Where I cover the good and the hard in my week, visiting the non-preachy side of ritual and self-reflection.
And you get to join in if you feel like it.
But man, when you commit to it.
Relinquishing an old idea of what “right” looks like.
I was trying to make a mission happen, and my contact (Agent Stan of Stanistan) was not playing ball.
It kept not working, and I kept trying because I was convinced that this particular agent was crucial to the mission, and then eventually I realized: wait, this is stupid and not fun.
So I asked for the new just-right agent to be my contact for this mission, and I found her and it was easy. And her name is Bee, which is the best name in the world, and she was even more helpful than Stan of the Stans had ever been.
Letting Bond Girl say when.
Unapologetically following instinct.
Even when there was monster-fear about ” oh no what will people think”.
I got to 442 and it was wrong, and I left, and this was right. Like that.
Next time I might…
- Stay connected to the essence of the mission, not the form.
- More entry time.
- Ask our man in Marin for help.
- More time for Putterday.
The mysteries. Things I found challenging (and mysterious!).
- Havi Bell, known Highly Sensitive Person, should never be in a sports bar playing multiple games on multiple screens all at full volume. This is a high-anxiety experience for her .
- The thing I wanted to play with this week did not get played with. This is probably good, but I was attached to a timeline that past-me had set up, forgetting that past-me did not have as much information as I do right now.
- A perfect storm of no lunch plus late class plus change of plans plus canceled plans results in: All The Stuff At Once. Too far gone to formulate a Plan B. Frustration of “wait, I followed the plan and it didn’t work!”
- Two outrageously unsovereign relationships that need to end. Not having the words for this. Guilt about disappearing on people who think they need me.
- Someone who does not know about [my friend who is dead] and how much of a wreck I am about this, still, talking to me about how he doesn’t see the point of being alive. And I kind of lost it.
- People I care about: deep in the distortions. Not seeing the love, even though it is everywhere.
- Head full of thinky-thoughts.
- Formerly-favorite-dance-instructor has gone all motivational, and I can’t stand it. I do not need or want to be motivated. I just want to dance.
- Speaking of distortions. Hello, old friend Pronoun Is Just Not That Into You. I remember you.
- Tuesday night. Being awake from 1am.
- The spell is broken. The spell was so much fun! And suddenly it is over, which is probably good because I don’t think I wanted to be under a spell. But it was amazing, and I miss it.
- Ugh why the terrible goodbyes? Why can’t they either say the thing or just disappear in that crucial moment of DOORWAY and ENDING. Anything but this “well, have a nice weekend” awkward non-endings. I had pain.
- Again it is spring and I do not have the spring things. Monsters are very loud about this.
- Ludicrous Fear Popcorn about being a hostess who isn’t providing well for her guests.
- People are in their stuff and so unknowledgeable about the fact that it is their stuff, yes.
Things I found delightful.
- Friday night.
- GNR somehow miraculously beating the Betties. Despite falling apart after the first ten minutes and being down by 80+ points and oh all is lost. I was just hoping we could close the gap and lose by less-than-fifty. BUT WE WON! By three points! In six years of crazed fandom, I have never seen my Guns N Rollers beat the Betties. It happened once in scrimmage but never in a bout.
- Miracles, miracles.
- An entirely new level of passionate presence.
- The bout demanded zebra tights, and zebra tights make everything better.
- A life-changing moment of surprousal (translation: “I didn’t realize Unlikely Thing was a turn-on for me but actually ohmygod, yes!”). New information.
- Channeling the Bond Girl superpowers of Extreme Confidence and Anything Is Possible, and having impossibly great things happen as a result.
- The Seder. It was beautiful and fun and sweet, and everything I wanted/needed.
- Two whole days of being Bond Girl.
- Following instinct lead me to the fountain which lead me to the rainbow which lead me to the clue which lead me to the healing. This was big.
- Letting things be right. This is Right.
- Running away from 442 and ending up at the Back Stage Bar for the US-Mexico match, which was the best place to watch it.
- Warm day in the sun, spent napping in the garden.
- Agent A, our man in Marin, helped me solve a conundrum.
- Marisa was visiting and now Svevo is visiting, and I am happy.
- Bee! Bee!
- Vicarage II. I now know when this is happening.
- Remember my wish about the Orchard of the Annes? Favorite person ever might come with me!
- Thanks to instinct plus miracles plus Bond Girl, I now have the most gorgeous pair of boots, at 60% off.
- Fantastic results from the Bitchy Boozy Secret Spy coaching day that I taught under-the-radar and with tricksiness.
- I did a thing that I never have to do again.
- Napping date. Napping. Date. NAPPING DATE!
- I kind of don’t want to mention this because of monster-fear about jinxing it, but I have had the most flawless skin ever for the past three weeks, and this is incredibly exciting.
- Making the call. I made the call. Not that kind of call. The other kind of call.
- Fearlessness. Not something I ever expected to experience, to be honest. But there it was.
WHAM BOOM! Operations completed this week:
The phrase Whoosh Ha Mastodon Boom is secret agent code that means: this op is done, baby! It is often shortened to WHAM boom.
Operation Rewrite the Protocols Wham boom!
Operation Fractal Flowers Wham boom!
Operation Set It Up Set It Up Wham boom!
What if Stan is not the agent?! Wham boom!
Whoosh Ha Mastodon Boom! Wham Boom! Wham Boom!
You may also shout (or whisper) other joyous words if you like.
A superpower I had this week…
Releasing attachment to outcome.
And a superpower I want next week.
Being the fountain.
Proxy of the week.
Starboard, not port.
Typos of the week, freudian or otherwise.
Love you, autocorrect. You speak a creepy truth.
- Song me to sleep!
Salve of the week. Yours if you want it.
This salve invisibly softens emotional (and all forms of) scar tissue and rebuilds it as something new: a radiant protective boundary that knows about newness.
It gives you that “everything is better now” feeling, a little bit like when you give a kindergartener a bandaid that looks like balloons.
These salves can’t be seen, but the production factory has delivered enough to me to distribute by way of the magic of the internet, so help yourself. There is enough.
Playing live at the meme beach house — the Fake Band of the Week!
Ambivalent French Clown.
They sound kind of like you’d expect. And of course, it’s just one guy.
Thank you, Richard.
Hallo Hallo! I am saying Hallo Hallo. Announcement time.
Picture me wearing that crazy hat…
Announcements coming soon.
In the meantime, I’ll say it again. The Monster Manual & Coloring Book. I live by this, and it’s why the mysteries and challenges of the week don’t get me down.
That’s it for me …
Join my Friday ritual in the comments if you feel like it. Or call silent retreat!
We let people have their own experience. We’re supportive and welcoming. And we don’t give advice (unless people specifically ask for it).
Wishing you a glorrrrrrrrrrrrious day, a restful weekend and a happy week to come.
p.s. It’s fine if it’s not Friday anymore. There’s complete chicken amnesty — join in whenever (or not) and it’s no big deal.