What's in the gallery?
We dissolve stuck and rewrite patterns. We apply radical playfulness to life (when we feel like it!), embarking on internal adventures (credo of Safety First). We have a fake band called Solved By Cake. We build invisible sanctuaries, invent words and worlds, breathe awe and wonder.
We are not impressed by monsters. Except when we are. We explore the connections between internal territories and surrounding environment to learn what marvelously supportive delicious space feels like, and how to take exquisite care of ourselves. We transform things.* We glow wild.**
* For example: Desire, fear, worry, pain-and-trauma, boundaries, that problematic word which rhymes with flaweductivity.
** Fair warning: Self-fluency has been known to lead to extremely subversive behavior, including treasuring yourself unconditionally, unapologetically taking up space, experiencing outrageously improbable levels of self-acceptance, and general rejoicing in aliveness.
What's in the gallery?
We dissolve stuck and rewrite patterns. We apply radical playfulness to life (when we feel like it!), embarking on internal adventures (credo of Safety First). We have a fake band called Solved By Cake. We build invisible sanctuaries, invent words and worlds, breathe awe and wonder.
We are not impressed by monsters. Except when we are. We explore the connections between internal territories and surrounding environment to learn what marvelously supportive delicious space feels like, and how to take exquisite care of ourselves. We transform things.* We glow wild.**
* For example: Desire, fear, worry, pain-and-trauma, boundaries, that problematic word which rhymes with flaweductivity.
** Fair warning: Self-fluency has been known to lead to extremely subversive behavior, including treasuring yourself unconditionally, unapologetically taking up space, experiencing outrageously improbable levels of self-acceptance, and general rejoicing in aliveness.
The power of non-zero
![steaming hot cider in a ceramic mug](https://www.fluentself.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/IMG_1286-scaled.jpeg")
Non-zero
Non-zero is a superpower, possibly my favorite.
Or at least we can say it’s the one I am most consistently devoted to, the one I have been spending the most time with. Non-zero as a practice, non-zero as mindset.
I am cultivating a relationship with non-zero as an approach, to my day, to a long cold winter, to the daily effort of existing.
By which I mean: the challenges of being a person in a body, in this culture, in this world, and the ongoing work of keeping on keeping on.
Non-zero is a way of simplifying.
Simplifying
Non-zero simplifies and clarifies.
It is the power of do less, but hey, we are still doing something.
Do less, but still something
Less is still something, even [a very little] is still something, and something is not nothing.
And not-nothing is a big deal actually.
Any amount of effort, any amount of progress. It counts and it matters, good job, good job.
It changes the question
Am I going to do an hour of yoga like the monsters in my head think I should? Nope, but I am going to try for non-zero movement.
Maybe that’s a neck stretch, maybe that’s hugging myself, maybe that’s rolling on the floor for the duration of one song. Maybe it’s dancing in the kitchen. Good job, non-zero movement!
Am I going to empty my inbox and close all the tabs? Probably not! But can I close a non-zero number of tabs and archive a non-zero amount of email? Amazing work, progress!
From a stress-goal to a doable something
Am I going to keep setting impossible (for me, currently, in this moment) goals like spend time outside every day, or can I start where I am with a non-zero version of that, like taking three to five porch breaths?
Do you see? We are lowering the bar, we are seeking a shift in focus…
A shift in focus
Shifting my focus to non-zero takes me out of the stress-mindset of striving and achieving, and it keeps me from sinking into the devastating bitterness when I am simply unable to do any of the things on my list, as often happens, because my brain is broken.
I am not trying to do all the things, or even most of them, or even some of them.
Instead I am aiming for non-zero in a few categories. We’ll see how it goes from there. But non-zero is a big deal, and we celebrate it.
One small step, or maybe more, or maybe not
When I am attuned to the power of non-zero, I am are not forcing myself to think big, aim high, reach further. I am just zeroing in. What small, low-effort and immediate steps are available to me in the moment?
One step and then another step. Or maybe just the one.
It’s still a non-zero amount of forward movement, good job, good job.
It’s not nothing, it’s so much more than nothing!
I love you and I’m proud of you, babe! Look at you, making non-zero progress!
Not nothing
We are not focused on finishing, we are focused on non-zero.
It’s not nothing, it’s more than nothing, and it counts. It matters.
When everything is effortful and feels impossible, even a very symbolic amount of effort is game-changing.
And it serves as a reminder that non-zero is possible, which is encouraging.
In fact, it’s almost always more encouraging than I expect it to be…
You wins some, you win some later
Is it in fact true that sometimes (often) non-zero effort leads to more? Yes it is, but also that’s not the point, and even if it doesn’t, non-zero is still non-zero.
Progress is still progress. Patience is still patience, and we’re playing the long game.
You win some, you win some more later.
Lowering the bar
I think we’ve talked about this theme many times over the years here, but it’s also so easy to forget.
Just as it can be hard to practice acknowledgment and legitimacy in challenging times, it is hard to remember that non-zero is a good starting point.
We are existing in challenging times (in the world, maybe also internally) and sometimes we have high expectations of ourselves, plus we exist in a world that rewards achieving and does not appreciate process.
But here we are, sometimes things are a struggle. They often are, for me. So what does non-zero look like?
Surprise inspiration
I cannot express exactly how inspiring non-zero number of anything can feel when it happens…but it is!
A non-zero amount of, for example…
hydrating
decluttering
dishes
de-piling
moving or stretching
journaling
cleaning
being outdoors
etc
Noticing is also on the list of non-zero things
As in: I noticed the non-zero things I did, and gave myself credit.
Non-zero credit to me! A thousand sparklepoints, at least….
This also shifts the focus.
Instead of saying, “Ugh I didn’t clean the house this weekend like I was going to”, I can say something else.
The non-zero cleaning I did this weekend included sweeping the floor, cleaning the sink, wiping down the kitchen cabinets, good job to me.
The connection between non-zero and hope
This amazing thought via a dance acquaintance:
“Finding hope is an important ambition these days, with the world on fire…”
So true, put it on a poster, graffiti it on buildings.
Finding hope is an important ambition, and for me, non-zero and all related practices of do less but do something, exist on the winding path towards hope.
What else would help?
What else would help?
In addition to all the powers of non-zero, I am also calling (in, on, up) all superpowers of…
patience
I play the long game
slow & steady wins the race, and either way: slow & steady
the cowboy abides
the clues are invited to the party (I only have to invite them)
loving clarity
there’s time
putting my faith in a tiny walk
what if slow is powerful
what if a little helps more than I think it will…
What else is or can be slow and powerful
Walking, cooking, baking, journaling, training…
Taking an entire day to make a pot of delicious Tunisian beans with braised spinach and onions for the week, letting them soften until they are impossibly delicious.
Yes, we are back to the slow motion montage, to chop wood, carry water, write words. One step and then the next step…
Not alone. Not empty. Non-zero.
Speaking of slow is powerful…
I was listening to the Samara Joy cover of Someone Like You…
And it is sooo slow.
And I Need You To Turn To, Arik Einstein covering Elton John, which is slow in a different way.
What else is slow?
What else is slow, in a good way? Magic, hope, strength-building, spell-casting.
Salt, water, garlic, onion, whatever helps.
Walking for three minutes, heating water for tea, listening to a song, whatever helps.
Outside of time
Process, healing, rehabilitation, moving through time after a traumatic experience, or through an ongoing traumatic experience. Slow, but also: outside of time.
Non-zero progress can translate to big gains in this not-in-time space. And so we continue, one small symbolic step and the next, as indicated.
What appeals? What is small and doable? Let’s start there. I’m with you.
Small but important thank-yous
Thank you to Marisa, my wise mathematician friend, who brought non-zero into my vocabulary.
Thank you to Holly for reminding me that non-zero is powerful magic, whether I remember that or not.
Thank you to Amanda for reminding me that the big list of what is still undone is not a helpful thing to fall asleep to, when I can instead celebrate each non-zero win from my day.
And thank you to everyone who reads what I write here, you are the reason I sit down to write non-zero words and think non-zero thoughts so that we can play with them together and on our own.
Non-zero gratitude, and then a whole heartful, isn’t that beautiful? I think so too.
What are your wishes?
What are your wishes? I am lighting a candle for them, and for your own investigative process, and whatever treasures are revealed from the act of wishing.
Oh wow, what beautiful wishes. I love to wish wishes with you.
Thank you, everyone who reads, thank you to porch breaths, to the winding path, to all the many clues that land when they land, to receptivity, and to the tiny hope sparks that we keep cultivating, one breath at a time.
Come play in the comments, I appreciate the company
You are welcome to share anything that sparked for you while reading, or anything that helped or anything on your mind. Wishes you are wishing.
Or anything you’d like to toss into the wishing pot, the healing power of the collective is no small thing, companionship always helps.
You can wish any wishes that come to mind (come to heart?), or echo “Oh wow, what beautiful wishes!” for my wishes or anyone else’s.
I’m happy you’re here with me.
Bonus question
I’m making progress on bonus material about how I relate to time and map out my quarters, let me know if there anything you want to know more about specifically? Drop any questions or thoughts here…
Anyone who gives to Barrington’s Discretionary (see below) will get these by email as soon as I finish editing, I hope soon.
A request
If you received clues or perspective or want to send appreciation for the writing and work/play we do here, I appreciate it tremendously. Working on some stuff to offer this coming year, but between traumatic brain injury recovery & Long Covid, slow going.
I am accepting support (with joy & gratitude) in the form of Appreciation Money to Barrington’s Discretionary Fund. Asking is not where my strength resides but Brave & Stalwart is the theme these days, and pattern-rewriting is the work, it all helps with fixing the many broken things.
And if those aren’t options, I get it, you can light a candle for support (or light one in your mind!), share this with someone who loves words, tell people about these techniques, approaches and themes, send them here, it all helps, it’s all welcome, and I appreciate it and you so much. ❤️
And other autumnal delights
A quick check-in
Hi friends, I hope you are safe and well, adjusted to the time change if that’s something that takes you extra-adjusting, that you are finding comforts, useful clues, some pleasure where you can, or whatever is most needed.
Today we are exploring Autumnal Delights, as well as what helps when I get overwhelmed, and my rebelliousness around holidays, perceived shoulds, forced gratitude. But also some thoughts about how we might find our way to something new and better…
And other autumnal delights
Noticing, what am I noticing?
Something I have noticed (previously, over time, and also very much lately)…
I can find myself in the moodiest mood, and I either try to find reasons or try to find solutions.
But actually, for me, a moody mood is usually a reflection of a need for blank space, in some form or another.
That is to say, there is too much going on in my line of vision in addition to inside my head, and it’s overwhelming.
I need to look at a clean surface, or gaze out at an open field with big sky.
Getting there
So, there’s the reason (not enough blank space), and the solution (make some blank space), but it takes me a while to get there, to the realization, to the remembering. And then sometimes I can figure out what else is upsetting me, and what would help.
I know what helps, but I forget.
And then, once I get there, it takes me even longer to remember how to access that blank space, wide open, steadying calming experience.
Sometimes I just move everything off my kitchen table, sometimes I go outside and look at the sky.
But I always feel better when I make space, literally as well as emotionally, to be in my big mood.
The usual dilemma (1)
Yes, I crave blank space to be able to function. A wall with nothing on it, an open vista, a clean table.
Versus the powerful ADHD urge to gather, and compile, to fill my space with dozens of reminders, because of course I am the most out of sight out of mind person who has ever lived, and what will I do, how will I know what to do next, without being reminded…
Forgetting of course that I also forget to perceive the reminders as reminders, and only perceive them as blocking my view of [the thing I crave, what is it, oh right, blank space].
The usual dilemma (2)
If you’ve been hanging out here for any amount of time, you know that I am intensely allergic to the holiday season, that I dread American Thanksgiving, and Christmas…
These two days are tied for number one in the category of Loneliest Day Of The Year.
And you also know that I am on an ongoing quest to make them better, or hate them less, or get through them with less distress, I don’t know exactly.
Sometimes my calendar is too much like my kitchen table, cluttered with reminders, but not enough space to plan.
Progress report
As you know, I love a feast day, I love planning a menu, and I mostly love being the lone cowboy of the bunkhouse.
So I am trying to view or perceive American Thanksgiving (next Thursday but really that whole weekend) as an opportunity to go through a chrysalis of sorts.
I want to perceive this time as a passage of my choosing rather rather than a hellish pitfall in the calendar, a place in the year that I dread.
And so we begin with questions…
What would make for a cozy, contented Hermitsgiving?
What supports a playful Zerofucksgiving?
What makes for a calm, sweet day of Naps-having?
What do I already know about this?
What are the known knowns?
The Known Knowns
I think the main thing I want for Hermitsgiving 2023 is a clean house and good food and a clear schedule for chrysalis activities so I can avoid social media and other traps…
Though maybe those wishes are also traps, or they can be, if I allow them to become expectations or shoulds.
Oof, and I want to get my vacuum fixed if it’s fixable or replace if it’s not because it’s giving off a burning smell which scares me, and all this means venturing into far-away civilization before pre-holiday chaos intensifies..
But mainly I am thinking about this Hermitsgiving chrysalis in terms of how it fits into the bigger picture of my year.
And I am considering the humbling question of WHAT DO I WANT, as opposed to reacting to external circumstances forced upon me.
What do I want from this holiday?
I think for me a lot of this exploration is related how reactive I am, because yes, I am a rebellious person who does not like any of the external structures, and I only like my own structures…
Can I find a way to enjoy having a feast day next Thursday without being mad at the world (or really, this country, this culture) for forcing it on me?
What would help me step away from the perception that the whole world is conspiring to remind me that I am all alone while everyone else is gathering, and instead, with great love and intention, choose this chrysalis time for myself…
Can I calmly choose towards the peaceful solitude of the cowboy bunkhouse, that big open sky that I know I crave anyway?
Yes, alone and quiet is what I wish for most anyway, so why am I fighting it…?
Porch breaths
It isn’t too cold yet so each evening I go outside and take porch breaths.
I love the scent, the crisp air, taking a moment to connect with my tree friends and mountain friends, the great expanse, the fields, the gates, the guardians of place.
Are we calling this a gratitude practice? Probably not, I think I’m allergic to that too, but also yes, sure,
it’s that too. It’s an honor to be here, breathing, alive, taking porch breaths at the end of another day, we made it.
Porch breaths are an autumnal delight.
In the deep cold of winter, sometimes I will open the door for just one, but right now I can take as many as I please. A miracle in its own right.
Flavor and pleasure
Some of you know that I run a test kitchen for the holidays, where I try out as many recipes as I have energy and patience to try, choosing from the ones that appeal most, until I land on some favorites, some True Yeses.
The theme of the Hermitsgiving Test Kitchen this year is And Other Autumnal Delights.
I made a spiced apple shrub with brown sugar, date vinegar, and a homemade toasted spice blend, it is so delicious I almost cannot handle it.
It is pear season, and pears rank high among the autumnal delights. I made a pear crisp with some green chile, because for me a good punch in the face (a metaphorical one, via the tastebuds) is also an autumnal delight, and also IDK IDK, sometimes I just need to feel things, you know?
What else?
I made a chocolate ginger cake (vegan, gluten free), and it was almost too good. Upsetting, honestly. This is what I want from my autumnal delights actually. Yes. Be life-ruiningly delicious.
Be life-ruiningly delicious or gtfo.
This is what I want from so many things, actually.
Destroy me with pleasure. Go big or go home. Go big and go home.
Back to the bunkhouse, with a magical pot of green chile stew, and a hot cider cocktail or mocktail.
What is good about Hermitsgiving?
Or, what would help me see it as something I am choosing towards, and not something I am stuck with, a consolation prize, a making-do?
I get to eat exactly what I want, at exactly the time I am hungry. This is important.
Even better, I do not have to accommodate anyone else’s preferences in any way (food, politics, anything at all), and there is no need to be polite, to placate, to do anything other than what I wish to do.
Popcorn for breakfast? Why not.
Dessert first? I insist.
What is joy?
I have spent so much time thinking about everything I dislike about the holiday season and this holiday in particular that I forgot to pause to think about what is joyful, meaningful, desirable, what I can focus on instead.
What would put me into that porch-breath state of wanting to give thanks, in these hard and scary times, these super intense times when everything feels wildly accelerated and too busy, too loud, too dangerous.
Or, if not joy and not thankfulness, then what brings me closer to Operation Winter Cheer?
How can I add cheer, layer on cheeriness, make this a cozy and comfortable time of meeting myself with more kindness, more patience, more sweetness, more appreciation?
A practice of keeping company
I am wondering about maybe next week, instead of posting an essay here, just having a cozy gathering space for anyone who wants to drop in and hang out in the comments (you are welcome to use an assumed name, whether for safety or playfulness or both)…
And that way we can have some together along with the holiday, maybe wish some wishes or call in some superpowers or just notice what we are noticing, make some space, mark the day, take some breaths.
You can tell me what you are eating, and I will try to take pictures of whatever I end up cooking, assuming I have energy to cook. It might just be popcorn and leftovers, we will see.
What do you think? Next Thursday? Here?
There are a lot of ways to be festive, and sometimes my feast days are more pensive than festive, but what if that’s part of marking a holiday too…
Let’s conjure up some autumnal delights…
Or for all southern-hemisphere friends, maybe these are springtime delights for you, rewrite as you see fit.
Here I am thinking about a warm wool hat, sweater weather, getting on a heating pad to stretch.
The vegan chocolate salted caramel sauce that I make for a special occasion, and really, can’t anything be a special occasion? Sometimes the desire to have an occasion is its own occasion.
Desire is its own occasion. Being alive is an occasion.
What is warming, what sweetens, what comforts, what softens, what strengthens, what fortifies me? And what reminds me to go on the porch and breathe?
Let’s call in the delights!
What are your wishes?
What are your wishes? I am lighting a candle for them, and for your own investigative process, and whatever treasures are revealed from the act of wishing.
Oh wow, what beautiful wishes. I love to wish wishes with you.
Thank you, everyone who reads, thank you to porch breaths, to the winding path, to all the many clues that land when they land, to receptivity, and to the tiny hope sparks that we keep cultivating, one breath at a time.
Come play in the comments, I appreciate the company
You are welcome to share anything that sparked for you while reading, or anything that helped or anything on your mind. Wishes you are wishing.
Or anything you’d like to toss into the wishing pot, the healing power of the collective is no small thing, companionship always helps.
You can wish any wishes that come to mind (come to heart?), or echo “Oh wow, what beautiful wishes!” for my wishes or anyone else’s.
I’m happy you’re here with me.
Bonus question
I’m making progress on bonus material about how I relate to time and map out my quarters, let me know if there anything you want to know more about specifically? Drop any questions or thoughts here…
Anyone who gives to Barrington’s Discretionary (see below) will get these by email as soon as I finish editing, I hope soon.
A request
If you received clues or perspective or want to send appreciation for the writing and work/play we do here, I appreciate it tremendously. Working on some stuff to offer this coming year, but between traumatic brain injury recovery & Long Covid, slow going.
I am accepting support (with joy & gratitude) in the form of Appreciation Money to Barrington’s Discretionary Fund. Asking is not where my strength resides but Brave & Stalwart is the theme these days, and pattern-rewriting is the work, it all helps with fixing the many broken things.
And if those aren’t options, I get it, you can light a candle for support (or light one in your mind!), share this with someone who loves words, tell people about these techniques, approaches and themes, send them here, it all helps, it’s all welcome, and I appreciate it and you so much. ❤️
Ode to St Carla
A quick check-in
Hi friends, I hope you are doing okay with the TIME CHARADE (this is how my phone renamed “time change” this year, and I am sticking with it), or if not then I hope you are less of a wreck than I am.
And I hope you are finding good clues, finding some pleasure where you can, or whatever is most needed. We are doing some old-school wish processing this week, let’s wish some wishes…
Ode to St Carla
Jamming
I love when I review old journals full of wishes and wish-processing from years gone by, only to discover yet again that I am, more often than not, wishing variations on past wishes, exploring variations on past explorations…
As if I am in a jazz combo and I am all the musicians at once, and we are jamming with each other.
We are playing (both meanings). And also: Jamming!
Yes, that is exactly what I mean. We are playing, we are running licks and improvising, messing around, iteration upon iteration, checking in on our favorite themes.
What if the act and process of Wishing is just an ongoing jam session? I think it might be.
Diving into an example
A wish I have returned to at many points over the years is a wish to spend way less time at grocery stores.
This is partly a wish about time and where it goes.
This is partly a wish about conserving energy.
It is a wish about the superpower of being Well Provisioned.
This is also a wish about not wanting to be perceived?
Maybe that’s not it exactly, but: something about the sensory overload of being in a grocery store environment, and something about how it’s hard for me to maintain good force fields in that environment.
Also: People like to talk to me in grocery stores and I wish they would not.
Timing
I wished this wish or a version of this wish quite often in pre-pandemic times.
Then it was partly about not ever wanting to leave my house, and partly about how much time it takes when you live an hour from town, and a lot about the brutal Arizona summer heat — 111 degrees Fahrenheit (44 C) is not conducive for doing anything, never mind something that involves getting dressed, decision making or carrying heavy bags.
Then early pandemic was about being strategic, Safety First. Arranging to only go out twice a month, or less. You remember. The most fraught days.
Well Provisioned
In some ways this situation invited in a new form of this wish, or you could say it clarified new elements of what I had been wishing for in my various wishes — be more organized, have a well-stocked pantry, go out less often!
I became somewhat obsessed with superpower of Well Provisioned.
Have what you need. Well stocked. Prepared.
On the flip side, these days also brought food scarcity and anxiety (and the relationship between them, weeks when I was too depressed to go grocery shopping for example), and generally a lot of discomfort.
Circumstances kept shifting, and each new round of challenges made grocery shopping both more vital and less appealing. Circumstances etc.
Circumstances etc
There was the time my car had to be in the shop for much longer than anticipated, the nearest grocery was ten miles away, too far to walk in that heat, and I subsisted on oatmeal until it was done. An ordeal.
The next summer, I got a concussion the night before my planned grocery run. I couldn’t remember where the grocery store even was, and stayed in bed for ten days, surviving on whatever I could find in the cupboards at my house-sit until I could drive again.
That deeply miserable experience gave me a new reason to wish for a full and well-stocked pantry.
Do you think I learned from it though? Hahaha why would you think that.
Here we go again
The following summer, monsoon flooding did the same. Repeat!
Sometimes I need to learn the same lesson in a dozen iterations.
Eleven days in my tiny house. Venturing out to check on the flooded roads. Watching the supplies dwindle down until I was inventing things like “sure maybe this is kind of a soup” and “surprise rice”, and it got rougher than that.
But we made it. I’m still here. And even more devoted to well-stocked and well-provisioned.
Have I learned? I’m trying!
Trying
Here are my wins from going through these experiences.
I always have rice in the house and some beans, and oats.
And a stash of dried red chile peppers, because this is New Mexico.
Good spices. Cans of coconut milk. Dried fruit. Flax seed and various flours for baking.
A new form of urgency
So I’m slowly getting a better at stocking up.
And remembering why it’s important, instead of waiting until I’m out of everything to solve for food.
I am taking more pleasure in this, that feels important too. I like to be well-stocked and well-provisioned generally.
And also, now it feels more urgent.
This past summer, the sixth summer of wishing this wish, brought a new challenge, being accosted by strangers about my respirator.
There are the jokes (“You gonna to rob a bank?”) and the comments (“You don’t need that on your face, you’d look better without it”), and I hate it.
No, I really hate it
I dealt with the looks and being the only one in the store wearing a mask, but I draw the line at having to interact with people at all, never mind having to explain myself to them.
So now there’s a new layer of dread to grocery shopping, in addition to the effort, the drive, the ADHD challenges of executive function and coming up with a list, and just not wanting to do it, or not having energy…
I just don’t want to have these conversations with people who are so at ease with putting me in danger, and on top of that want to argue about it.
Feelings!
It is infuriating to me that I cannot afford to be sick or to get any more sick, and yet here I am.
Being disabled by covid has been life-altering and eye-opening, and it’s a fucking bummer to go into the world and be reminded that not only will people not do the minimum to protect me (and themselves), they actively want to challenge me, or to talk me out of the only safety measures I have. No thanks.
No thanks to that.
More feelings
I don’t like supermarkets, generally. They are too noisy for me, both visually and in the auditory sense.
People are rushed and not paying attention to where they are in space, it’s like everyone loses all proprioception.
And they are full of waste, or waste-to-be, a storehouse of things to be thrown away. Which is depressing.
The more I learn about how they work, the behind the scenes life of the workers, the conditions small companies need to fill in order to have shelf space, the more I am against the whole thing.
But whatever, reasons are bullshit, mainly it’s just that I don’t ever want to go.
I don’t want to go!
It’s too hot or too cold and I don’t want to put on sunscreen, and carry bags into from the car.
So one question that arises from wishing is how to be well-provisioned while going into town less often…
And another question is how to make these trips more enjoyable, less stressful, better protected, if that’s possible?
What does Carla think I should do
I was listening to an interview on the This Is Taste podcast, with Carla Lalli-Music, and I am not entirely sure why but I deeply wanted to dislike it, and then of course I loved it.
This is her approach: Any grocery item that doesn’t need to be seen or touched to know if it’s good, you just order it online.
For example, flour, sugar, olive oil, oats, rice, olives, any provisions that are pre-packaged and don’t need to be examined by you in person. You stock up your pantry over time and re-order when supplies get low.
For her, going to the market is purely for pleasure and sensory joy: a lighthearted adventure, an intuitive practice, you don’t have a long list of goods to acquire, you pop in to see what produce looks enticing, what is fresh, luscious, and appealing.
Excitement sparks
You fill up your basket with things you are excited to cook with, and then you go home and only have to carry in a couple bags.
You aren’t exhausted and depleted from the experience, and you don’t have to do the chore of putting everything away.
For her, you grocery-shop for joy items and freshness, you commune with what’s available, you get grocery items that are appealing, you are there for a quick yes.
And everything that doesn’t need you to smell it, touch it, and connect to it can be attained online.
St Carla the Wise, St Carla the Playful
I’ll be honest. A few years ago, I would have hated this approach.
First of all, because I am rebellious aka fuck you don’t tell me what to do.
And also because when I lived in cities, I felt strongly about shopping local, interacting with neighbors, being part of something.
But now I am older (in the sense of wiser? who can say), slower, tired, with less ability, and I live way out in the country in a tiny, tiny house that doesn’t have climate control.
And I care about different things like moving slowly, and the principle of what my dance teacher used to call Do Less To Get More. And of course, having quality ingredients on hand.
The right reminder at the right time
So her approach and advice were not right for me then, and now they are.
Now I can smile and say, THANK YOU, ST CARLA.
More than the approach (take it if it works for you, leave it if not), I appreciate this reminder.
The reminder in her approach for me is about the question of What Is Joy, and What Is Not Joy.
What is joy and what is not-joy
Joy, for me:
Ease of ease. I have what I need. I can be creative and playful.
Cooking is a source of joy for me. I can do a lot with a little.
Restriction is an art form too. Like a haiku.
Something about appreciating restriction and appreciating plenty at the same time. Use what you have.
And: making do is a kingdom.
Not-joy, for me:
Feeling rushed, anxious. Tightness.
Living on rice and oats for weeks.
Realizing I predictably forgot to get that one thing that I always forget. Or the other thing.
Each time I know that I need to go get groceries, but I simply cannot make myself.
(I just went into town the other day after eleven days of not going, and obviously I am a hero, braver than the marines, but what if it didn’t have to be like this?)
Talk to me, St Carla of Choose Ease
One of the reasons I love her approach so much is that it’s really about making a grocery run less of a chore and more pleasure-based.
You pantry-stock the boring necessities from the comfort of your home, and the grand adventure is to go out and procure something fun and special.
I like the idea of reducing dread, and also making these trips less hard on my shoulder (carrying bags), and spending less money on gas (traveling to town less often).
And of course, fewer uncomfortable interactions, amen.
What else is this about?
Of course this also plays with my big wish for a greenhouse.
To have an indoor vegetable garden, a garden space I don’t have to protect from frost or deer or elk or javelina.
This wish also intertwines with my wish for a washing machine! A greenhouse would be a place it could live without the pipes freezing.
A washing machine used weekly with natural soap would also supply enough water to feed four trees, fruit trees or nut trees.
A dreamy dream
I miss my long-ago job in the orchards so much (they are gone, but I am still here), and it would be so lovely to tend to fruit tree friends again.
And four is a good amount for someone like me who moves slowly these days, though I am still hoping and praying for energy to return, or something even better.
I know St Carla would be happy for me if I had a small greenhouse here, plant friends to talk to, herbs for cooking, vegetables for salad.
And a warm spot to visit in the winter.
A warm cozy spot
I can’t have plants in my house because there is no climate control, so I can only warm or cool one room at a time, all the plants I’ve tried to bring here have died.
But if I could visit them…wouldn’t that be beautiful and magical?
A reason to keep on keeping on, and god knows we are collecting as many of those as we can.
What a beautiful wish, what beautiful wishes
A hand-on-heart sigh for these beautiful wishes, a candle lit for these beautiful wishes.
I do not know how they will come to pass or when or in what form, or if at all, because that is the nature of wishing, and that’s okay.
Wishes are about clarity and clarifying, they are about refinement, they are about being brave enough to allow ourselves to want and make space for the wanting.
Wishes are more about questions than answers
They are more about questions than answers, and mainly they are about a process of getting honest with ourselves.
What’s working, what needs work? What am I really upset about or hurt over?
And what might help?
That’s a beautiful process, and that’s what makes wishing and wanting important human endeavors.
Calling on / in / up
Calling on superpowers, qualities and concepts to assist with the wishing…
- I am Playful & Creative, Focused & Clear
- Small steps (choose one!)
- The instincts reveal themselves (can I let the instincts reveal themselves?)
- What Would The Cowboy Do
- Where is the treasure / what if this is all working out great actually
- Hey, Surprise Good Mood
- Let’s just clean one thing
- Further Reductions (what can I let go of, what can I refine)
- I Can Be Kind With Myself Today (or at least I can try)
A tiny holiday for anyone who needs one
Glowing loving birthday wishes for Walton Goggins (Friday, November 10) who, among many other things in his life, plays Boyd Crowder in Justified, my very favorite fictional villain.
Which basically confirms that Boyd Crowder is a scorpio, in my mind. I know that’s not how it works but I want it to be true, and really, what else would he be.
And while obviously we don’t necessarily want to emulate ruthless killers who are charming narcissists, here are the Boyd Crowder qualities I do want to invoke:
A way with words, deep love for home, looking out for yourself, always knowing what to say, somehow staying calm, alert, grounded and adaptable even in impossible situations. May it be so, or something even better.
Love, comfort, sweetness and warmth to Walton Goggins, god knows we all know what it’s like to have challenging and complicated grief-laden times in the calendar.
Here’s to new and better for all of us.
Other wishes, while we are wishing
All wishes are proxies for other wishes, and also there is room in the cauldron for as many wishes as we want, so let’s find out what else we are wishing for.
I suppose there’s no bigger cliche than “peace in the middle east”, but: as ever, a heartfelt wish for an end to this nightmare. An end to the killing of civilians, to the ongoing horrors. Safety and sanctuary for everyone involved. And of course, may the hostages be returned swiftly and safely. A wish for comfort, for new solutions.
While I am wishing wishes, I am wishing wishes related to American Thanksgiving, the second loneliest day of the year for me, coming up soon.
Wishing for ideas, for all the best ways to distract myself, comfort myself and make a delicious meal that is a delight to have with myself, after all a cowboy spends long stretches of time alone at the bunkhouse, what if I enjoy it?
Warmth, all meanings
I am wishing for better ways to stay warm this cold New Mexico mountain winter, and to glow warmth, in general.
And for better ways to be brave, but also for fewer reasons to be brave.
To appreciate all clues, to let them come in their timing. To let myself figure things out in my own timing.
And of course to live by the principles of St Carla, aka more joy, more ease, always learning more about how can I be even more kind with myself, towards myself.
What are your wishes, speaking of warmth?
What are your wishes? I am lighting a candle for them, and for your own investigative process, and whatever treasures are revealed from the act of wishing.
Oh wow, what beautiful wishes. I love to wish wishes with you.
Thank you, St Carla, thank you to the winding path, to all the many clues that land when they land, to receptivity, and to the tiny hope sparks that we keep cultivating, one breath at a time.
Come play in the comments, I appreciate the company
You are welcome to share anything that sparked for you while reading, or anything that helped or anything on your mind. Wishes you are wishing.
Or anything you’d like to toss into the wishing pot, the healing power of the collective is no small thing, companionship always helps.
You can wish any wishes that come to mind (come to heart?), or echo “Oh wow, what beautiful wishes!” for my wishes or anyone else’s.
I’m happy you’re here with me.
Bonus question
I’m making progress on bonus material about how I relate to time and map out my quarters, let me know if there anything you want to know more about specifically? Drop any questions or thoughts here…
Anyone who gives to Barrington’s Discretionary (see below) will get these by email as soon as I finish editing, I hope soon.
A request
If you received clues or perspective or want to send appreciation for the writing and work/play we do here, I appreciate it tremendously. Working on some stuff to offer this coming year, but between traumatic brain injury recovery & Long Covid, slow going.
I am accepting support (with joy & gratitude) in the form of Appreciation Money to Barrington’s Discretionary Fund. Asking is not where my strength resides but Brave & Stalwart is the theme these days, and pattern-rewriting is the work, it all helps with fixing the many broken things.
And if those aren’t options, I get it, you can light a candle for support (or light one in your mind!), share this with someone who loves words, tell people about these techniques, approaches and themes, send them here, it all helps, it’s all welcome, and I appreciate it and you so much. ❤️
Apropos of nothing and everything, adding sweetness
Adding sweetness
Apropos of nothing and of everything
I wrote this down, something Alex Steed said on the You Are Good podcast, it was the episode on The Changeling, he said it and I had to go back so I could hear him say it again.
A resonant clue for me, and maybe also for you…
He asked, What is grief but a haunting?
“What is grief but a haunting?”
What a question. What a notion.
Into the cauldron it goes
Anyway, dropping that gently into the pot, let’s see what wants to be said, and work around the parts that don’t want to be said, yet, or at all.
I am haunted by many things, people, memories and experiences, and am slowly emerging from a ptsd spiral, but none of that is what I want to tell you about today.
What wants to be said?
Last week
Last week I thought I wanted to share a recipe with you here.
I could not bring myself to write about [the many unbearably painful things going on in our world, and the enormity of that pain], and so I wanted some lightness, some playfulness, some contrast.
Specifically to be in contrast to the previous week’s piece about the fear-grief-despair, how big it can feel, and how heroic and meaningful our effort is each time we breathe life into the tiny hope sparks.
Thank you, everyone, for the lovely comments on that piece, and to the two people who emailed me cute pictures of their dog, I appreciate it all so much.
The idea: let us turn towards pleasure
I had been thinking about sunflowers and how they turn themselves towards the sun (and, sometimes, in absence of sunshine, towards each other, or so I have been told), a beautiful image.
Somehow turning towards light sources felt important, like maybe the only answer in a hard moment.
And that brought me to the thought that sharing a recipe here could be an experiment and a practice, turning towards the light-hearted.
Light-hearted and pleasure-based, giving us a thing to do, when we do not know what to do.
Make something, invite a new sensation
Make something, anything.
Make something delicious, invite a moment of joy.
But things quite often do not go the way I think they might (this is a theme), and this did not happen, as you know.
(This is a theme)
You may remember or know that October involved three entire weeks of no running water in my tiny house. On a good day with Long Covid, I get an hour of energy, or even more, but a lot of days I do not.
And so each day I would coax myself to don a heavy flannel, pull on boots, walk to the hydrant by the well and back, forth and back, to fill jugs of water for all the many things a person might need water.
Aka washing hands, cleaning vegetables for salad, making food, washing dishes, washing me, cleaning up, flushing the toilet.
Many days I did not wish to, or even could not get myself out of bed, and I would yell, GET UP, TRINITY!!!!
Sometimes this does the trick. Other times I had to wait until I was out of filtered drinking water or until almost dark when it could not be postponed.
Everything works until it doesn’t
Last Wednesday, I woke up to find that my right arm did not work; it could not lift or be lifted, and I was in excruciating pain. Back, neck, right shoulder, right arm. Agony.
There was no way I would be able to lift the heavy hydrant pump to get water, and without water, I cannot stay (here, or alive).
I was invited on a voyage. By necessity, the mother of invention and the one who sends out invites for a voyage.
We respectfully request your presence, please head west until further notice.
Voyage
The question: I had just spent twelve days in bed, would I even be able to set forth? Obviously, I had to.
But a friend suggested that maybe I’d been resting non-stop so that I could do what needed to be done now.
Maybe, who knows. That could be how a voyage works.
It was a helpful thought, and it got me going.
And so last Wednesday was not a writing day or a bed day or a recipe day, it was a go get help day, a voyage day.
Towards, again
I somehow got myself in the car and drove four hours towards the one person who always knows how to help, a chiropractor I know who is made of magic and, while not an angel, at the very least angel-adjacent.
I drove and drove, and screamed in pain through every right turn, fortunately there were not too many.
And somehow made it to a friend’s place, where I cried bringing my bag in from the car, and then surprised myself by immediately falling into a deep sleep until morning, too exhausted to care about anything.
A small explosion
Before leaving New Mexico, I stopped at a tire place and had someone check tires, because I could not use my arm, and I am 97% sure that he over-filled them.
When I left my friend’s place to head to my emergency appointment, I made it two blocks and then the front left tire burst, a small and powerful explosion.
I stood in the hot Arizona sun, thinking about how these are new tires from this summer, and about the man in small town New Mexico who filled the tires and clearly did not like me (my respirator is a barrier in situations like this), and about how I was not going to make it to my emergency appointment.
Collapse, in progress
The explosion took out more than my tire, it upended my plan, my day, and collapsed whatever remains of hope I had about things getting better.
Is this a small thing, compared to the terrors and atrocities in the world, and even compared with real life explosions I have experienced personally? Sure, but I was still thrown, and unable to think clearly.
Standing in the sun
The sun was bright and I didn’t know what to do, it would take ninety minutes for the car insurance company to send help, and I knew I couldn’t stay out that long in the heat, and I couldn’t move my arm.
This is too much, I said, because it was.
Angels again
Do you remember, or do I remember, pretty sure I wrote about it here, a long time ago, with my mother in Jerusalem. My younger brother was very sick, and this bus driver made it his job to get my brother home, and my mother was absolutely convinced that the bus driver was an angel, an actual angel.
I had pulled onto a side street and was standing there, in the sun, my right shoulder burning with pain, everything was too bright and overwhelming, a confusing situation.
Not two minutes passed and a lovely man pulled over, asked if I had a spare, grabbed tools from his car, took off the smooshed exploded tire, put on the spare, gave me a glowing smile, refused to take any money, and disappeared. Angel, angel….
(Yes, I was listening to Aerosmith on the radio on the way, surely that is not surprising.)
The point and not the point
I am pretty sure this was an angel situation too. And I realize that is a very odd thing to say, especially for me to say, because I don’t think that’s a thing I believe in, but also I am saying it.
Also would not be surprised if my mom arranged the whole thing. But maybe that’s not the point, and maybe angels, conceptual, metaphorical or otherwise, are also not the point.
What surprising good fortune, what a beautiful sweet miracle, thank you.
(That is the point.)
Cowboy hat
I drove to the tire place, crying in relief and shock, and the guy there remembered me from this summer, it’s probably the cowboy hat. Or being a lanky cowboy barbie doll from New Mexico.
All credit where credit is due — to angels, and to always wearing a cowboy hat.
He only charged me $40 USD for the new tire, bless him, and as it happens, the tire place is not far from the chiropractor who can fix anything, and he had another cancellation just as I arrived. Miracles abound.
Fifteen minutes later my pain was gone and full range of motion had returned. Another miracle.
Bless
Blessings upon my wise and funny chiropractor, blessings upon the handsome man who got me back on the road, blessings upon my friend who venmo-ed me money for car trouble, blessings upon another friend who sent a giant care package of snacks to make my life easier.
And blessings upon the cowboy hat.
Anyway, all that and more is why I did not share a recipe last week or write anything at all, and also why I have not been cooking, and the whole experience was such a good reminder of all timing right timing.
It all works out. Or: What if it all works out?
Or: What if some of it works out? Miracles abound.
There are so many things on my mind
There are so many things on my mind, I’m just going to tell you what they are.
I am thinking about follow the instructions, they work, or the superpower of sticking to the protocols.
I am thinking about miracles, faith and observing.
And about time, and grief, and remembering, and trusting, and about the detours being good, actually.
About the superpower of what if nothing is wrong even when everything is going very wrong.
The beautiful thing about being wrong
I believed my entire world was falling apart and also was panicking about all the unanticipated expenses
and yet what was actually happening was something different.
There were beautiful miracles, and I was held in sanctuary.
Isn’t that something…
(The parenthetical asides)
Of course I get this concept of what if nothing is wrong is not or might not be applicable in many situations, and certainly I do not mean to apply it in the context of the terrible things going on in the world.
I just mean that I truly thought everything was going wrong last week, for me specifically, and also: I was wrong.
Which is kind of beautiful. I was wrong, and that too was a miracle.
And now it is November? It is November!
Now I am trying to get a handle on November after October broke me into little pieces.
I don’t know if it was the three weeks of no running water, the shock and horror of October 7, the dread of what we all knew would come next, or chronic illness kicking my ass so spectacularly that I spent most of the month in bed, or an unpleasant interaction with a handyman that lit up all my boundary issues at once.
October is also the anniversary of my mother’s death, and her birthday, it is the anniversary of my wedding and also of when we separated, it is the anniversary of when my kitchen caught on fire two years ago. And probably other hard things I am forgetting
All of the above, and then some.
Tenses / I am tensing
I dealt with the various tensions and struggles of October with bed rest, listening to Israeli radio, and binge-watching Justified, which is very violent, but somehow was the distraction and well of clues that I needed.
Raylan Givens, the dry cowboy marshall in Justified said, “The past is a statement, the future is a question…”
But then a favorite Israeli singer, Berry Sakharov said: “The future is chasing you, the present is the present.”
So which is it, which tense are we in?
The tension tense
The tense situation with the handyman who came to get the water back on was worse after the fact. I could feel the many memories being called up to the surface.
Can memories emerge upward and descend at the same time? The future is a question or the future is chasing you, or both, and the present is a hurtling of memories through space and time. So really, reliving the past, like it or not. In layers.
Layered ptsd from these small tense moments (tense like tension, present tense, past tense?), small moments but they are not small because they are many, and because of the reminders they carry.
Small moments that do not even make my Top 500 list when it comes to trauma but somehow managed to send me spiraling like I’m reliving the Top 10.
What do we know?
So, what do we know?
First, now is not then.
And: I am safe.
And also: yes, I feel mega fucked up, which is part of how this works.
To quote Sakharov again, in a different song: Wave upon wave comes the pain, a broken heart, a whole heart.
Which might be the ultimate depressive breakup song, but it works in this context too.
Remembering what is important, remembering is important
That’s good to remember, that I am safe.
I am safe, both because I just am, and because I am held in miracles, as this week demonstrated.
To quote another song, by Ivri Lider, because I have been listening to Israeli radio and am on a nostalgia kick: “Tell me a little about your fear, it will be so much easier if we can be afraid together…”
Yes, okay, we can do this together. It is scary, a scary time and there are many unknowns, but I trust your good heart and hope you trust mine.
Follow the instructions
Follow the protocols.
Bed. Slow figure eights on the carpet. One step and then the next step. Make chai or hot chocolate. Sit down again.
Do what works.
(These are things that work for me, yours might be different.)
Follow the instructions, they work, and if they aren’t working, invent a new protocol, maybe.
Observing
Observation is such a good work, and such a good word.
Observing like dispassionate noticing, or compassionate noticing. Paying attention. Being present, and seeing what is true right now and what else is true right now.
Observing is a way to be a little removed, but still full of love and grace.
An observatory is where you can see all the stars, let us step into the observatory.
And observing is also a verb for practice, and for ritual. Isn’t that beautiful? I think it is.
Observing ritual
In that Halloween-adjacent episode of You Are Good that I referenced earlier, Sarah Marshall said something interesting:
“Haunting is forced remembrance.”
When we don’t remember or observe, we are asked to re-remember, maybe.
And I’d add that makes even more sense in a culture that doesn’t have enough grieving rituals.
Let them have this
I remember once, as a kid, complaining about decorations, I can’t remember exactly, but when people go overboard decorating their houses for Thanksgiving or whatever.
And my little brother, who was very wise and very small said, “Let them have this, they have so few holidays.”
It’s just true. We are limited in what we have to work with when we don’t have enough remembering times built in to the year.
This is why I love inventing holidays and feast days, for those tricky days in the calendar. The passage of time is the passage of time, but some days land harder than others. It’s good to have some sweetness waiting.
What are we remembering when we are being reminded
So I am thinking that an angel and a haunting are not so different.
That is, they exist to remind you of what was or could be.
“The future pursues us, the present is the present…”
So how do we want to be while we are remembering and healing?
Yet again the answer seems to be the same as it always is.
The same as it always is
Yet again the answer seems to be:
Be with it. Name it. Yes, this is scary, yes, this hurts, I don’t like these feelings, that’s okay.
And with that naming and observing, return to comfort, layer on comfort.
Return to ritual, return to comfort, return to pleasure.
Return to pleasure
Return to it and use it. Use pleasure.
Pleasure as the door (or a door) to presence and aliveness.
It’s an honor to play the game.
And: we can also always add some sweetness.
A clue to observe as well
Back to the show Justified, I give you this interaction:
“How long will this take?”
“Less than you fear and more than you hope”
I am taking this as a clue for all things, for coming down from my ptsd trip, for the return of the hostages, for a resolution to the horrors and cruelty of war, the suffering of civilians, the coming of miracles, the answers to questions, the resolution of whatever needs resolving.
I am observing this clue, both in the sense that I am gazing upon it, and in the sense that I am treating it like a ritual, something holy.
Less than you fear, more than you hope
I would have preferred that the plumbing fix not take three weeks to resolve, and that it had been less expensive, but also less than I fear, more than I hope.
Similarly, I would prefer that it not take a month of bed rest to recover from literally anything, but also that’s the reality I’m currently in.
Maybe it will change as I observe it.
(Towards hope)
I don’t want to talk about the ongoing horrors in Gaza and in Israel, it’s exhausting to grieve so many things at once, but I will quietly point in the direction of the latest piece by Etgar Keret called Israel in 600 words. He is voicing what is in my heart, just more succinctly and powerfully than I ever could.
And I will say that I am torn apart in grief by all of it, as so many of us are. I wish comfort and ease for everyone there, and also for our poor tender hearts.
May grace and love and sanctuary come in to interrupt this nightmare and change the future for the better of everyone involved, I don’t know how, but that is what I am praying. May this wish have all the support it needs to thrive, and then some.
Hello November
I’ll be honest, it’s been a rough passage into November but that will not stop me from asking, what is November for?
In beautiful miracles, the handyman I did not enjoy interacting with (understatement) got the leak fixed, and now I have running water in my home, and more than that, I have hot water, in both kitchen and bathroom, which is a huge life upgrade.
Sadly the shower still does not work, and I am never letting any of these men back in my house again, so that is something to solve for another day.
But maybe November is for being too tough to care about that, I will focus on getting more washcloths, run luscious cowboy spa days with a bucket, something will work out, something better.
I have faith. I have faith because I have been observing the miracles, and because what else is there.
November is for…
What am I calling on? What am I calling up? What am I calling in?
Let’s start with some of these…
- Positive Anticipation
- Rituals that comfort & delight
- Cultivate the dream wishes
- Follow the instructions, they work / use the protocols
- Miracles, faith and observing (all meanings, to witness, to notice, to practice)
- Spiced hot chocolate, for example…
The more I think about my wishes, the more I think a lot of them are about being less reactive, just not assuming that anything is bad just because it looks that way.
The superpower of can I roll with it
And something about the superpower of, what is this called, like, can I roll with seemingly bad news?
For example, yes I had a plumbing nightmare and my arm stopped working and the tire exploded, but also everything was fine, I am fine, it is okay. Can I maintain hope-faith-trust-love in being okay for now?
More November wishes
God I want a haircut.
And cozy morning rituals, like an elaborate and luscious hot beverage, made in my favorite cheery pot.
Pepper on everything.
Dreaming of a cowboy bath house.
And to get more electric to the tiny house so I can heat more than one room, amen.
More energy, or more patience with myself when I am on empty, or both really.
What else
I am still thinking about what Alex Steed said (“What is grief but a haunting?”) and about rituals for safe remembering, for softening and adding sweetness.
Observing the rituals (practice), and observing the pain (presence, compassion, bearing witness).
Witnessing is another form of observing
While I was listening to Israeli radio, they read a song dedication to the person I know who is among the hostages, his girlfriend was taken too, which I did not know. And I also knew the person giving the song dedication, because the world is small.
They talked about how he’d just celebrated his dad’s 70th birthday, there was a big outdoor party, and how happy he was. A snapshot in time: look, a happy moment.
I said to a friend that I feel so helpless, so not-of-use, like what does it mean to hear these words on the radio from so far away.
Grief becomes a wormhole in time
But she said, “Your text reads like a poem about the way that horrific acts like this can rip through time and space, connecting so many paradoxical feelings. Grief becomes a wormhole. You are bearing witness and I do believe that bearing witness matters. I believe that the world is better (even if only in the smallest way) because you were there to hear that song dedication.”
What is grief but a haunting, and what is observing if not pausing in such a way that you are the one to hear the words at the exact right moment…
The present is the present is the present, but everything is open.
Add sweetness
I am thinking about how people make art in trying times, or find comforts in moments of hardship.
The ways we cultivate joy and small moments of pleasure and meaning.
A few weeks ago I wrote about Operation Winter Cheer and how I am searching for all pleasure sources to make it through the long cold winter alone by the forest, and I think I am going to get really into s’mores, but with homemade gluten-free gingersnaps or chai snickerdoodles, dark chocolate, vegan marshmallows…
I don’t know why I am clinging to this, but I am. Indoor s’mores is my winter obsession, I am deeply convinced that everything will be substantially better with s’mores.
And maybe it will or maybe it won’t, but it’s a beautiful wish, and a small but meaningful experiment.
Maybe it will help and maybe it won’t
If it doesn’t help, then at least we tried something.
We tried something, and we will be brave and try something else. That’s the practice, right?
Love an experiment. Love knowing there is something to try.
Knowing? Remembering. That’s the practice too, isn’t it.
If it doesn’t help, then something else will, because miracles abound, and I am here to observe them.
Miracles abound. I’m here to observe them.
Come play in the comments, I appreciate the company
You are welcome to share anything that sparked for you while reading, or anything that helped or anything on your mind.
Or anything you’d like to toss into the wishing pot, the healing power of the collective is no small thing, companionship always helps.
You can wish any wishes that come to mind (come to heart?), or echo “Oh wow, what beautiful wishes!” for my wishes or anyone else’s.
I’m happy you’re here with me.
Bonus question
I’m making progress on bonus material about how I relate to time and map out my quarters, let me know if there anything you want to know more about specifically? Drop any questions or thoughts here…
Anyone who gives to Barrington’s Discretionary (see below) will get these by email as soon as I finish editing, I hope soon.
A request
If you received clues or perspective or want to send appreciation for the writing and work/play we do here, I appreciate it tremendously. Working on some stuff to offer this coming year, but between traumatic brain injury recovery & Long Covid, slow going.
I am accepting support (with joy & gratitude) in the form of Appreciation Money to Barrington’s Discretionary Fund. Asking is not where my strength resides but Brave & Stalwart is the theme these days, and pattern-rewriting is the work, it all helps with fixing the many broken things.
And if those aren’t options, I get it, you can light a candle for support (or light one in your mind!), share this with someone who loves words, tell people about these techniques, approaches and themes, send them here, it all helps, it’s all welcome, and I appreciate it and you so much. ❤️
the way we hold tiny hope sparks
The way we hold tiny hope sparks
A breath for this topic.
Before even beginning
I wanted to write about the way we hold tiny hope sparks, in hands and in hearts, and a wish about cultivating hope like a plant, or like tending to a fire, from spark to spark, can hope grow and how does it grow…
But first I need to write about the painful things that are so painful, the hard and, I hope, the good, if we get to it, but maybe that’s a hope spark too.
As always, but somehow more so right now, I am glad you are here. I am glad we are here, even if I have not been able to say much lately.
Hi sweet friends / entry
Hi sweet friends, people who read what I write here, I did not show up here (or anywhere) last week because I simply could not.
And I was going to just tell you that, then, and I could not even do that, and I am sorry about not having words, not even a few words to explain about not having words.
Actually I was feeling not great about any of that, but then Etgar Keret, one of my very favorite writers, wrote in his newsletter this week that he also has not been writing, has not been able to write, he said:
“Words had suddenly felt empty, and my heart had dried up.”
Words empty, heart dried up, yes, that is the gist of it.
Empty & dried up
I think that sums up where I have been and what I have been doing, or really, not doing.
Not sleeping, not eating, not writing, not anything.
Not particularly lucid, not particularly capable. Unable to show up in any way, because grief, sorrow and worry have emptied me of the ability to communicate.
What a week, my loves
What a week. Are we okay, maybe not, probably not, I am not.
But I am here. Let’s get into it.
Actually let me first say this
I hope you are somewhere cozy and safe, a sanctuary space for you, and that everyone you love in this cruel messy world is safe, or will be soon.
And if that is sadly not the case, then I am glowing love, support, strength, or whatever it is that you need.
And before I even give all the boring necessary qualifications that sadly do need to be qualified and expressed in words because of the way this world works, I’m just going to start with this:
Do you want to hear my favorite holocaust joke?
Do you want to hear my favorite holocaust joke?
If you don’t have a favorite holocaust joke, this can be yours too, you’re welcome.
And if you don’t yet understand why so many holocaust jokes exist for this to be an option, or why you’d want a favorite holocaust joke to begin with, well I don’t know what to tell you. Maybe the joke itself will explain.
In fact, if I had to explain Jewish humor to aliens I would start with this joke, because I think it might be the most representative of how we deal with trauma.
Okay, here is the premise of the joke: that Elie Wiesel (1928-2016), famous holocaust survivor and writer who wrote about being a Jewish prisoner at Auschwitz and Buchenwald, has just died. Yes?
Nu
Elie Wiesel dies, goes to ha’olam haba, the world to come, the afterlife, whatever that is, call it heaven if you like even though Jews don’t really think that way. And it’s a big deal because it’s Elie Wiesel.
So god godself comes out to greet him personally.
They look at each other for a while in silence and Elie Wiesel says nu (yiddish for “soo…”), and god also says nu…
Awkward silence. Finally Elie Wiesel says: Well, tell me your best holocaust joke. And god goes, WHAT.
Elie Wiesel: Your best holocaust joke, hit me with it, I want to hear it.
God says, I’m sorry, I can’t do that, there’s nothing funny about the holocaust.
And Elie Wiesel says: Huh, guess you had to be there.
Talk to me about not
Yes, talk to me about not, tell me how not to sink into the pits of despair. What are the secrets of not-sinking…
I keep listening to this song by James from the album Laid, a favorite 1993 album, Say Something.
Say something say something, anything, your silence is deafening…
I say this to myself when I don’t have words, or maybe I have them but can’t bear to let them into the world.
And I say it to the radio, waiting to hear word that the hostages taken by Hamas terrorists have been returned, alive, please. Alive, please.
Say something, say something, anything
Say something, say something, anything.
Tell me how to stay out of the pits of despair, to emerge from the pits of despair, I do not know how.
Tell me what I can hope for. Tell me that I can have hope again.
The pre-qualifications
Oh right, I was supposed to give pre-qualifications, in order to not be misunderstood by what I say next, because there is a lot of misunderstanding and being misunderstood going around, as well as a lot of people who are not pre-qualifying their stances, whatever those may be.
And sometimes not pre-qualifying a stance results in that stance being pretty horrifying. Pre-qualifications matter, I think. For clarity, and for us to be able to reach across barriers, both real and perceived.
Here are mine..
Here are mine
Like all progressive, left-wing Israelis, my friends and family included, I remain passionately against the Israeli Occupation of the West Bank and Gaza, against the brutality, cruelty and racism that characterize many actions of the Israeli army, particularly of mishmar ha’gvul which is the Israeli version of Border Patrol, and much like the American version, a lot of bad apples in that barrel.
Like everyone I know in Israel, I have been to dozens of protests there against the Israeli Occupation, these protests take place constantly, though I have not once seen mention of this in American media.
Like every progressive left-wing Israeli I know aka pretty much everyone I know there, my heart is with Palestinians in their pursuit of sovereignty, safety, self-determination; my heart breaks for their suffering.
I despise Netanyahu, a corrupt fascist, and Ben-Gvir, a religious fascist, a true believer, which is worse, and hope dearly that their fall from power will be swift and permanent.
And I understand and continue to believe, both because I just do and because I have to, that Hamas, a brutal terrorist organization, does not and cannot represent the wishes of the majority of Palestinians, who of course want and deserve to live their lives in peace.
As many of you know, I was able to get out of serving in the Israeli army, and I would not have stayed there had I not been fortunate enough to have that option.
(I hope not)
Do I further need to qualify things? I hope not. Do you need to know how I voted in every election there? I mean, I can tell you, though I don’t think it matters.
It is important for me to say these things because I think everyone should know where I stand in general.
And at the same time it hurts my heart that I feel obligated to say them first, that I have to say these things as a preface, that I cannot express my pain and distress over the Israeli captives, survivors, the dead and the people who love them without carefully delineating where I stand on the broad issues.
Things are very grim, my friends
I am hurting. I am hurting so much. I assume you are too. The news is so grim.
The massacre in Israel by Hamas. The Palestinians who were already suffering harm now suffering even more harm from the as-expected Israeli response. The awful, horrifying hate crimes and threats of hate crimes here in the United States where I am and in other places around the world, it is so much, for all of us.
So much pain, and too much to be able to take, the hurt is too intense, too close to home.
Where I’m at (emotionally?)
The terrible massacre by Hamas at the music festival on Saturday, October 7, some have called it a pogrom, which feels accurate, took place in my former back yard, by Re’im, next to Urim.
I have hiked there many times, I have been to the place where Hamas murdered over two hundred and fifty young people, kidnapped some, bodies still being found a week later.
I will not speak to the other atrocities that happened there.
Similarly, I will not describe the scene at Kisufim & Be’eri, places I have visited with friends, quiet peaceful communities where Israelis were tortured and murdered in horrifying ways, I have seen video of the burnt and bloody homes after the bodies were removed. I have seen more than I ever wish to see again.
Lighting a candle
The town I lived in and called home was miraculously evacuated in time, my close friends and extended family are safe, though many of their friends were murdered, and someone we know is among the captives, each day I light a candle for his safe release and return home.
Though of course that home no longer exists, everyone has scattered.
What is home? Where was god?
You had to be there. You weren’t there. I wasn’t there, and I feel very fucked up about that, specifically.
The ongoing panic, among other things
Caught up with a friend I haven’t heard from in twenty years. One of his extended family members is among the abducted too. My friend’s kids are having panic attacks. I get it.
I get it. I don’t know what to do.
Lighting a candle, what else can I do?
Ten breaths, and then ten more. We are strong, we are tough, one step and then the next step.
Shock
I have to say that I am still entirely in a state of shock, a week and a half later. Waiting to wake up to a different reality.
At the hardware store, trying to resolve my various plumbing woes, no one is crying, no one is upset, it is just a regular day for everyone.
And I resent them because they don’t know about the absolutely gruesome things I have learned about and will not describe here or ever, the horrors that were enacted, with great intentionality, by Hamas, to friends of my friends. Or of the bravery of the people who did what they could to save others.
Gathering
Meanwhile I have to gather myself together in the car because I am mostly too distraught to function.
I sweep myself up like shards in a dustpan, I don’t see a way to be put back together. But that’s what the hope sparks are for.
For the first week of the war, I wasn’t able to get more than three hours of sleep a night, and never all at once.
Unfortunately I don’t eat enough to begin with, and have been really falling down on that front lately. Nothing appeals. I suppose that is an element of shock too.
What I’ve been doing
What have I been doing actually, other than crying, lighting candles, checking on friends and family, staring blankly, not-writing?
Vacillating between overdosing on news and no news. For the first week, I watched Israeli television streaming, all day every day, switching to radio when it was too much, then music radio with a brief hourly news moment when that was too much.
Then I took three days to decompress and refused to interact with any news at all. Just music.
Avoiding social media. I am sure that the various takes are as unhelpful as they are many, and I do not wish to interact with them.
Oh, and hauling water from a hydrant, because I am having a plumbing emergency that no one can fix, and water to my home has been shut off for eleven days now, with no solution in sight.
Anyway, I don’t want to talk about that either, so let’s find our way, somehow, to something better…
The epistemological instinct
My friend who is finishing a PhD in psychology offered this:
“It’s maybe not helpful, but psychoanalysis writes about the ‘epistemological instinct’ as one of our self preservation instincts and a defense against anxiety. That desire to KNOW is so powerful.”
Yes, so there’s that. It is not helpful for me to soak up more and more bad news, and also there is the part of me who desires to know, as if knowing will tell me something. Say something, say something, anything.
Here is something, too
Perhaps it is naive the way I continue to hold this hope spark in my hands, the hope spark of someday peace, peace is possible, we can figure this out somehow, someday. The way I insist on holding onto hope, even now, especially now.
But I do. I never thought I would see Israel have peace with Jordan or Egypt in my lifetime, and yet both of these came to pass. Other miraculous things can come to pass as well. I will keep whispering to the spark of hope, saying live, live, thrive.
And I always return to the beautiful friendship between Etgar Keret and Sayed Kashua, two writers I admire, and the story that Keret wrote for his friend in another scary time, called A Story With A Happy Ending, which you can (and should, please) read here.
Hope sparks, in general
The hope sparks that I hold, tend to and cultivate in times of hopelessness and at all times are not just related to this particular, devastating-for-everyone, terrifying and grim situation of grief and despair.
Oh no, I hold hope sparks for all sorts of things.
Still I cherish
Even in a pandemic where I am severely immunocompromised, very ill, and it hurts my heart to see how the world moved on and almost no one is doing anything to keep me safe, not even a symbolic gesture.
Even in a climate emergency in which we can see ourselves hurtling swiftly in real time towards each new point of no return. Free fall, nothing to be done, and still I cherish these tiny hope sparks.
Even living where I do in the southwestern United States where Border Patrol enacts terrible cruelties on people seeking refuge and asylum, with no consequence, no matter who we vote for.
Terrible things are happening, hope-defying terrible things, and still I breathe new life into my hope sparks.
Breathing life, hope sparks
This is what I keep coming back to, how the practice of hope sparks and finding small good things in the moment is both hard and brave. And important.
Where can I find hope and how can I tend to my hope hearth. Breathing life, hope sparks.
Breathing: life.
Hope: sparks.
Breathing life and hope into all the challenges, large and small
Even when relatively small things (getting running water set up again in my house please) feel entirely hopeless, I know there will be a way, I’m just not there yet.
I haul buckets, breathe and hope, breathe and hope. One step and then the next step.
What helps me stay grounded and centered amidst this great despair (political, environmental, health), and the smaller daily despair pits and pitfalls?
What helps
Trying very hard not to sink into the pits of despair (though mostly have been hanging out there), and to focus on the known things that help. Known small things.
Known small things to interrupt the cycle of grief rage terror sorrow despair, for example:
- Clean dishes.
- Hydrating. Washing my hair.
- Wrapping up in blankets. Slow stretching on the rug.
- Movie night.
- Looking at the sky.
- Sixteen breaths.
- Asking how much of this pain is mine…
- Crying some more, yawning it out, release release release release.
And this, too
Friends have been reaching out to me with kind and helpful words.
For example: “Havi, this feels a like a week when it is absurd to ask how you are doing, but I am thinking of you and I have some pictures of dogs in hoodies for you.”
And: “Hi my dear. It’s too horrifying to talk about …there are no words. So just sending an embrace of comfort, letting you know you are in my mind and heart.”
It helps. It is very lonely to be in this state of grim despair, but people know that I’m there and they stop by.
It helps.
Returning to the hope spark that I cultivate in my heart
A song playing on Israeli radio in the background, “even if all the stars show there’s reason to worry, there’s still no reason to despair”, that’s something too.
Trying to find small hope sparks where I can even though it is harder than ever.
It’s necessary, and it’s how we survive.
And part of hope spark life, this devotion to hope sparks, is knowing or at least remembering that the hope sparks will return even when I can’t see them or remember what they look like and feel like.
HOPE. SPARK. LIFE.
It’s part faith, part luck, part practice, part repetition.
Part faith, part luck, part practice, part repetition
Let’s keep trying.
Let’s keep pointing our hope sparks towards something better for everyone.
Let’s hope as hard as we can when we can, and care for ourselves lovingly when we can’t. Faith, luck, practice, repetition, or whatever works for you.
Let’s keep trying, let’s keep going.
Come play in the comments, I appreciate the company
You are welcome to share anything that sparked for you while reading, or anything that helped or anything on your mind.
Or anything you’d like to toss into the wishing pot, the healing power of the collective is no small thing, companionship always helps.
You can wish any wishes that come to mind (come to heart?), or echo “Oh wow, what beautiful wishes!” for my wishes or anyone else’s.
I’m happy you’re here with me.
Bonus question
I’m making progress on bonus material about how I relate to time and map out my quarters, let me know if there anything you want to know more about specifically? Drop any questions or thoughts here…
Anyone who gives to Barrington’s Discretionary (see below) will get these by email as soon as I finish editing, I hope soon.
A request
If you received clues or perspective or want to send appreciation for the writing and work/play we do here, I appreciate it tremendously. Working on some stuff to offer this coming year, but between traumatic brain injury recovery & Long Covid, slow going.
I am accepting support (with joy & gratitude) in the form of Appreciation Money to Barrington’s Discretionary Fund. Asking is not where my strength resides but Brave & Stalwart is the theme these days, and pattern-rewriting is the work, it all helps with fixing the many broken things.
And if those aren’t options, I get it, you can light a candle for support (or light one in your mind!), share this with someone who loves words, tell people about these techniques, approaches and themes, send them here, it all helps, it’s all welcome, and I appreciate it and you so much. ❤️