very personal ads

I write a Very Personal Ad (also known as a Vision of Possibility & Anticipation) each week to practice wanting, listening, getting clear on my desires

the point isn’t getting my wish (though cool things have emerged from wishing), it’s learning about my relationship with wanting, accessing the qualities

wanting can be hard, it is easy to feel conflicted about it, and the reasons for that make this a surprisingly subversive practice…

this is the 357th consecutive week of wishing, come play!


lately I have been spending a great amount of time
balanced on a stepladder
cleaning decades of grime off of walls and ceilings
immersed in — and fascinated by — the process of removing cobwebs
though really, sometimes, often, this feels less like removing
and more like transferring cobwebs from where they currently live
into my hair

I also have white streaks of paint primer in my hair
which I didn’t notice
because my hair streaks white anyway
and also because I am a mess

(but a hot mess, insists the visiting far-away boy with a grin,
and yes, okay, I am quite possibly all interpretations of a hot mess right now)


there is an odd-funny thing about cleaning
or maybe not about cleaning, but about
this intense interaction with decades of accumulated dust
it seems as though no matter what you do
the dirt just sort of gets moved around
clearly this is an impossible task
an aegean stables situation
(immortal horses who can shit faster than you can shovel)

it requires immense trust
as you release all this trapped gunk
to believe that it will in fact clear out


I think a lot about the relationship between internal and external space
pretty much all the time actually
how making a change in one can impact the other
and how this change goes deep
and seeds other marvelous things

a deep knowing of my spaces, inside and out,
I mean, in a sense that’s what self fluency is


not fearing or avoiding any of the dark, dusty, forgotten
aspects of my internal kingdom
bringing light into the deepest corners
opening windows
breathing in newness

transforming neglected and abandoned spaces
into beautiful safe cozy hideouts
for all the past versions of me
gathering the lost bits and pieces of me
and making sure they have wonderfully safe homes
dedicated to recovery
in which to heal, rest, be appreciated, be known, blossom
safe space with sturdy doors and
[flowers everywhere]
or whatever makes them feel as full-hearted as I feel
when there are flowers everywhere


the beautiful faraway boy and I had a misunderstanding
the other morning
and then it was time to go clean walls
so I got to watch this interplay between internal and external space
in real time

I watched myself stir up dust in the space around me
I watched myself stir stew in my head

I watched myself unearth ancient-looking clumps of god knows what
I watched myself uncover old forgotten stories from Then
and saw which are the hurting parts of me who think that Now Is Then
even though Now Is Not Then


ofri loved me so much
he taped roses to my door in north tel aviv
and wrote me little poem-notes
I was charmed by his quiet, his giant smile
and grey hair even though he was only twenty seven
that still does it for me actually
I am such a sucker for early grey

he loved me he loved me he loved me
and then suddenly, inexplicably, one day he didn’t
and there was some preposterous unlikely explanation
like he wanted to focus on his acting career

I cried for weeks, bewildered,
my mother said: “oh well good riddance — he’s an actor
comforting was never really her thing
but of course now he has a million kids
and works at some painfully boring job
and posts inspirational quotes on facebook
so yeah, we dodged a bullet somewhere, sure,
and also I slept with his brother
just to be a jerk

and more then

her name was anat and we
held hands every day in the corridors at university
trying to make the walk between classes take as long as possible
I remember everything about her hand
and how it felt to be near her
we went on on a date and another date
and to a concert
and then
she was gone but I don’t know why

and even more then

someone was far away and loved me
and then they loved someone else instead:
a dancer who spoke german and owned six pairs of black boots
that’s all I know about my replacement
and now, two decades later,
I am a dancer who speaks german
and is also fond of boots
(two pairs, also black)
and that is the kind of thing you realize while
brushing away cobwebs
from walls and inside of the cave of lost memories
in your body-mind


there were other memories too
that revealed themselves as I
blew away dust
first with the shop vac left over from
the once-upon-a-time ballroom
then with dustpan and small blue broom
then with my lips

I saw my fear of being misunderstood (and resulting doom)
my fear of remembering and
my fear of being forgotten


I think sometimes, often,
my near perfect memory
is possibly more curse than blessing
or perhaps better to say it sometimes causes me pain
I can call up a moment or situation and re-experience
the entirety of a conversation, word for word,
each detail and gesture and
what everyone was wearing
where the sun was in the sky

then when the other person involved
says we never had this conversation
or that it went an entirely different way
I think they’re lying or gaslighting me
when actually they are just not [blessed/cursed] gifted
with perfect recall of every tiny aspect of every interaction ever


this mistaken belief I have that
[of course people will remember what we agreed — that’s how memory works!]
came with a six hundred dollars price tag this week
when the electrician installed migraine-inducing fluorescent shop lights
after we had agreed on something else entirely,
which I am probably not going to pay to fix but am still choosing to think of as
tuition for the school of how to be a functional adult,
where I am apparently still double-majoring in
sovereignty studies and
in “no, really, you have to get everything in writing”


I had to run away last week
which turned out to be the exact right thing to do
I found myself in the cheeriest kitchen
drinking ginger-something tea from a giant mug
with brand-new friends
the kitchen was painted the most marvelous and striking yellow
(this yellow maybe, or this one)
with crisp white trim

oh man I was falling so hard for this yellow
its unapologetic joy and richness
this yellow is so free-spirited, I thought

I wanted to be this vibrant yellow
the way I once wanted to be red
(this just made me laugh, because of course,
I wanted to be red and I wanted to be read)
I have never wanted to be yellow
but then again I’d never met a yellow like this before

later my new friend said about me
“she is such a free spirit and has such lovely energy”
external space meets internal space
clues everywhere

trust love

anyway back to the basement
I decided to stop revisiting the misunderstanding
and instead to focus on truth
letting truth-wisdom cycle through my mind
another form of cleaning out
instead of just trying to keep explaining in my head what I meant
truth says Trust Love
truth says May All Misunderstandings Dissolve In Love
truth says Shit Is Not About Me
truth says Everyone Has Their Stuff
and we all want to be received and accepted

I saw my stuff and his stuff
but mainly I saw my heart and someone else’s heart
desiring the same thing but in different words
I thought about what it means to want
your free-spirited wild essence
to be met with understanding and love
and what a beautiful vital thing it is to want this
and how vulnerable it can be to want it with someone

so I decided to devote all of my attention towards
making space for things to move
letting dust and memory cycle through
whatever they need to cycle through
to be able to exit


so there I was after eight hours of liberating dust-and-memories
from inside my head and from the walls and ceilings

brushing away dirt raises clouds
but/and/also: space can be transformed
light streams in
there is suddenly so much less to clear than before


I am a namer who names
and I make spaces
inside me and outside of me
and they want to be named
to reveal their names

right now this little basement practice space
is not a lair and not a hideaway and not a safe house
a favorite person calls it my den
which works in the sense that I am a fox
it is a changing room
a room where things change

empty and fill

I am learning everything I can about incoming me, who goes by Z,
Z devotes all attention and resources to one question:
what would take care of me most right now
Z says empty the cup to fill the cup

Z is the most zen adventurer
and Z knows how to do this
because Z excels at emptying cups and filling cups
emptying the [accumulated stress and micro-aggressions] cup
filling the cup of calm steady peace and joy

Z is a total sex bomb and wears flannel shirts
and likes to sit under the stars


many things resolved themselves this week
misunderstandings included
while I swept, dusted, painted, napped, sat under stars
I liked that Rachel reached a similar conclusion from plants
while I learned the same thing in a basement full of cobwebs


I don’t know exactly where this week’s wishes are headed
but you get a poem
with a wish in it
I am the poet emeritus of hiding wishes in a cracker jack box

what do I know about my wish

this is a wish about Crown On
being clear and intentional about my space
about how I am in my (emotional and physical) space
how I take care of myself there

this is a wish about where I put my attention
and how I can become someone who empties and fills
wholly unimpressed by dust
letting in light
rooting for love

may it be so!


on my way to washougal washington
with food, wine, and wild hope

the superpower of sexy fearless powerful presence

this month is WILD with its wild door, and sexy fearless powerful presence
thank you, past-me, for being such a good namer and calling this into being

I have been wilding hard, and this is right

last week’s wishes

last-week-me wished a wish called a new story

and was immediately given every possible opportunity
to let go of old stories
so that was interesting and challenging and useful
and I am glad

thank you, me who wished

invitation: come play with me…

you are invited to share many !!!!!! about what is here,
or share appreciation or anything sparked for you while reading, including any stories you wish to let go of, any adventures you wish to welcome

deposit wishes, gwishes, superpowers, qualities, ingredients, intel, possibly in code

safe space for creative exploration asks us to let go of care-taking and advice-giving

wishes are never late because whenever you wish is the right time for wishing

here’s how we meet each other’s wishes: oh, wow what beautiful wishes

The Fluent Self