My commitment.

To do Shiva Nata on this and see what comes up.

To plan a wishing party.

To talk to whatever fuzzy monsters show up and want love and attention.

(Already noticing the “what the hell kind of greedy person wants more good things?!” and the “you should be more grateful” monsters, so I can definitely have a chat with them to find out what would help them feel more safe with this.)

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?

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.

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.
Even when the asking thing feels weird and conflicted.
Ever since I posted the first one asking my perfect house to find me, which [...]

In the Gadget Room.

Me: Uh. Okay. Tell me about the gadget room.
Hurry: It’s where the gadgets are!
Me: Is it like the boiler room? Or the belly of a steam ship?
Hurry: Yes! Only it’s full of toys!

Me: I still don’t get it?
Hurry: Remember in nursery school when we used to play house?
Me: Uh huh.
Hurry: It’s like that but with gadgets! And measuring things! And speediness!

Me: That sounds really great. I think you should do that.
Hurry: And I get to wear a conductor’s cap and coveralls and everyone waves at me.
Me: Of course they do.
Hurry: This is the best job ever! I have to go play now. Excuse me.

Well, it’s showing up for something that has already been prepared, instead of doing the preparing.

Like being an audience member? Like being taken to your special box at the opera house before Groucho Marx causes chaos and pandemonium? Oh my lord. Do I need a lorgnette?

Or maybe it’s getting to be the diva super star … red carpets and the like.

No. That’s no fun. For me, at least. But I wouldn’t object to being an early ’30s film star traveling on a ship.

With my traveling secretary.

Or at least some companion to carry the hat boxes and find my cabin and fetch my drinks and fend off my admirers with a parasol.

Yes, a lovely Atlantic crossing in good weather with plenty of time on my hands. That sounds like the way to travel.

Adventuring! But in style.

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.