Okay. It’s getting to be slightly absurd the way I have been disclaimerizing all my posts this week.
So this one? Also not really a post. Whatever that means.
More of a … oh, let’s call it a summing up.
This week of teaching at Jen Louden’s life-changingly great Laughing Crying Writer’s Retreat in Taos has been so full of fantastic.
And there are all these bits and pieces I want to talk about with you! Will try to throw as much as possible into the Chicken tomorrow.
But maybe just a couple things for now. A smart thing, a happy thing, a ridiculous thing and a word.
A smart thing!
Remember in the Very Personal Ad Sunday when I decided to not work on the book but instead on my relationship to the book?
So. This turned out to accidentally be the most genius thing in the entire world.
So much freedom, so much permission, so much playful silliness! And no struggling, because there was always stuff I wanted to write about:
What I know about hanging out with Writer Me. Getting Metaphor Mouse to rewrite some problem concepts. Interacting with my monsters and my various stuckified patterns related to being someone who writes.
The results were huge. Not only did I destuckify like mad, I was able to thoroughly document everything I do when I work on my own stuff.
As I untangled my own patterns, a ton of the techniques that I use with my clients and in workshops got … written down. Which is what would have happened had I actually worked on the book, only it would have been way more tortured and agonizing.
So the choice to process the process instead of doing the process made room for all sorts of brilliant things to happen.
Sneakified mouse = me! Oh boy!
Also, the shivanautical moments of bing are coming so fast and with such intensity that it’s really all I can do document them before the next flood begins. So much for my fear of not knowing what I want to say.
A happy thing!
I spent a lot of time this week trying to discover (or remember) the word that describes the flavor of happy that I have been experiencing.
The word for that … teary welling-up. When you’re so ___________ to be alive and be here and be now that you could kiss every pebble and gaze adoringly at your own fingers and how wonderful they are.
It has gratitude in it, yes, but that’s not really the whole of it.
Bliss is close, but bliss has sadly gone in the direction of “I followed my bliss and became a therapist” or whatever, so it’s lost that essence.
That thing! That tingling, joyful thrum of anticipation and wonder.
I’ve decided to call it ELATION.
That is the closest. And it has been a very long time since I’ve felt this sensation for more than odd moments. Significant chunks of this week have been spent in a state of ELATION.
Grounded and centered and conscious. Not giddy. Not high. Not buzzing. Just a deep, rich I AM HERE AND I LOVE YOU, MOUNTAINS that I have not felt in so long.
Obviously a lot of this is from all the Shiva Nata and the hot buttered epiphanies and the Old Turkish Lady yoga and the writing writing writing writing. And some of it comes from the green chiles.
But this …. ELATION. Oh, it is a beautiful and hard-to-explain place to visit.
A ridiculous thing!
I couldn’t get much cell reception this week (and the writing was tugging at my hand), so I didn’t get to talk to my gentleman friend. We mostly communicated by Direct Message on Twitter in the form of a ridiculous game that made itself up for our amusement.
I don’t know if this could possibly be funny to anyone other than me (it’s based on his knowledge of my bordering-on-phobic dislike of the word “caulk”). But it ended up being a useful Retreat Survival Tactic.
My Gentleman Friend: So I won’t mention the upcoming caulking project.
Me: Ew. Gross. What’s WRONG with you? I baulk at your caulk.
MGF: Well, don’t just sit there and saulk! #jonas
Me: Don’t forget to deal with those celery staulks.
Also those seagull waves in your hair are just a bit flaukish. #80s
MGF: Now you’re just maulking me. In a sort of insincerely maudlin way! #mawkish
Me: Also, you’re INCREDIBLE. Like the Haulk. #hawkish
MGF: Wagnerian, even. #rideoftheVaulkeries
Me: You might have to take a short Waulkeries off a long pier if you keep that up. But if you paint, wear your Smaulkeries! #butnotdungarees
Me: Or are you thinking of the Thirteen Claulkeries #thurber
MGF: You’re close – I was actually thinking of the children’s rhyme. Hickery Dickery Daulkeries.
Me: And please no references to New Kids on the Blaulkeries. #shazam
MGF: In that case, how about references to Columbo, a disputed island near Argentina & a British holiday involving flames & fireworks? #shazoom
Me: Yooooooooouuuuuu! I should claulk you. Or maybe blaulk you — on Twitter.
MGF: I’m just going to waulk away, veeeery slowly now. Or perhaps we should taulk it over?
Me: Yes, you’d better give up completely. Laulk staulk and barrel!
MGF: Laulk. Now THAT is gross.
Me: You’re hilarious. But not really one to taulk. By the way … knaulk knaulk! …
MGF: Who’s there? (he asks trepidatiously)
MGF: Ach Du scheisse! #doctorhulu
Me: No. You’re wrong. It’s Doctor Spaulk.
MGF: Ha! Hmm. I was always more of a Mr. Spaulk guy, myself. #ears
Me: What a craulk.
Me: Well, chaulk it up to experience.
MGF: Don’t raulk the boat, I always say. #seewhatyouvedone
Me: Don’t knaulk it til you try it, I always say. Though I ALSO always say: avoid electric shaulk.
Anyway, it just deteriorated (or should I say: ran amaulk?) from there so I’ll stop. Yes.
The best word ever!
The word is WACKOPANTS, courtesy of the lovely Christina, who lives it. I will now be saying this all the time.
Mainly because I over-identify with it, being a huge wackopants myself.
That’s it for now.
Tomorrow we will chicken it up and there will be more.
In the meantime, I wish you a day that includes elements of ridiculousness, contemplation, and at least a couple of thoroughly wackopants moments — maybe even some that lead you to a bing or a thrum or that elusive thing that I’m calling elation.