask that you be really, really excited for me.

In the meantime, I need to find the thing I need to find and connect with the person I need to connect with. Soon.

Maybe even as soon as I get back to Portland. And it needs to be affordable, and it needs to happen with smoothness and ease.

Maybe I can write a VPA just for me with more details, or maybe I’ll feel more comfortable spelling it out more fully here over the next couple of weeks.

My commitment.

I will appreciate my brain for zapping me with bits of genius.

And I will appreciate Dance of Shiva for zapping my brain with the ability to make unexpected connections and provide these moments of bing.

And I will do ridiculous Dork Dancing and there will be much flailing around joyfully as this starts to become an actual thing.

Huzzah!

Thing 2: Smooth transitioning.

Here’s what I want:

So another one of the gigantic Shiva Nata epiphanies this week (which I’ll totally tell you about later) was about ways my business needs to change.

And I got all kinds of clarity around how that might work and what my options are.

Now I know what I want, but a bunch of things need to happen in order to get the pirate ship headed in that direction.

Ways this could work:

Hmmm. Not entirely sure.

I could have courage to have possibly scary conversations in supportive non-scary ways.

And the process could be playful and loving and full of appreciation for what has been up until now as well as excitements for what is coming.

My commitment.

To not have to get everything right.

And to be patient with myself when I really, really want to anyway.

Thing 3: trust in a challenging situation (and maintaining sovereignty when the shoes are flying).

Here’s what’s going on:

So I had an excruciatingly difficult conversation the other day. It involved a lot of shoes being thrown my way, and some tough, angry words.

It left me feeling shaken and also kind of bewildered since it came completely out of nowhere.

There was definitely some stuff that worked. I was able to remain calm and centered, and — more importantly — rational and curious in the face of judgment and blame.

I was able to know and trust and remember that this person’s view of the world is not necessarily the only correct one, just as mine is not necessarily the only correct one.

And I was able to allow for misunderstandings. And to see where some people in my life think they have the right to come into my space and have control over my life.

And to remember that hey, guess what, actually they don’t because sovereignty rocks.

So that was a really big deal, because this is new territory. Still completely hard.

Here’s what I want:

To figure out what it feels like to not be shaken.

More of that lovely sovereignty thing. More trust. More safety. More support.

Also, cheers and recognition for having made this much progress and not falling apart completely which is harder than it sounds.

All this forward movement is totally a combination of Hiro wisdom and crazy Shivanautical epiphanies.

Here’s how this could work:

I can schedule a session with my lovely Hiro. I can meditate on it. I can do Shiva Nata on it.

The situation could magically not suck as much as it does right now.

My commitment.

To make my sense of safety top priority. To not allow other people’s shoulds to dictate my life. To be patient and hope that things will resolve themselves.

To recognize that there is pain on all sides. To be open to having some ease around this pain. To stay grounded.

Progress report on past Very Personal Ads.

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

I wanted help with the what happens with the blog when I’m on retreat thing.

And what happened was that I didn’t. And also I didn’t feel bad about it (most of the time), which was awesome. Though I missed you guys and am super happy to be back.

My gentleman friend put up one unpublished post. And also set up the Items! for me. So it worked. Not necessarily the way I’d thought or hoped but in the way that really worked for me.

So thanks for all of your support with that. Appreciated!

I wanted to record the smartnesses I said while teaching, and my destuckifiers were great about reminding me to turn stuff on and turn stuff off.

And things are working there.

My last ask was about the business running smoothly while I was gone. And I have no idea if it did but I do know that my pirate crew have been taking care of things and being lovely enough not to tell me about anything.

Not really looking forward to finding out what’s waiting for me tomorrow (uh oh, should that be its own VPA?) but appreciating that I didn’t have to do Fluent Self work this week while I was teaching in Monterey.

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.

Selma and I have been away all week (wait, we still are away, how weird is that), teaching my Destuckification Retreat in Monterey, California.

So my entire chicken is pretty much about that, since that’s what I’ve been doing.

The hard stuff

Being away from you guys.

I seriously missed hanging out on the blog with you.

Though I did some peeking and reading of comments on my phone. Thank you for all the love and the support and the spaciousness this week, and especially for all the tea you made for me yesterday.

Time going by way too quickly.

Too many things I wanted to do.

So many people I wanted to spend time with.

It was just zooooooooom gone.

Missing old routines, getting new ones, now saying goodbye to the new ones. Sigh.

First I missed all my wacky morning rituals and things that didn’t seem to work while on holiday.

But now I’m all sad about not having a group of people to do Shiva Nata on the beach with and Old Turkish Lady yoga with.

Also?

How can Retreat be over? I want to stay on retreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeat.

Basically, change = challenging right now. Is all I’m saying.

I missed my bed.

And my red flannel sheets.

And my gentleman friend’s cooking.

And Hoppy House! Oh Hoppy House!

Some adjustments of expectations combined with patterns of disappointment.

So everything about the retreat has been amazing.

And at the same time there were minor disappointments about the place itself.

The food … sometimes good and occasionally terrific but definitely not what we were promised. Double beds in the single rooms. Little things.

Which triggered my momma hen stuff around wanting to make sure everyone was being taken care of. So that needed some attention.

The good stuff

The place.

The Pacific ocean being right there.

Long walks on the beach.

Baby deer everywhere.

The enormous sky. The stars. The trees. It was a great setting for what we were there to do.

The people.

Wow.

I don’t even know what to say other than that I genuinely adore every single person who was there and am filled with so much love for them.

So much smart. So much funny. So much goofy. So much real. So much ridiculous. So much kind-heartedness. And caring. And quietly exuberant.

Just an amazing group of human beings who were exceptionally fun to play with and really were up for whatever I threw at them.

Mad Dance of Shiva, inappropriate Shivanauttery and crazy transformative stuff.

We did so much Shiva Nata, in so many different ways.

To The Clash.

On the beach.

Level 4.

In circles and in squares.

In groups and on our own.

To music and in silence.

With laughter and tears and playfulness and grace. It was absolutely incredible.

The goofing off.

Was exquisite.

No one goofs off like my people. This is quality goofing off I’m talking about here. High-level hilarity.

We danced like trolls at a trance party. We made ridiculously silly noises. We did Dance of Shiva to the Beastie Boys.

There was the hilarious Ironic Aerobics class. And a Dork Dancing Extravaganza featuring exceptionally bad break dancing.

We laughed until we cried. Until our muscles ached.

There was so much playing. It was like being six again. And it was brilliant.

Weird epiphanies.

All sorts of unexpected bits and pieces.

The love.

Seriously intense. Like, you are in a room and that room is full of love.

Very, very cool.

Getting to come back from retreat despite being sad about the ending.

Looking forward to my routines.

And my rituals. And writing. And being here on the blog.

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.”

Oh boy. I am pleased to announce the return of Battle of the Fake Bands. Yes!

This week our final contestants are:

Our Baby Koala Overlords

And

Monster Sidecar

Oh yes. It’s weird though, because it’s just one guy.

Thanks @nathanbowers and @jzy for the first one and my goofball retreaters at the Destuckification Retreat for the second one. :)

And … STUISMS of the week.

Stu is my paranoid McCarthy-ist voice-to-text software who delights in torturing me misunderstanding me. I can’t stand him.

Stu is on vacation this week too because of the retreating. Alas.

It’s also kind of awesome though because I went an entire week without typing and ohmygod yay.

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.

Selma and I are away in Monterey teaching our Destuckification Retreat, so this post is one I actually wrote several days ago.

Correction.

It has occurred to me more than once — actually, about twice a week — that I have done something of an injustice to my friend who is dead.

It’s been a couple years since he killed himself, a year and six months and eleven days since they told me. It gets better. I don’t cry every day.

But the impression I have given of him here is one of sadness. And that isn’t fair. Or true.

I told you about the International Day of Borekas and Repression because I was the one who needed it.

And because, at whatever conscious or subconscious levels I was looking for signs of unhappiness with the world on his part. Some sort of reason or justification for why.

I have at least eight years full of memories of my friend who is dead. And the only one I told you about was the only one where someone could go to find a sliver of sadness.

And even then it was sadness tinged with funny. Even then, it was my sadness and not his.

Here is what I remember when I remember.

I remember happy.

A short skirt and a long jacket.

His last apartment. An unlikely little space in a kooky building in Neve Tzedek. From the broad rectangular window you can see all the way to the sea.

I’m cross-legged on the couch, making notes for a yoga class I have to teach the next day out in Ra’anana and not wanting to leave Tel Aviv.

We’re listening to Cake — the Comfort Eagle album.

And he’d just bought it and he’s over-the-top joyful about the short-skirt-long-jacket song. Jumping around. Singing along. Clapping. With that grin of pure delight.

I want a girl with a mind like a diamond.

I want a girl who knows what’s best.

I want a girl with shoes that cut and eyes that burn like cigarettes.

And I kind of never got into that album because my ex-husband had absolutely loved it, and anyway I’d been deep into the yoga thing and listening to nothing but mantras in Sanskrit for at least a year but I was there and for the first time I really heard the song and it was perfect.

Hummus. Again.

We both have a day off at the same time and of course it is absolutely vital that we go have hummus right this second but how often do you get just the right hummus day so we have to go to the really good hummusiya.

If it were early in the morning we’d go to the old Syrian guy in the shuk but it’s afternoon so we’re going to that one hummusiya in Yafo.

And we drive. For some reason. I can’t remember why he had the car.

The place is packed because it’s always packed. And the guys who work there are seriously happy to see him because everyone who knows him is happy to see him always.

I make him order extra zchug because I’m not in the mood for the usual “oh look the white girl thinks she can handle the spicy” jokes. And he gives me his. And we’re happy. Because day off + hummus + everything is good.

And everything is funny.

We’re at the bar I used to work at. When I was still working at the other bar.

Between the two of us we probably know everyone there.

And for some reason, everything is funny. We’re actually laughing so hard that it’s difficult to breathe.

Lots of things are hard for me. My divorce. Money scariness. Whatever the latest crisis du jour is.

But right then everything is funny. Made more funny by being bearable, and more bearable by being so funny.

And I remember things other than HAPPY.

I remember concern.

Like when there was a terrorist attack across the street and no one knew what was happening and everyone was freaking out.

My friend was the one who took control of things, who made the calls to find out what was going on, to let people know I was okay.

And worry.

About me, of course.

And cheering-up.

Ending up at this complete dive in south Tel Aviv. There was live Greek music and total drunken chaos.

It would have been my wedding anniversary except for the divorce. And apparently my plan of Private Bitter Moping was not acceptable to my friend, who knew that live Greek music at a dirty hole in the wall was going to help. It did.

Also, I knew half the people there because it was all old guys, Moroccan cab drivers and Iraqi fruit sellers, who tended to frequent the same kinds of semi-disreputable places where I invariably worked.

I remember making a toast to something. Knowing that it wasn’t going to hurt so much.

And of course the general existential angst of being in your twenties and not having plans.

All the wondering you do about what you’re going to do with your life and with whom, if at all, and for what reasons and how any of it was supposed to work.

And support.

For everything.

For my writing that I refused to tell anyone about. Standing up for me at work when my boss was being an ass.

And not getting along.

We had the hugest fight once. And then some non-fights that were really fights. And then months before we could really work stuff out.

Oh, I can see him disappointed. And annoyed. And frustrated. And anxious. And upset.

And getting along again.

We fixed things. I can see relief. And forgiveness. And caring. And respect. And love.

I remember so many things.

Here’s the thing. My friend who is dead was quick and funny and loving and bright and enthusiastic and ridiculously talented.

I remember him in so many ways. I remember him being energized and I remember him tired. Contemplative. Happy. Listening. Upset. Distracted. Silly. Curious. Busy. Bored. Teasing.

Inventing a song. Cleaning. Resting. Coming. Going.

But not sad. Not depressed. Not someone who didn’t genuinely like being alive.

I get that there may never be a why. That it’s just going to be my own learning to stop asking for reasons, to stop looking for things to blame.

And my memories are full of good.

Memory and coming back to what was.

This isn’t me choosing to remember the good stuff. It’s not me choosing the good over the hard. That’s not what’s happening.

It’s me remembering what was. Or, what was for me.

And what was is rich and layered. My what was covers a broad spectrum of emotions and experiences.

My writing about sadness was one tiny corner. Maybe not even noticeable in the frame. It was where I needed to go when I needed to be there.

I remember sitting on the roof.

I remember doing Dance of Shiva while the sun was setting over the Mediterranean.

When I do Dance of Shiva now, I remember that it is the dance of anger and the dance of joy. And the dance of remembering.

When I let everything move, I can remember loss and I can remember pain and I can remember that everything is beautiful.

Comment zen for today

What I don’t want

I am not looking for advice. In fact, I have already given what I need to receive, in the form of these tiny bits of wisdom.

What would be useful

Love. Time. Space. A cup of tea.

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.

Selma and I are away in Monterey teaching our Destuckification Retreat* so we weren’t really on the internets that much. Luckily we always have a surplus of excellent things wanting to be Itemized.

And yes, I totally wrote this in advance.

Also, some of the Items (Item!) are kind of long because I had to make up for last week’s extra-brevity edition.

*Retreeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaat! Advaaaaaaaaaaaaaaance! Run awaaaaaaaaaaay!

Item! Post No. 51 in a series whose existence sometimes kind of gets on my nerves but I do it anyway because I really like shouting Item!

Item! Someone actually kind of understands what I do!

When your duck is famous, you tend to run into all sorts of stuff about yourself on the internet.

Some of it is sweet. Some of it is mean. Some of it is just bizarre.

But a lot of the time I get the sense that people kind of have no idea what my work is about. They’re describing bits of the elephant but it comes out all wrong.

Like people will say, “Havi is a social media expert who writes about communication” and then I want to go and cry, even though yeah, I do sometimes write about communication.

Whatever. As long as no one calls me a “thought leader” (eeeeeeeew), I’m mostly fine.

But you cannot even imagine how overjoyed I was to come across this post because this wonderful person figured out what I do.

“Here’s the thing. Havi talks about the hard and stuck stuff that keeps us spinning our wheels and driving ourselves crazy with negative self talk about what losers we feel like because we can’t make any headway with our thing or lack of a thing.

And she does it in a way that honors and respects the Hard without making you feel like a total, useless freak because you have a HARD and ARE stuck.”

Best Twitter name ever? @wulfshado.

Item! Doing it right on Etsy.

I like Etsy. I like having a way to support artists and fabulous craft-ey people of a variety of stripes while getting gorgeous hand-made things.

It’s where I buy presents for people. And where I get stuff for Hoppy House.

But I’m almost always wanting to rewrite people’s intro “about the store” paragraph.

So often it’s either not that interesting or it doesn’t make any reference to a website or a twitter stream. Which is important because I want a way to not forget about this person when I’m on Etsy.

This particular Etsy shop is called Fab Gabs Vintage and I love the way she introduces it:

“It was half-past one, and I was just thinking about the lunch counter when SHE walked in. Now I’m telling you, this dame was trouble.

“Detective,” she said “I’m looking for something.”

Right away, I knew I couldn’t help her. I pulled a business card out of my desk.

“Fabgabs.etsy.com” she read.

“That’s right. She’s a swell gal with all the dresses and hats and shoes you could ask for, she…” I suddenly realized I was talking to nobody. Trouble had walked right back out my door.

One if these days I’ll have to stop giving referrals.”

She’s @FabGabsVintage on Twitter and I didn’t even have to do any work to figure that out.

Item! Paypal horror story.

Okay, this hardly counts as an Item (Item!) because paypal horror stories are a dime a dozen.

But still.

A good reminder of why it’s useful to have more than one source of where the monies come from.

As much as I dislike every shopping cart software I’ve ever worked with, and as big a headache as it was to get my own merchant account a few years ago, still better than this:

“We had to add from our own money to pay the developers and now won’t see our money from it until end of May.

During one of my support calls I asked the “specialist” if there was any way I could have prevented my account from being limited because of the higher transaction rate.

For example, perhaps I could contact them and notify in advance of the upcoming sale. The answer was a definitive NO.”

Lovely.

Item! How to say stupid things about social media.

A wonderfully written post with a depressingly terrible comments section (avoid! avoid!).

It’s by Cory Doctorow (from Boing Boing) and I really appreciated it. And read the whole thing despite the fact that I generally avoid anything about social media. Other than, you know, social media. But reading about it. Ugh.

This was great though.

“Criticizing the “banality” of Facebook conversation is as trite and ignorant as criticising people who talk about the weather. There’s a reason we say “Did you sleep well?” at breakfast and “How was your weekend?” when we turn up to the office on Monday (and it’s not that we care about the weekend or the rest).”

He’s @doctorow on Twitter.

Item! Traveling Teeth Follow Rumors of Home…

“As the dentist examined my mouth, probing my gum line with the delicate precision of an ant in a sugar bowl, he said: ‘Your teeth are moving.’

I mumbled: ‘Mrrtgwoof?’”

Hiro talks about restlessness, wandering, patterns and the vibration of home. An excellent post.

She’s @HiroBoga on Twitter.

Item! Everything sounds better with of Doom on the end.

My friend Nathan pointed out that everybody loves things that are “of Doom!”

I have been testing this theory and ohmygosh he’s right.

Thai Food of Doom! Extreme Sex Toys of Doom! Broken Carburetors of Doom! Doomsday Signs of Doom!

Blooming Tulips of Doom! I forgot to take my Vitamins of Doom! I’m going to have a pint of the Stout of Doom!

Yup.

He’s @NathanBowers on Twitter and he was my first real Twitter friend. Ah, those were the days.

Item! Chaos, Entropy, Meet Cosmos.

Loved loved loved this post from Lisa Firke about her, uh, creative approach to filing.

“For my personal papers I used to keep just two file boxes, Chaos and Entropy, but I’ve recently thought of adding a third, Cosmos.”

Fascinating.

She’s @HitThoseKeys on Twitter and she’s awesome.

Item! Update from the land of the Peculiar & Hilarious Shivanauts!

The “peculiar and hilarious” thing comes from Melynda’s sweet bit about Butterfly Wishes.

New date for the next hey, ask me stuff about Dance of Shiva and maybe even dust off your DVD no-cost teleclass thing. You can leave questions in the comments and I’ll do what I can.

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

• Things you’re thinking about.
• What you think when you hear the words “Monarch butterfly grove” because ohmygod a Monarch butterfly grove.

My commitment.
I am committed to giving time and thought to the things that people say. Even though asking for what I want still feels awkward for me, I’m just going to remind myself that this is a thing I’m practicing.

That is all.

Happy reading.

And happy Blustery Windsday. Or a Balmy one. If you need one. I wouldn’t mind one. Because of the butterflies. Anyway. See you tomorrow.