It feels a bit early, a bit raw really, to do any kind of review/revue of this incredibly hard and challengingyear just yet.

But I am feeling a strong need to PASSAGE, really and truly. Tonight. I am ready to cross through.

So in the interest of making this day a door, I will skip some stones with love.

What do I want to remember about 2012?

That I made it.

Not: “made it” in terms of success or (blah) goals. And not in terms of survival: not not-making it.

More that I made my way to the end of it with grace. That I was able to go through the hardest year of my life with presence, and sometimes even with laughter and vitality. I made it through. I crossed the hardest crossings.

I am here. And not just still-standing. Fully here. Appreciative. Even with all that happened.

What was hard about 2012?

Most of this has to be [silent retreat-ed] for a variety of reasons.


  • The crashing and burning of a long-standing and important relationship.
  • Insomnia.
  • The loss of four special friendships.
  • The loss of nearly ALL of my staff.
  • Nearly losing [X].
  • Heartbreak after heartbreak after heartbreak.
  • Long-lost stones (people) returning only to leave again, in the worst way possible.
  • Thinking Stompopolis would open in April but then opening it turned into the most complicated and layered mission imaginable.
  • The worst piece of news.
  • The greatest misunderstanding.
  • Discovering that person I thought was my most ardent champion — the person I thought believed in me more than anyone in the world, is not that person at all.
  • The loss of the [thing that sustains me]. Not the thing itself but my relationship with it, my work, dreams and visions.
  • All the barns burning.
  • Fear. Pain. Anger. Hurt. Sadness. Loss. Grief.

Thanks for the teachings, 2012. And I never want to learn anything in such a hard and painful way again.

But/and! Look at where I’m at…

Appreciative and grateful. Having deeply processed all of these things. Being okay with them and with where I’m at with them.

  • This is the year I rediscovered a lost part of me and reintegrated her.
  • This is the year that I became Havi Bell.
  • This is the year of receiving directives. And finally being able to listen. To follow through.
  • This is the year that I stopped neglecting myself.
  • This is the year that I put my attention to empyting and replenishing as a way of being.
  • This is the year that I stopped working myself to death and started working lovingly. An hour or two at a time. Sure, it happened because all my attention had to go to not falling apart. But I learned to work in healthy ways, in creative, fun Rally ways, as a way of being all the time.
  • This is the year that I learned that my worst fear isn’t all that bad, because now is not then, and I’m better equipped to handle it now.
  • This is the year of having the right playmate for the right kinds of play.
  • This is the year of the costumes and the bells and the delight.

These are also teachings. So thanks you, 2012, for these things that were delivered in sweetness.

What bits wisdom do I want to keep from 2012?

Stones go and return. And then they return again. Nothing that is truly mine can be lost. And the things that have come back are better than what I mourned losing.

The thing I fear cannot hurt me. The only thing that can hurt me is disconnecting from myself and not taking care of myself.

Even in the hardest of the hard, I was able to trust and give. To dissolve and radiate, to look for the clews.

Some things take as long as they take. And there is nothing wrong with this. Nothing is behind. You aren’t doing anything wrong, Havi.

Allies are everywhere.

Sometimes the purpose of a stone is not to be your stone, other than in that moment. It is to move you from one part of the river to another part. Such is the way of stones.

Many different costumes for many different things. Not one costume for everything. Same goes for identities or aspects of identity. Things can co-exist.

Be a bell. Ring anything you want to ring. Turn any room or building into a bell, and be a bell inside the bell.

Conducting always works.

All you need is an 8 Letter Word.

Being a spy is more fun than not being a spy.

I am done with so very many things. And that is okay.

Some of the best superpowers of 2012:

The superpower of singing the songs of the barns burning.

The superpower of remembering that six months from now I’m probably going to be relieved about the thing I’m currently hating. I can skip that part by finding the good.

The superpower of de-cobwebbing.

The superpower of not all progress is linear.

The superpower of turning anything into a compass.

The superpower of pre-emptive congruencing: doing away now with the thing that is going to be disharmonious or incongruent in a while.

What beautiful memories do I want to hold from 2012?

Being a gazelle.

Cannery pier.

The stairway in the Elliot. A beautiful apple from a bowl.

The time I fell and thought it was the worst thing and actually it was the best thing.

Beach day.

August 3rd.

Long lazy weekends with my playmate, having all the words.

Slow sweet yoga in Hoppy House, in the park, at the Playground, in the Director’s Room while on Chrysalis.

The best sandwich in the world, and the best temporary companion for eating the best sandwich in the world. Hilariously, that one is not a metaphor. Actual sandwich.


Singing in Stompopolis. Singing to Stompopolis.

Rallies and the Crossing.

What worked? Things I’m bringing with me into the new year from the old one:

Beach day and Fake Beach day.


Solstice and Equinox.

Slightly Sexy Ounce Dice Trice.

Next time I might…

Choose to hire people who are not in my circle of friends. That way, if they need to leave and/or stop speaking to me, I won’t make it about me. It wasn’t about me anyway, but it took me way too long (and twice!) this year to figure this out.

Remember that stones return.

Remember that the thing that seems like bad news is not bad news, and that I can investigate that.

Pause first. Paws! And then pause some more.

Goodbye, 2012.

This year I learned about upheaval, destruction, and everything falling down. And I also learned that I was safe and held the entire time, even when it was hard to see and feel. Sometimes it was really hard to see and feel.

I cried out my body weight in tears, over and over again. And I laughed. Bitterly at first, and then that life-laugh of I am here.

Let’s have today mark being done with this old way of learning. Let’s have the new transitions be sweet and (thank you, Max!) wonderfully mild.

May 2013 be radiant and, most of all, may it be peaceful.

And may I be able to learn things this year without traversing such stormy seas. May I meet everything that comes in with steadiness and presence. With ringing bells.

Play with me.

I am open to:

Playing along (in any form you like), hand-on-heart sighs, smiles, warm wishes for sweetness and delight in the new year. Any of the above.

Or anything sparked for you. Or things you want to drop into the fountain about your own year.

As always, we don’t give each other unsolicited advice here. Just love.