And then past me got to go on retreat.

Me: Can I say something else? Even though I am soliciting advice from you and I hugely appreciate everything you’re telling me, you do not have to run this program.

Pirate Queen me is going to run it with, along with many capable helper mice and with many forms of support, both visible and invisible.

You don’t have to do anything. Your hard, scary, stressful time is over. You get to retire.

Past Me: I do? Yay! What is retirement like?
Me: I don’t know, honey. What would you like it to be like?

The Rally (Rally!) was completely inspired by this post, which in turn was inspired by scooter rallies, and which I was inspired to write about because of my gentleman friend.

A rally, if you’re wondering, is several days of intense projectizing (working on your stuff and also on your stuff) at the Playground, my pirate-ey center of silliness and wonder. It was a wild zen rumpus of the best kind.

And despite the fact that we, the Rally-ers, could not decide what to call ourselves, we managed to have the most brilliant, hilarious time ever.

So I’m teaching a thing that is quite possibly the most crazy-inspired brilliant life-changing thing ever, and I am far too excited about it.

It’s eight days of Biggification* in Asheville, North Carolina. November 3-10.

* Biggification! Mindful biggification! Growing yourself and your thing in creative, fun, hilarious ways, dissolving fears, making things happen, coming up with the most genius plan possible.

Even though this program is already more than half full (because my clients insisted on first dibs), it would probably be a good thing if I put up the copy and announced it and stuff like that.

Right now I cannot even begin to describe how impossibly fabulous this is, but you can at least peek at the outrageously great itinerary to get an idea.

The conversation.

Me: Wait, what? WHAT?! WHAT?! What is that even supposed to mean?
Response: Not. Everything. Requires. A. Response.

Me: But that’s crazy. Also: that cannot possibly be true.
Response: And yet, not everything requires a response.
Me: *finds nearest fainting couch and collapses upon it dramatically*

Here is who you can trust:

Rena.

She won’t take action to help you but she will not lie to you and her advice is solid.

One more thing about Rena. Before she dies she leaves you a message that is very important. Pay attention to this.

If you don’t make it to the hospital in time, forgive yourself. Please.

Guilt sticks up the works. Guilt is an impediment to flow. It slows your ability to be receptive to the information you’re in the process of receiving.

And the three of them were all smooshed together in the middle, hugging and exclaiming over each other and giggling. Like at a crazy reunion slumber party.

Then we all put on our lopsided tiaras and raised a toast to the good ship The Fluent Self, Inc. and Five Years Ago Me was astounded that it’s possible to have a corporation and not be gross and evil.

She was extremely relieved. And then Next Week Me was kind of teasing her a little until Five Years From Now Me said, sweetie, you aint seen NOTHING yet.

I am weird about words.

No kidding. I’m the only biggified blogger I know who has to have a Glossary.

And, unsurprisingly, most of my idiosyncracies are word-related.

Oh, just a tiny smattering of the many words that are physically painful for me to see or hear:

diphthong, caulk, childish, Whig, magenta.

Also: coagulate, dextrose, mercenary.

A word that make me giggle: Stopcock. So funny! I am six years old.

Ways this could work:

I am going to use the Rally (Rally!) to work on it.

Please note that now the Rally has its own HAT! Last week’s VPA totally worked.

Also Shiva Nata for the necessary insights and epiphanies.

And having conversations with the me-who-has-already-done-this to see what pearls of weird-ass wisdom she has to share.

Usually that’s pretty trippy. And useful.

It turns out it’s not so much an office as a … secret lair.

It’s in the mountains. A cave that you access by pressing on a certain rock. I’d tell you more, but I’m sworn to secrecy.

It’s cool in there.

Both in the sense that the air is cool and a tiny bit moist, as is the rock floor, and also that it is awesome.

There are woven rugs. And antique lamps. And light comes in through many cracks and crevices.

And so bored with my blah blah process and this blah blah work.

Kids don’t need help with “process”.

They don’t need help finding their voice. They just have it. It’s their voice.

That’s what’s needed. The thing we need to remember and re-find.

The place where play and freedom and curiosity and wonder aren’t things you need to learn, uncover or access.

To know:

These are just the qualities of being alive. These are the secret allies who hold our billowing superhero cloaks out behind us and stomp with us through puddles.

The next afternoon the focus of the yoga class I taught was to see if we could do yoga like that.