Personal ads! They’re … personal! Very.
Even when the asking thing feels weird and conflicted.
Ever since I posted the first one asking my perfect house to find me, which united me with Hoppy House, I have been a fan of the madness that is personal ads.
And now it’s my weekly ritual. Yay, ritual!
Let’s do this thing.
Thing 1: Perfect-for-me spot to lead a retreat.
Dear perfect-for-me spot to lead a retreat,
Selma and I will be teaching several retreats this year, and we are still looking for the perfect place for one of them. Maybe two of them.
We love you and we want to find you. Yes, it’s a little forward of me to declare undying love before we’ve even met, but I know you are waiting for me too.
You are fun. You are calm. You are restful. You are beautiful. You have that certain magically charged something. We go zing together.
You are (ideally) on the west coast. I’d be happiest if you were somewhere between San Francisco and the Oregon coast.
But yeah, I’d be willing to go as far south as San Luis Obispo or as far north as Vancouver.
The important parts:
You have room for twenty people to stay comfortably. Mostly single rooms, with some doubles in case people want to share. But no more than two beds to a room.
Each bedroom needs to have its own bathroom.
You are not “rustic”. (No bunk beds, no log cabins, no antlers and/or potpourri hanging from walls).
Being with you is all about comfort. This is not a low-end production. We want to feel safe, supported and loved while we’re doing our wacky working-on-our-stuff stuff.
But on the other hand, you’re also not excessively super-fancy resort-ey (we’re not so into enormous flat-screen televisions or in-room massage or whatever).
The other bits:
I would love it if you had a labyrinth. Then I can do my wacky labyrinth exercise before we actually walk the labyrinth.
And, because of where you’re located, I already know that the food you provide is local, sustainable, simple and delicious, made with love, with plenty of options for vegetarians and omnivores alike.
A whiteboard! Is a good thing.
You like rubber ducks, right? Or at least the one who is my assistant. Because she’ll be co-teaching. :)
You have a functioning, usable website that I can send people to.
Oh, and it’s really important to me that someone who works for you actually responds when my (non-duck) assistant writes you emails asking questions. We’ve already had to disqualify a dozen places because they just don’t write or call back.
So yeah, I’m feeling a bit frustrated, which is why I’m so ready to meet you and click with you. Yup. Whiirrrrrrrr click.
I will love you madly.
I will treat you right.
We will leave you the way we found you.
We will clear the energy and fill it with sparkly wonder.
I will talk you up on my blog and with my duck-loving pirate cult. Having me be a part of your thing will biggify you.
And I promise to fill this retreat on my own with my own people. Not a problem.
That’s why I’m not interested in applying to be part of an events calendar.
Mmmm. And I don’t want to have to send a proposal. This is my proposal. It’s a love letter.
That’s it. I love you. I want to meet you. I want to nuzzle your ear. Metaphorically.
Havi (and Selma)
p.s. If you had a hot tub? Or are near some mineral springs or something? I would not complain.
Thing 2: A power-hitting outfielder for the Giants.
Here’s what I want:
My gentleman friend is a fairly fanatical San Francisco Giants fan, and I’ve kind of caught that tragic, tragic disease by osmosis.
Though, weirdly, I was somehow immune from it while I was still living in San Francisco.
Anyway, the pain of having dazzlingly strong pitching and … uh, not much else is just. too. much.
Ways this could work:
Honestly? I have no idea. Of all the ridiculous asks, this is up there.
And since that’s not going to happen, maybe a miracle.
Maybe Matt Holliday will suddenly fall into our laps. I don’t know.
Or maybe I’ll just stop caring so much and the pain will go away. That could work too.
I will cheer.
I will try to stop rolling my eyes every time I hear any Giants-related news.
I will occasionally say something nice about Barry Zito.
I will allow my gentleman friend to totally co-opt my Very Personal Ads with his addictively obsessive passion.
Progress report on past Very Personal Ads.
Just to update you on what’s happened since … last time.
I asked for clarity with my Kitchen Table program changes for this coming year.
And got it in spades, thanks to help from Hiro and lots of invisible support. Yay.
My other ask was about cranking out blog posts to use during all the mad traveling I’m doing.
No progress on that one yet. I haven’t really had time to think about it since I was, uhhhh, traveling.
But I’ll sit with it some more. I may have to end up rewording the ask (or just rethinking how I want to ask for it).
What about you guys?
Comments. Since I’m already asking …
I am adding to my practice of asking for stuff by being more specific about what I would like to receive in the comments. And that way, if you feel like leaving one (you totally don’t have to), you get to be part of this experiment too. :)
Here’s what I want (just leave them in the comments):
- Your own personal ads, small or large. Things you’ve asked for. Or are asking for. Or would like to ask for. Or updates on last time!
What I would rather not have:
- Reality theories.
- Shoulds. As in, “You should be doing it like this” or “That’s not the right way to ask for things — instead it should be like x, y and z”
- To be judged or psychoanalyzed.
I am committing to getting better at asking for things even when asking feels weird. I commit to giving time and thought to the things that people say, and to interact with their ideas and with my own stuff as compassionately and honestly as is possible.
Thanks for doing this with me!