Just so you know, I am physically incapable of saying the word “pause” without making little doggy hands. Paws!

This is going to make writing this pause-centric post extra-challenging, but possibly also entertaining. If you happen to be in the room with me. Paws!

Anyway, back to the point. Selma and I interviewed fellow Shivanaut Diane Ripstein this week, purportedly about public speaking, but actually about life in general.

She was brilliant (as always) and gave loads of genius tips. Especially about the practice of pausing.

Which I am about to do now. With a dotted divider line. Like so!

I couldn’t think of what to call this one, so I looked up the chicken from exactly a year ago today.

It was Special Zombie Chicken (which should totally be a band), and didn’t give me any ideas. But it was kind of fun to read.

Maybe that will be our new ritual for the year… the chicken that was.

Anyway. It’s Friday! We’re here! Well done, all of us.

Sophomore syndrome shows up as any form of resistance to change.

It’s the moment of “things are different” — when that realization brings discomfort instead of reassurance.

It doesn’t really matter what or how things are different.

Different than they were before, different than I what I was expecting, different than a scenario or outcome that I’m really attached to.

“Everything was better then…”

“At Havi’s last program, it was better because…”

“When I did X, it was like Y …”

“I wish that this was …”

It happens. The frustration is natural and legitimate. You’re not a terrible person for being in it. It’s a normal part of going through change. Happens to all of us.

Here’s how I described it:

You will hit the hard at some point. Some serious walls will show up and it is quite possible that you will run right into them. Smack! Ow!

Not fun. Usually — for most people — this happens around the midpoint, towards Day 4.

It’s okay. It’s not you. It’s part of being in a process that is also a passage.

Like seasickness. Or homesickness. It’s just part of the thing. It happens. And you’re on your way through it.

Like this.

Even though I feel anxious about his motivations … I know he really cares about his business. And I also really care about mine. Alignment.

And even though I have a lot of fear of losing out, based on past experience, I bet he does too. Alignment.

Even though I get really worked up when I think that someone is trying to push me, it looks like he does too. Something else we have in common.

I want acknowledgment and so does he. I want people to be considerate of my space and so does he. I want peace of mind and so does he.

There. That wasn’t so bad. Not a fin in sight.

Ahem.

I do apologize for inflicting rhyming crimes against humanity on you.

But seriously, I don’t know how to challenge people to think creatively other than a) modeling it in my business, b) teaching tools for destuckification, c) talking about why it’s so important that you challenge yourself and d) encouraging a culture of playfulness, curiosity and experimentation.

So that’s what I’ve got.

Hmmm. This is going to need some explaining.

Okay. I lived in Israel for a third of my life. And in Israel posted signs work differently than they do in Europe or North America.

Like, if you see a sign that says “entrance forbidden”, you’re still going to hop over the fence.

Everyone does. You know it’s just a warning. A … general warning. Not a warning warning.

A suggestion.

Also, did I mention that this weekend is Purim?

Purim! I’m going as a pirate. Probably.

And today I will be baking my blog-famous hamentaschen (this post from a year ago might be the funniest thing that I’ve ever written, thanks to that jerk Stu).

You can make them too if you want. Last year a bunch of people did and it was highly entertaining.

And because those Gigantic Awakening Life-Changing Epiphanies … they kind of aren’t the point.

It’s not that these extraordinary oh boy I’ve been wrong about everything I’ve ever thought moments of bing and zing don’t happen.

Because they do.

It’s just more that the big crazy ones ultimately aren’t as important as the growing/coagulating/piling-on-top-of-each other pull of tiny little insights and the delicate synaptic clicks of mini-understandings.

I’ll take that one step further.

It is the accumulation of these little bits of understanding happening on different levels — these microscopic physical-mental-emotional connections — that elicits the Big Ones.

You work up to the big understandings as the little ones start snowballing and interacting with each other.

One rainy Portland morning* Selma and Havi decided to take the day off.

* It might possibly have been a Toozday.

It was all Selma’s decision since Havi wasn’t willing to talk about it.

Havi didn’t want to get out of bed. Havi didn’t want to be cheered up. Havi didn’t want to discuss options.