So. We’ve been given an extra day.


Or maybe it’s more like this:

You can, if you feel drawn to try this, imagine or pretend or choose to believe that you’ve been given an extra day.

Why not? You could try that on. As an experiment. An internal investigation.

What could you do with an extra day?

Especially if this day was secretly a door.

Or an opening.

You could have a tiny adventure.

Possibly by proxy.

You could discover something new about how you approach the world.

You could give a small chunk of time to getting to know more about a mysterious project or the germ of a tiny sweet thing.

You could rewrite a pattern or an internal belief.

Just a little. Just to find out what it’s like.

And you wouldn’t have to change very much.

One word. One piece. Maybe two.

What if this is the day when you find out what you are like when your system is running a new string of internal programming?

Like this.

A word that’s been coming up a lot in the comments and at Rally recently is “achievable”. As in:

Thing X, that I desire, is not achievable.

That sentence may be true in this moment. And it also serves to both reflect and reinforce an internal rule.

So what if we altered — just for a day — one piece of that rule?

If we decide that we’re not going to do away with the rule altogether but just play with it a little, how about one of these?

Stop at the one that has the least resistance for you but still gives you pause.

That’s usually a good place to enter any practice.

  • “This thing I desire is not achievable yet.”
  • “This thing I desire does not appear to be achievable yet.”
  • “I am not yet clear on how this thing I desire could come into my life.”
  • “I am allowed to desire this thing I desire, and there is probably something important in this for me. The essence of that desire could be achievable, and I can find out how.”
  • “Even though I haven’t figured out yet how this thing I desire can become achievable, there could still be a way that I don’t know about yet.”
  • “Even though it appears that I have lots of internal rules about how things can happen, I am learning about the sense of safety and security that my rules give me, and I am getting curious about other ways that I can give myself safety and security.”
  • “I do not know what is achievable, but I can still plant wishes and learn about the part of me who sees possibility as well as the part of me who is invested in not having this.”

And then find out what happens.

Who is the version of you who doesn’t have that hard and fast rule about what is achievable. How do you even define [+achievable]?

What happens to you when you interact with internal structures and forms, and make space for you to learn about what’s possible?

In my experience, even tiny shifts in approach can lead to astonishing things. And that’s as good an experiment as any for an extra day.

It doesn’t matter what you try. The point is that we play.

We’re making room to find out.

This is the work of self-fluency. This is interior interior design. Very, very interior.

It’s a day of leaps.

Of course you don’t ever have to take a leap, because there are always less scary ways to create change. No leaping required.

But if we think about the leap as a gap or an entry, the leap becomes a portal. A chance. Maybe even a fairy door.

I will see you on the other side.

Play with me! The commenting blanket fort.

Let’s plant some gwishes for the Day of Leap. You can also silent retreat if you like.

I’m going to try to think of one thing I might do/think/try differently. And you’re welcome to do the same, or make fun experimental plans for leap-worthy things.

Usual comment zen applies. We all have our stuff. We’re all working on our stuff. It’s a process. We play. We make room for each other. We are patient and present.

Love, as always, to the commenter mice, the Beloved Lurkers and everyone who reads.

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