It’s Sunday. I don’t have to have a point.

Tracing memories.

This past Tuesday I sent you all on a mission to reread and mock mercilessly brainstorm ways to revise an old post of mine as part of our whole ongoing Blogging Therapy series thing.

The post in question, among other things, recounts an episode from a few years ago, when my gentleman friend and I were in Berlin for two months and semi-accidentally landed this insanely great house-sitting gig.

Like, a house.

Well, two floors of a gorgeous old apartment building.

I know!

I’ve lived in pretty much every part of Berlin, in a huge variety of places … and while not all of them were semi-legal drag-king-inhabited squats in abandoned buildings, this place was pretty outrageous.

Actually, we were kind of afraid to touch anything because it was all way more fancypants than a. our place in San Francisco or b. pretty much anything we were used to.

And we were still kind of in awe that despite our incredibly stupid plan to go to Berlin for two months and just count on our ridiculously great “apartment luck”, it was totally working.

Get this.

One of the many oddly fabulous things about this place we were staying is that they had one room that was a trampoline room.

And when I say “trampoline room” I mean that the entire room, which was actually quite large, was taken up by this enormous trampoline.

This is Berlin we’re talking about so the ceilings are ten miles high. One wall was floor to ceiling windows through which you could see the tops of trees poking up. One wall was mirrored.

And the rest was trampoline.

I wish I had pictures because there is absolutely no way to adequately explain how insane this room was.

You know, we’d tell friends about it and they’d say “Whoah, that’s crazy. A trampoline room.” But then they’d come over for dinner and freak the hell out over the enormous room that was all trampoline.

Mixed feelings. Mixed everything.

Those two months for me were all about mixed feelings.

I was loving the Shiva Nata workshops I was teaching. But I was conflicted about where my Fluent Self business was going and whether there would still be room for yoga stuff and general wackiness within the coaching/consulting practice I was building.

I was loving being back in Berlin. And being there with my gentleman friend (we’d both been there many times separately but never together). But I was pretty much a wreck over meeting my ex.

Loving seeing old friends. Sad about saying goodbyes again.

Also, I was speaking more Hebrew than German because my ex and my best friend and a whole bunch of other people from Tel Aviv were in town at the same time.

And I was teaching in German and writing in English. And it was all … I don’t know.

Anyway, it was jumbled, tumultuous times. And for all sorts of reasons, the jumbled, tumultuous jumping on the trampoline helped me clear my head and climb back into my body.

But of course I was conflicted about that too.

The simple living advocate and the yoga teacher in me were not into the decadence. Not at all.

An entire room for a trampoline? Oyvavoy. That’s no way to live.

The ex-hedonist in me thought it was pretty fabulous. And the six year old in me just wanted to bounce around all day. Bounce!

Anyway, I was mostly disapproving, theoretically. But in practice …. I loved the sensation of freedom and intensity that came with pure, ecstatic jumping around.

I got to jump every day for six weeks and then we landed an even more outrageously fabulous house-sit. In a three-story penthouse apartment in the Sophienstrasse in Mitte.

If you’ve ever been to Berlin for more than five minutes, you’re already gasping. If not, just assume that it was spectacular. But no trampoline. Alas.

And that was that.

A couple of months ago I was on the phone with one of my clients in Switzerland and she mentioned that she bounces.

On a rebounder. And does the Shiva Nata portion of her change-yer-habits practice on it too.

I was intrigued. I started researching and then gave up entirely the second I found the one I wanted.

It was the decadence thing again. Yes, my stuff. My patterns.

Like, how can someone who boycotts box stores and makes her own conditioner out of stuff in the kitchen and generally believes in not having very much stuff …. how does she justify something like getting a trampoline?

Even if it’s a really, really tiny one …

Anyway, that was where I got stuck. So I gave myself a few months to work on that and with that.

In the meantime I was getting these huge amounts of email, some of which was highly critical and hurtful and a lot of which was requiring me to be very clear about setting boundaries.

It eventually occurred to me that my ten-minutes-in-meditation that I was doing over every tough thing in my inbox was taking a lot of time and energy.

And that maybe things would be a lot easier if I could just kind of bounce it out.

Yeah, I was crushing hard on this trampolina.

It showed up a few days ago.

And I pretty much can’t stop bouncing. It’s that great.

Also, it’s in my office (of course). So now I feel like I work at Google or something. You know, one of those companies where they cater to you tremendously because they want you to be creative and feel appreciated and loved.

And it hit me:

I do work for a company that would do anything to help me be creative and feel appreciated and loved. Mine.

And if I want my desk to be a chaise lounge and my conference table to be a rebounder, then by golly …


Tramp tramp tramp tramp tramp tramp tramp*.


That’s the sound of me. Jumping and bouncing. On my trampoline.

*Bonus Freddy the Pig reference: which book is that from?

They recommend doing ten minutes. Twice a day.

The first day it hurt so much that I gave up after about three minutes and spent the other seven cursing being old and tired.

Later on I barely made it through ten minutes and had to spend the rest of the day recovering.

But then I got hooked.

And yesterday I did twenty minutes while dancing around to Been Gone Too Long by The Snake Charmers** (which is awesome, by the way). And now I’m hooked.

**You follow Marie — @snakecharmers — on Twitter, right?

I told you there wasn’t a point.

Things move and change.

Seeds are planted. Stuff grows. Things emerge and lead to other things. There are twists and turns and surprises. Sometimes whatever it is will take some time to get there.

I’m not ready to decide what the point is today. Or if there is one. I’m just hanging out and watching patterns.

Absorbing information. Connecting dots. Closing circles. Bouncing.

A lot of bouncing.

The Fluent Self