In which I cover the good stuff and the hard stuff in my week, trying for the non-preachy, non-annoying side of ritual and self-reflection.
And you get to join in if you feel like it.
Two hundred and eleven weeks in a row of writing a Chicken to close out the week.
And now two weeks in a row that I’m sitting in the Hypothalamus (my new/new-ish office) to post it.
Hi. Friday. Chicken. Let’s do this.
The hard stuff
Huge PTSD trigger Saturday night.
I was walking home from the street fair and there were fast running accelerated footsteps behind me, and then I spiraled into the dark places.
Luckily for me, this person did not have bad intentions, despite several creepy and clueless things they did to indicate otherwise. And luckily for this person, I did not break a bottle over their head, though I was ready to. Understatement.
Then it took many, many, many hours to get my grounding back.
More on PTSD from the blog.
Too much social.
I usually know to stay away from people, but this week there were lots of great people, and so that was hard.
And once I reach that state of overcooked, it takes a lot of time to come back to a baseline of force-fields-are-in-order.
I fell apart on Friday too!
This time, work-related.
Luckily Marisa was there to comfort me.
That part was lovely. The overwhelmed, overworked, hormonal chaos, generally getting lost in all the scripts of hopelessness and helplessness was not fun.
On the other hand, having a friend to lovingly stroke your hair and bring you juice and say all the right things….that is a very big deal.
Still: overwhelm. The worst.
The awful, awful piece of news.
I received a terrible piece of news this week that I cannot and do not wish to talk about.
So I’m not going to talk about it.
But it shook me up. Very, very much.
And that was a big shadow over everything else this week. Lots of taking time out to interact with old fear, and stuff from then, and the real-life repercussions of right now.
Oh please, miracles. Show up. Now is the time.
Now is the time. Now is the time. Now is the time.
Trying to maintain receptivity and look for the hidden openings.
I will resolve this, but I do not yet know how. Trust and faith were a big deal this week, and it was hard.
It was something like 104 degrees Fahrenheit in Portland yesterday.
That is not okay.
The good stuff
I bounced it out this week, and that made everything better.
Social was fun!
On Saturday I spent four hours with my playmate, two hours with Rebecca, and the rest of the day with Marisa, Ben and Chris.
There was fascinating conversation, delighted laughter and joyful singing for Stompopolis.
Plus I got to show Stompopolis to people who know nothing about it, and they got it.
Another thing: Chris gave me a clew, which was important.
And I didn’t fall apart during the day even though spending a day with people is really hard for me.
Incoming me is the best.
She had amazing ideas all week.
So much shivanautical play. So many gigantic epiphanies and mini-sparks of goodness.
And suddenly remembering quietly forgotten things that turned out to be incredibly useful and important.
Playdate. It is changing, and this is fascinating.
Everything changes. But. Playdating has been shifting and morphing in interesting ways.
Last week the fun of playdating was the ALL THE TIME of it. Let’s have a playdate and another playdate and then another one.
This week it was more like the Playdating was the regular way of being, and everything else I did was a break from playdating.
Related to this: I feel happy and peaceful and delighted.
This week had lots of things that were pleasurable.
Affection and loving sweetness and excitement and moments that were big moments.
This week had people I care about.
Especially Marisa who was here to hold my hand and pet me.
Mojo. It is back.
Mojo came back, business-wise.
Like being a brilliant inspired business genius again who is a smart risk-taker and yes, okay, currently doing a crazy, yes, this is true, but it’s a FUN CRAZY!
I can do this. That was exciting. I needed that. Because it’s been a long, hard year of hard with opening Stompopolis.
Ohmygod. Beach day.
This one was important. Big things happened.
A big chunk of my sadness is gone.
I walked across the saddest bridge and did not think about how it is the saddest bridge.
I walked by the place and it was no longer the saddest place.
Things are moving and changing. This is big.
Progress. Finally. Sweet loving help — and perspective! — and general adoration from my playmate. Then took that to a day of work-play-partnering with Marisa.
Marisa is the director of Math Camp. I am the director of the Playground.
Between the two of us we know more than just about anyone when it comes to CULTURE and cultivating/creating/distilling culture and explaining that.
So we were able to put our skill sets together and do miraculous things.
She threw together a terrific draft of the Plumlet, which I love.
I came up with new systems.
Huge progress in general!
Wednesday! And Thursday!
Huge amazing magic happened at Stompopolis!
We played! We sorted things out!
We finalized the packages and pricing and everything there is to know about how we are running this like a speakeasy and not a gym, and how many member mice we can have playing there and all the things!
And we wrote an On A Mission From God statement (not a theistic one, that’s a Blues Brothers reference, obviously, we’re putting the band back together!).
“We’re putting the band back together.”
“Forget it. No way.”
“We’re on a mission from God.”
Anyway. It’s basically like a mission statement. But more fun.
We wrote one for Stompopolis, for the vision, for me, for the Pirate Crew and for the Noodler who is in charge of crew.
And we tracked all the things that need to happen in the Very Stuck System.
And we made progress on the Grand Refueling Station (formerly the Nap Room).
The point is ALL OF THIS IS GOOD, and we are closer than ever!
I AM FEELING HOPEFUL!
This is such a big deal. All caps forever!
You guys! You guys! It’s happening.
A better piece of news. And a return.
Someone close to me who unexpectedly dropped out of my life several months ago mysteriously showed up again this week.
And said pretty much word-for-word the exact thing I’d been wishing they would say, but did not actually believe would ever happen.
So that was beautiful and perfect, and just a few hours after I made a wish about that.
Tiny hopeful yay.
The fun part of the Chickening happens here.
Tabstravaganza! Or: what’s Havi been up to with all those open Firefox tabs?
- I got to this video from Claire! It’s beautiful. A tribute from Gotye to the people who cover his song, and linking to their videos. Neat.
- Like so many things, I got to this via my Second Favorite Nick. This video of Julia Childs is my new favorite thing. Possibly ever.
Playing live at the meme beach house — it’s the Fake Band of the Week!
Background? Ez and I make up bands. Stu (retired Bolshevik-fearing voice-to-text software) once translated “people will hate me and be jealous” to “they’ll hang out at my Meme Beach House“. It’s just one guy.
This week’s band comes to you via my brilliant Marisa:
Baptism by Sandwiches
They’re loud and soft and everything good.
Though, of course, it’s really just one guy.
Hallo Hallo! I am saying Hallo Hallo. Announcement time.
Picture me wearing that crazy hat…
Okay. If you have been thinking about getting something from the shop, here’s your heads up.
You might want to do that now.
Because things are about to get shaken up a little once Stompopolis opens to the public. There will be reconfigurings. Now is a good time to get stuff. Is what I will say for the present.
More to come. But for now: if you want a thing, definitely get it.
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.