Friday chicken

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

It is Friday Saturday and we are here.

Or maybe it is Sunday if you are in Europe, or Australia/New Zealand where it has been Sunday for a while, and yes, we are here.

{a breath for for being here right now}

All the stuff I’ve been through lately landed all at once, and I’ve been in bed for the last couple days, so there’s that. Let’s Chicken. It’s a Finicky Card, eh? More about that in a second…

What worked this week?

The east wind.

The magical east wind that blows everything apart so that it can reconfigure into something new.

This was a helpful concept for me in all things this week, especially when it came to knocking things down. Also useful in perceived moments of falling apart.

It was also fun to work with in the form of anagrams. I have always loved anagrams, but this is the first time I realized they are essentially the east wind in action. Destruction can be playful. Reconfiguration can be joyful.

This was a big help after Rally (Rally!), when I always feel the need to do a ton of Congruencing, or, in anagram form: the Unconcern Gig.

And it was great for things I was avoiding:

  • Changing Sheets became Change The Signs
  • Fold Laundry became Lady Lord Fun. Or: Fa Drolly Dun. Ooh, a really good one: Odd Rally Fun!
  • Hand Wash Clothes became Slow Chanted Hash or Lash The Cowhands or Hatches And Howls or Who Handles Chats!
  • Friday Chicken became Archfiend Icky, Yack Inched Fir, Dear Finch Icky, Ready Fin Chick, Fad Cynic Hiker, Chef Nick Diary, Chick Fairy Den, If A Nerdy Chick, Cafe Cry Hid Ink, Chef Dinky Car I. So many choices. All perfectly good fake bands. My personal favorite of the moment: Finicky Card, Eh? That basically sums up how I feel about everything.

Next time I might…

Remind myself about process.

This week was devoted to a giant writing project, and my monsters had lots of “feedback”, not (oddly enough) about the perceived quality of the writing, about other things.

So I’d spend the first half of each day in the resistance, in the not-wanting, and then around 3pm, magic: I’d have three gorgeous hours of uninterrupted writing where I had all the right words.

Next time I’d like to spend the Resistance Hours celebrating the resistance. Look at me, clearing space for later. Look at me, having as many naps as I’d like. Look at me, trusting the process. Look at me, finding out about all the rules I have about writing.

I’m going to Join The Resistance! It’s kind of a proxy, and kind of an inside joke, and it’s working for me. In the meantime, trust trust trust trust and more trust.

Eight breaths for the hard, challenging and mysterious.

  1. Wiped out. I knew this was coming, with the trip to Detroit and the discovery about the Spy, and various other things, and now it’s here. A breath for deep healing.
  2. I’ve never had a relationship end badly before. That sounds kind of crazy, and I wouldn’t have agreed with that statement a month ago: I’ve had plenty of endings that came with awful amounts of sadness. Just never, I don’t know, I’ve never wanted to erase all traces of something before. This is new. A breath for letting this all go.
  3. Waiting. A breath for comfort.
  4. Wanting things that are not here. A breath and a candle.
  5. Some useful and uncomfortable insights, like holes in the wall of a cabin, letting light in. It’s time for the cabin to come down, and I need to get used to this. A breath for release.
  6. This was not a great dance week for me, though there were some sweet moments. A breath for the thing I am passionate about.
  7. Too many projects. A breath for passage.
  8. Inhale, exhale. Goodbye, mysteries and hard moments of this week.

Eight breaths of good, reassuring, delight-filled.

  1. My wonderful housemate who listens without judging, makes me smoothies, reads my writing, wants all the good things for me. A breath for true friendship.
  2. The miracle of this body. I said this last week, and it is still true. I am not liking having a cold, and at the same time, I have legs that walk, ears that hear, fingers that type. A breath for deep appreciation.
  3. WALTZ BRUNCH! My favorite dance in Portland, and one I have missed for several months due to traveling. It is just as much fun as I remembered. Plus I got to practice leading! A breath for pleasure and delight.
  4. Audrey was in Portland for twenty four hours! Which, while not nearly enough Audrey, is so much better than the usual thing of no-Audrey! And: she came to Waltz Brunch so she could see me! And she brought Baden and this was good. A breath for friendship, play and delight.
  5. Wednesday night dance, still my favorite night of the week. I got to dance with someone I hardly ever get to see, play with friends, be silly, try things, experiment, do some new moves. A breath for happiness and knowing what I want more of.
  6. Twitter. I have not really been hanging out at the Twitter bar this year, and suddenly it was fun again. A breath for unexpected happy surprises.
  7. My scary writing project turned out beautifully. I finished all the parts I needed to finish, and they are all amazing! A breath for the secret gifts of Rally (Rally!), and the wonderful thing that is the creative process.
  8. Appreciation and thankfulness. Rally Q was full of Queenliness and Quiet, and worked a deep magic. Joining the Resistance was fun. Flurrying is good. A giant fun package of monster-covered notebooks and mysterious popsicle erasers arrived from Australia: THANK YOU. Walking in the park makes everything better. So does taking it to the bath. Luke was right: it’s really all about panache. I am okay, and I am going to be okay, and I trust that every aspect of these hard learning is useful. Nothing is wrong. Now is not then. So many things are good. A breath for deep appreciation in my thank-you heart.

WHAM BOOM! Operations completed.

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

I am a Wham Boom rockstar this week, which is hilarious because my monster crew is like, “you are the worst and you got nothing done and everything is late and everyone hates you”.

Except, let’s actually look at this. I got 184 pages of editing done in TWO DAYS, fastest YEARbook edits ever! And the feedback on the book is amazing. And then I wrote another ebook at Rally, to be edited soon. So, yeah. Operation Xs and Ys is done, Operation Sip Hint Learn the First is done, many other things are done. Wham Boom.


Powers I had this week…

The power of having the right words at the right time.

Superpowers I want.

The powers of Wildly Confident, Wonderfully Peaceful, Trusting in the Moment, Choosing Pleasure.

Salve. The Salve of a Hug In A Box.

Here is a Reusable Hug Box.

It is a tiny box with a heart on it and inside is a beautiful piece of paper that says HUG.

It is a message wrapped like a gift. It is a moment of remembering that you are loved, still loved, more loved, as if all the love from all the different sources, no matter how forgotten, can suddenly land. In pure form, without expectations, rules or desires, just love.

This salve is like opening a hug box. It soothes and eases, softens and releases.

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

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

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

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

This band is from the anagram generator and it’s called Yack Inched Fir, which is secretly the Friday Chicken, they’re first album is called Turn Down Fir What, I know, it’s hilarous, and they look like a Seattle grunge band but they’re actually from Tennessee, and as it turns out, it is just one guy.


So I love Dear Kate underthings because they are magic, and they turn the least glamorous part of my month into a reasonably-glamorous and much less stressful experience. And now they are making workout pants, which is going to make all of my life better. Support their Go Commando kickstarter before it ends.

Attenzione! Attention, AGENTS.

I am deep in an undercover mission to get better at receiving in all forms, or as I’m calling it: Glowing Receptivity and Being Receptive to Glow. Including the skill of gracefully accepting thanks.

It is related to my mission of Coming Out Of All The Closets and sharing about my personal experiences with not-sharing-how-hard-things-are.

If you would like to take a part in this and support me on my mission by sharing sweetness and appreciation for any aspect of my work, I would love that. You can do it with the magic of words, through the comments, or add something to Barrington’s Discretionary fund. (Explanation!)

And if the way you are glowing appreciation is quietly in your heart, I like that too. ♡

Come play if you like…

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

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

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

Shabbat shalom.

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

The Fluent Self