What we do here:

Work on our stuff. Dissolve stuck. Play. Experiment. Rewrite patterns. We take sometimes-heavy things* and we make them more fun, playful, manageable.

I also write about my conversations with walls and monsters, and what it's like to work on a pirate ship. Good times.

* Sometimes-heavy things include: mindfulness and presence, pain and trauma, business-growing, that problematic word which rhymes with flaweductivity

 

Friday Chicken #310: a richness of quiet

Friday chicken

Where I cover the good and the hard in my week, visiting the non-preachy side of ritual and self-reflection.

It is Friday and we are here.

{a breath for Friday}

I am at the Vicarage, where I have removed myself from everything for two weeks so that I can get even quieter than I usually am. There is a richness of quiet that I crave right now, and this is the place where I can sink into silence.

And since I am currently engaged in this deeper-quiet, this Chicken will be an abbreviated one. I hope you can feel some of the quiet coming through, as well as the wonderful superpowers of quieting.

What worked this week?

Removing myself from everything.

I keep looking at this sentence and shaking my head at the wisdom of what I did for myself.

Next time I might…

Do this sooner.

The plan to run away to the Vicarage happened super last-minute.

While I was going through my “how to run away to the Vicarage” protocol, I found a note from Last Year Me who said:

My love, please don’t wait to do this until you are at an edge. Don’t wait until you can’t see straight to pause and recalibrate. Do this before you think you need it. And, most importantly, don’t wait until after you need it.

So. I didn’t wait until after I needed it. That part is good. And I also knew six weeks ago that the need was on the way, and tried to ignore that information. Next time. Progress.

Thank you, last-year me. Thank you, last-week me. Thank you, incoming me who has figured out this whole “taking care of myself” thing.

Eight breaths for the hard, challenging and mysterious.

  1. Loss. A breath for comfort.
  2. Need. A breath for trust.
  3. The well of sadness. A breath for release.
  4. Goodbyes. A breath for newness.
  5. Isolation. A breath for knowing I am not alone.
  6. Wistful wishing for something that is not to be, or not to be right now. A breath for allowing desires to be legitimate.
  7. Everything unresolved. A breath for passage.
  8. Inhale, exhale. Goodbye, mysteries and hard moments of this week.

Eight breaths of good, reassuring, delight-filled.

  1. I am here. A breath for safety and protection.
  2. I have given this time to myself. A breath for treasure and for treasuring myself.
  3. Nothing is wrong. All timing is right timing. A breath for remembering truth.
  4. Sky. Water. A breath for peacefulness.
  5. I have words. A breath for appreciating who I am.
  6. Remembering that I am radiantly beautiful. It is astonishing how often I forget this, most of the time. A breath for rediscovering.
  7. When I have this kind of quiet, I am amazed at what I know. A breath for the sea of wisdom.
  8. Appreciation and thankfulness. Thank you, Alon for naming Operation Kaleidoscope. Thank you, Richard for being the best possible friend I could ask for. Thank you, miracles. Thank you, fruit. Thank you, blue towel. Thank you, lovely surprises. Nothing is wrong. Now is not then. So many things are good. A breath for deep appreciation in my thank-you heart.

WHAM BOOM! Operations completed.

The phrase Whoosh Ha Mastodon Boom is secret agent code that means: this thing is done! It is often shortened to wham-boom. You may also shout (or whisper) other joyous words if you like.

The best part of Operation Kaleidoscope is that I don’t have to do anything except take care of myself, and this is the best op in the entire world, and the monsters don’t even get to complain about me wham-booming this. Wham Boom.

Superpowers!

Powers I had this week…

The power of remembering how beautiful I am.

Superpowers I want.

Same as last time: the power of knowing, deeply, that every moment is treasure.

Salve. The Salve of Quieting.

It’s the Vicarage salve. When you rub this into your skin, it’s a bit like sinking into a warm pool. Or putting on noise-canceling headphones.

It’s this moment of AHHHHHHHHHHH DEEP EXHALE.

The hum-rattle-thrum of life’s buzziness just stops. There is you and your breath and sweet contentment. As if someone just turned off the vacuum cleaner in the background. As if the tap drip finally stopped. As if you had no idea how many things in the background (mental, physical, emotional) were causing interference until suddenly they all disappeared.

You relax into it, and then more, and then more. You set something down and then you set more things down, and then you remember words like tranquility and calm, and they are suddenly real.

These salves can’t be seen, but the production factory delivers enough for distribution by way of the magic of the internet, so help yourself. There is enough.

If salve does not appeal, you can have this in tea form, as a bath, cocktail, whatever works for you. Not only is there enough salve, there are also enough ways to receive it.

Playing live at the meme beach house — the Fake Band of the Week!

My brother and I make up bands, which are all just one guy. The Meme Beach House is the venue.

This band is from Marisa and they’re called Weird Hyper Electric Confusion, they play Irish trance music and it’s just one guy.

Attenzione! Attention, AGENTS.

I spend a lot of time saying “ohmygod I want to go somewhere and WRITE, I want to go on a writing retreat” and then I never do that because of the part where hahaha I’d probably have to sit around with Writers and talk about what I’m writing.

And then I realized I could invent my own that would be exactly what I want. Price super low because I need to leave town for a couple of weeks. It is called a Righting Retreat.

Partly because that sounds less intimidating (to me), and partly because it is true. We will Right things.

Come read the page because 1) I swear a lot, 2) I make a pun that is also truth, 3) there is a cloud that makes me smile, 4) I can’t be the only person who longs for this, 5) I just made a thing and would love company, 6) there is an extra-extra-extra low price for the first few people.

Not sure if there are still spots left because I am away, but give it a try!

—-> http://www.fluentself.com/righting/ —-> PASSWORD: oneword

Come play if you like…

Join me in the comments. Some of us share hard and good, some of us say hi, or maybe we’re on silent retreat. My ritual doesn’t have to be your ritual. Whatever works for you. Almost three hundred weeks of this and there still isn’t a right way.

Everyone belongs. We let people have their own experience. We’re supportive and welcoming. We don’t give advice.

Wishing you a glorrrrrrrrrrrrious day, a restful weekend and a happy week to come.

Shabbat shalom.

p.s. It’s fine if it’s not Friday anymore. There’s complete chicken amnesty — join in whenever you like, it’s no big deal. And I am blowing kisses to the Beloved Lurkers. I love that you are here too.

P is for Possibilities.

It was Rally P, and it was perfect in every way, of course, because Nothing Is Wrong and This Moment Is Right, and This Moment Is Useful, and I am Taking A Breath, and that is what perfect means, to me.

Not that everything went the way I wanted it to, not that everything was “flawless”, whatever that means. Just that everything that happens at Rally is part of Rally, and here we are, on a marvelous shared adventure.

And since I was on a Stealth Adventure for Rally P, it was, in a sense, a private week of P.

P is for playing, what we do here, the starting-point of self-fluency.

P is for all the things that are possible.

Since there are far too many pleasurable P-words to play with, how about a compass of Possibilities?

North: Possibilities.

Pure potential.

Anything can happen.

Who knows what marvelous things are in store.

Northeast: Provision.

Provisions and provisioning, all forms of taking exquisite care of myself.

Caring for past me and for incoming me. Planting jolly ranchers for later.

East: Presence.

I am here now.

Right here, right now.

I want to be here now.

A breath for this moment, and for being with it.

Southeast: Pleasure.

Delighting in pleasure.

Trusting in pleasure.

Choosing pleasure.

I avoided this one for years, too scary, too intense. It was waiting for me though. And it was just right. It was even better than I thought it would be when I was hiding from it. Uh huh.

South: Permission.

An anchoring word, if there ever was one.

Something else I feared, because I thought it was about a lack of boundaries.

Actually it is about marvelous boundaries: glowingly healthy boundaries.

It is about play and it is about presence and it is about knowing what you want. It is about giving legitimacy to what you feel, need and want. Big stuff.

Southwest: Passion.

Thinking about a former lover who introduced me to this poem, by Helen Chasin.

It is called The Word Plum:

The word plum is delicious

pout and push, luxury of
self-love, and savoring murmur

full in the mouth and falling
like fruit

taut skin
pierced, bitten, provoked into
juice, and tart flesh

question
and reply, lip and tongue
of pleasure.

Yes, passion is luscious. And so are words. And so, for that matter, are plums. Although the lover in question had never had one. I have a weakness for people who are unfamiliar with ordinary things that are not ordinary at all. It is a thing.

West: Passage.

It is about preparation for the voyage.

It is about crossing.

We are always in a state of passage. Sometimes in a significantly more heightened state of crossing the line. This is what Rally is for, to facilitate passages. So you can come back with new awareness.

Southwest: Protection.

Safety, shelter, sanctuary, safe rooms. But also: privacy.

Knowing that you are held. Knowing that you are cared for. Knowing that nothing can get in that doesn’t need to. A force field that only allows in the qualities you want, in the amounts that feel safe and comfortable. Protection.

Other P words.

Paths and pathways. Peace and Peacefulness. Percolating. Providence. Plenty. Poetry.

Planting. Purpose. Persimmon. Participation. Picking (both up and also: choosing). Pink. Past. Ports. Portals. Portable. Porches. Privacy.

Painting. Positivity. Patience. Perception. Percepting. Precision. Perseverance. Purpose. Poise.

Polish. Publish. Private Eye.

Peonies. Posies. Parenthetical asides. Possess. Parades! Parks. Pouring. Pie. Pennies. Picnics. Pizazz. Protests. Pickles. Perch. Periwinkle. Pass. Process. Promenade.

Perspective, which is seeing the Possibilities. Playground. Play! Pert. Picturesque. Party, and Briana’s brother who takes his party with him. Pattern Recognition. Power. Preparation. Potential.

And of course we must visit Phrontisterey for such words as paizogony (it’s totally making out), palanquin, and pantopragmatic.

May it be so! And come play with me.

Thank you, letter P.

If you want to whisper words or sound effects that start with P, go for it.

If you want to share in any of the qualities and magical words I named here, you can.

They work like the salves in the Friday Chicken: just take some, there is always more.

Whispering loving spells that begin with P, for myself, and for anyone who wants…