I am one.

Which is weird, because I spent the first couple decades of my life thinking anything even remotely business-related was extremely icky. At best.

But for reasons that I don’t understand*, I am like Rain Man. But for business.

*Actually, I kind of do understand, because I’m pretty sure it’s all the years of having Dance of Shiva restructure my brain.

It’s kind of creepy.

I don’t know how I know these things. I just know them.

Like this week at Barbara’s retreat. I knew what every single person needed to be doing in her business.

And it’s not like …. oh, the normal, conventional things. Most the time it’s not even things I’ve ever heard before. I just know.

Of course, I also know that most people aren’t going to apply it, but that’s more of a Cassandra thing than a Rain Man thing.

That’s not important right now. What’s important is that even without having bizarre intuitive superpowers, you can grow your thing.

You can grow your thing through the kind of biggification that happens in a really mindful way. Through the growth that comes from having agreed to work on your stuff.

And through knowing where you come from.


As you know, I started my business from nothing.

But really from nothing.

I’ve posted about this all over the place, so I won’t bore you again with the details (no, wait, I will, living-in-a-semi-squat-in-Berlin-with-no-heat really is not fun), but yes.

I started the whole thing with my last 15 euros and they weren’t even mine.

And since I thought that making money was gross, there were possibly some problems with my plan.

The thing about coming from poverty that is really, really good is that it made me a fierce risk-taker. I see some of my clients terrified to do anything until they’ve built up say, a $30,000 cushion, and I think cushion? What’s that?

But the thing about coming from poverty that is really, really hard is that it’s very difficult to have a biggified perspective about anything.

Because what you know is so very, very small.

You have to have a sense of what’s possible before you can start biggifying.

It’s pretty hard to accomplish anything in business when your conception of what is possible is narrow, stuckified, and limited as hell.

When I started my business, I couldn’t imagine earning more than two thousand dollars a month. EVER. Like, at the peak of success. And even that seemed like a completely obscene thing to want. A guilty wish.

All those years working behind a bar in some dive in south Tel Aviv had created … narrowness.

There is nothing beyond survival. You either sell your soul or you don’t, but if you don’t (and I couldn’t) you can’t do more than tread water. And that is the entirety of what is real.

Flash forward five years. Not only is my own business thriving to the point that my gentleman friend was able to quit his job, but the limits on what I can imagine possible are pretty out there.

Not just financially, but in every way. Not just for me and my duck, but for my clients, my students, and all the neat people I meet.

Biggification without mindfulness is pretty useless, though.

If you ask me, the most important thing you can do in a business situation is work on your stuff.

This is also true if you’re growing your thing in a non-business-ey way. Like, if your thing is your poetry or your art or your teaching, and you don’t think of it as something that might become a business.

Either way. You have a thing (your thing!) and you want it to grow (even if some of the time you don’t because it’s scary).

Pretty much none of the stucknesses that come up in this process of growing your thing are connected to the thing itself, or to the practical aspects of making the thing happen.

Most of the stuckness is about your stuff wanting attention.

Which is legitimate, yes? That’s what your stuff does. And that’s why interacting with your stuff in an intelligent, conscious way is the best way to start biggifying.

Or to start being slightly less afraid of eventually biggifying.

Mindful biggification is way, way better than any other kind of biggification. Because you’re destuckifying as you go. You’re taking care of yourself. It’s important.

Where I’m taking this right now.

I’ve been thinking a lot this week about what I can do to give other people what I know.

Not the intuitive stuff — I don’t know how to teach that yet.

But I want to give people more than just go become a Shivanaut! Though yeah, that’s an important part of it too.

I want to contribute to the essential vocabulary of how business is done. Good business, non-icky business of the kind that my right people are interested in.

And I’m feeling both anxious and excited about that.

Because the stuff Selma and I have to teach is really freaking counter-intuitive. What I know to be true goes so completely against the grain. Against what all the boring experts say.

And even against what some of my friends-who-are-experts-and-not-even-slightly-boring say.


Expect that we’ll be talking a lot, as always, about working on your stuff and how that relates to biggification.

Expect some manifesto-ing it up for the dammit list.

And don’t expect any explanation of how I know this stuff. Because it just comes into my head. And then I do it. And then it works. And then I make my clients and students do it. And that works too. I can’t explain more than that.

But I’ll share what I can. Because it’s important.

Comment zen for today.

Hmm. Biggification = full o’ triggers. I hope it’s been really clear that I have my own share of stucknesses around this, and that I really do recognize how scary it is to work on this stuff or even to talk about it. That’s it. We’re all practicing.

The Fluent Self