Oh, there are so many things I’d put in there.

But just a few, off the top of my head, while I’m narrowing things down.

Starting with seven questions. I even answered them so you don’t have to. See? Nicest test ever.

And I tried to be as succinct as possible, which we all know is not exactly my strength. Brevity points for me. And bathtime and bourbon for Selma.

There is the why that is about self-inquiry.

It is inquisitive. It expresses genuine curiosity.

“Huh. I wonder what elements combined to get me here.”

Then there’s the why that is really asking why the hell am I like this and not the way I want to be already?!?

Not yet. Not like this.

I’m going to need the Schmoppet. And possibly some monsters. And a feather boa. And a duck.

But in the meantime, while I hunt around for the damn video camera … I will say this:

Play is the missing ingredient. The secret sauce. That thing that makes everything else easier.

Amnesty doesn’t mean not taking responsibility.

It’s not a get-out-of-responsibility pass.

It’s a get-out-of-stuckness pass, which is totally different.

We still own what’s ours. We still have to stop and say, “Wow. My stuff is coming up. And it’s mine. And I’m still working on that.”

But we do get to put down the heaviness, the guilt, the unending wondering if we’re doing it wrong.

Today I stumbled into an absolutely massive pile of iguanas.

If you are not familiar with the iguanas, I’m referring to the Inowanna variety: those things you just don’t feel like doing.

Today’s iguanas are all at least tangentially related to Shiva Nata, the brain-training practice that has altered pretty much everything in my life for the better.

My friend Michael has this theory.

It’s been at least a decade since he explained it to me so there’s pretty much no way I can do justice to either its twisted brilliance or hilarity, but the basic idea is this:

Sometimes we fall out of synch with the world. Or with ourselves. Or both.

I imagine it starts with a sort of grinding sound. There you are. Out of alignment. And then everything stops working.

MonsterMash: It’s been almost a MONTH without a post, so clearly she’s profoundly and irreparably broken. Clearly she was never cut out for this writing thing. Clearly she’ll never be able to post again. Clearly –

Havi: Clearly you’re feeling really upset and anxious and worried, because you need to know that Susannah is going to be okay.

MonsterMash: Yes but how is she going to be okay when clearly she is such a mess and it’s been a month and there is NO LIGHT at the end of this tunnel!

The video game technique is a classic destuckification tool because:

• it’s about awareness — being conscious of how you’re relating to yourself and the world around you.
• it’s about acknowledgment — letting the hard stuff be hard without being impressed by the hard or thinking that the hard defines you.
• it’s about possibility — taking information and making conscious choices.
• it’s about patterns — recognizing how things fit together and intentionally mixing things up.
• it’s about flow — moving away from things that result in paralysis, and reconfiguring.
• it’s about sovereignty — owning your space and making decisions about what you do with it.

It gives you flexibility, agility, adaptability, grace and all sorts of other useful things. And most of all, it shows you options.

Confidential to CB.

And everyone else who hit a wall with yesterday’s post, or whose monsters are using this concept of the middle to make you feel bad about yourself.

You’re not in the middle, sweetpea. The middle is where we are when we choose not to consciously engage with our stuff.

If you’re asking yourself questions about your relationship to the middle, that’s conscious engagement. Which is already a very advanced practice.

And the thing is: consciously interacting with ourselves and our stuff is hard. And you are brave and wonderful for being in it. That is all.

The middle.

If you caught a glimpse of us after class, red-cheeked, sweat-stained and blissful, you’d have no idea which of us were the advanced students and which the beginners.

But you could always tell when people in the middle were there.

They weren’t sweating, for one thing. Because it wasn’t hard for them.

Also, they were complaining. About how it wasn’t hard. Also about how boring it was.

There wasn’t a challenge. But only because no one gave them a challenge.