very personal adsPersonal ads. They’re … personal! Very.

I write a Very Personal Ad each week to practice wanting, and get clarity about my desires. The point isn’t getting my wish (though cool things have emerged from wishing), the point is learning about my relationship with what I want, and 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…


As you know, I am currently on Shmita, a grand adventure in Not Doing, also known as a sabbatical.

And this is happening on the road in the form of Operation True Yes, aka Six Month Road Trip aka Possibly Unending Road Trip, which is where I am learning to live by my yes.

One of the interesting things about living by the yes, of course, is that our yes changes, constantly. That’s because we are living, breathing, dynamic creatures in a the beautiful, complex ever-shifting process of life, and that is how being alive works.

So I’ve been dealing with some of the fall-out or consequences of yes. Mostly of the times I am not being true to my yes, and sometimes when I am learning how to be true to my yes.

Sure is not exactly the same as yes, but so close that you can get them confused.

I was supposed to be in Salt Lake City this month, and Salt Lake City was not my yes, but racing at the racetrack there was a big yes for my lover, and he is a big joy-spark of yes for me, and it’s not like I had anything else going on, and my main yes is to rest, replenish and write, and I can kind of do that from anywhere.

So it wasn’t my yes, but it was a sure, yeah, okay.

Then I had an opportunity to go on a solo adventure while he goes on a motorcycle trip, and that was a big yes, and I found a flight out of SLC to [secret location], and that felt very yes as well.

Last week we both suddenly realized that neither of us has a yes for Salt Lake right now. My lover still has a yes for the track, but the now part of it is no longer a yes. Then a new plan emerged which filled us both with delight, and that was pretty exciting.


I know an agent (double-meaning!) who works for United Airlines, and we had the following conversation…

She: Whoa-my-god you got an amazing price on that ticket.
Me: I know! Except I can’t use it now because it turns out I won’t be in Salt Lake City after all. I need to fly out of San Francisco instead.
She: I’m sorry, babe. It’s going to be $200 to change the ticket, and you got it for the airline equivalent of small change. It’s a throwaway. Let it go and forget about it. Get another ticket and pretend this never happened.

Throw. Away.

I shrugged it off, except then, about an hour later, all my monsters showed up and they were Not Happy.

They object strenuously to this concept of throwing away something you had already paid for, and they were not willing to let it go.

I mean, we are talking giant monster fits and jumping up and down on monster trampolines and yelling at me about how this is not fair.

Which, I get it, they have a point, and I tried to agree with them on that, but it turned out this wasn’t what they were actually upset about. Mainly it was the idea that I could be someone who throws things away, and here’s where things got a little nasty, because they were furious about that.

Monsters: What kind of wasteful, extravagant, terrible person just THROWS MONEY AWAY. You screw up everything! It’s not like you have piles of money sitting around. Can we remind you that you have irresponsibly taken off work for a year? How can you just make stupid plans and pay for them and then change them every time you get a new yes? You will be THROWING AWAY MONEY forever, and it is not okay!

So we talked about this. And then we talked about approach.

How can we look at this through a new lens? What if throwing away doesn’t have to be wasteful? Or what if we aren’t throwing anything away at all?

What are some new ways of looking at [throwaway]?

1. True Yes Tuition.

It’s tuition. It’s YES tuition. These are the costs of learning to say yes to my yes, and waiting for true yes.

I knew my yes wasn’t being in SLC but I went along with it anyway.

Then I got more clear, and look how great that was, because now I get all my yeses: Not being in SLC right now while it’s snowy, not driving twelve hours to get there, not spending three days at the track, not having to go back right after my Adventure. And I get to have lunch with Jane!

So, come on. This is pretty great. I get nothing but YES, and all I had to do to get here was pay an extra $83? Fantastic, that is a terrific deal.

Plus, I got a bonus course in not saying yes to things unless they are really my yes. I love investing in True Yes Tuition. Nothing was thrown away at all.

2. Investing in escape routes.

If I were in a miserable situation, would I pay $83 to get out of it? Yeah!

Awesome. I just did that but in advance. I am paying the money now to not be in a situation I don’t want.

Like a TIP, in the sense of To Insure Promptness. I am paying a tip in advance to insure the promptness of me not being in Salt Lake when I don’t want to be, whee!

3. Try on these glasses for a minute.

I try very hard not to promote reality theories on the blog.

There are so many ways to look at — or play with — reality, with our perceptions of how things work, or how they might work.

I don’t have an interest telling people how how to view the workings of the universe. We’re all sovereign beings. We can figure out our own philosophical approach to life and aliveness.

However, I quite enjoy trying on reality theories, like glasses, and then I can see things in a new way, remembering the whole time that it’s the glasses, and I can switch glasses whenever I like.

Here’s one of my favorite pairs of glasses:

In yoga philosophy, we talk about how everything is maya (illusion).

I have also quoted a teacher of mine in Israel, Orna Sela, and how she would say kol ma shenegdi ashlaya — everything that is against me is an illusion.

So. Everything is an illusion. Money is not real, and acting like it is real (oh no, my $83!) infuses this temporal experience with false power, taking away power from what is real. Namely soul and expansiveness and qualities. Not to mention taking care of my avatar and enjoying the glorious ride.

So the $83 is a figment, and the most powerful thing I can do is say thank you and enjoy the delight of swimming in this beautiful illusion.

This is also the secret of the monk in that rather annoying parable about the strawberry. The reason he’s able to enjoy a strawberry in the face of certain death is that there is no strawberry, but it still tastes delicious. There is also no tiger. There is only wonder and awe at the exquisite believable detail of the illusion.

4. Whee!

Kind of like the above except more playful, silly, just enjoying the idea that I can throw this money away. Remembering that of course there is enough because of course there is enough.


It’s a joyful expression of celebratory goofiness, or maybe that’s goofy celebration: Money can’t be thrown away since there is always more, it’s just being thrown around as I express my delight in aliveness.

I toss these thirty eight dollars in the air, trusting that these are not the last thirty eight dollars and there will always be more, and it is safe to throw things around joyfully, knowing that they or their friends will find their way back to you, because there will always be enough.

Play and trust. Trust and play. Trust in play.

As always, Acknowledgement and Legitimacy for the hard, scary parts of this. And: Safety First.

What do I know about my wish?

It’s related to last week’s wish of being (that is: remembering that I already am) a Great Adventuress.

And part of being an adventuress is not being phased by changes of plans, associated costs, investing in the adventure, laughing delightedly at the scary parts and holding on for dear life.

What else do I know about what I want?

Throwing things away can be freeing, liberating. Like when you are in a year of Easing and Releasing, which I am.

Throwing things away means letting go of everything that does not spark joy.

Throwing things away can be surrender.

Throwing things away can be like tashlich, when you cast bread crumbs into the river on the new year, relinquishing everything you regret or no longer need from the previous year:

Everything that is done, everything that no longer serves me: I release you.

I can do this with a plane ticket. I can do this with $83. I can do this with anything. It is safe to let things go.

It is safe to let this go.

What else do I know about this?

Wishes are never about the thing I think I’m wishing for, and always about identity and safety and permission.

So of course my monsters would be up in arms about me letting things go. They’re worried about the parts of me that I might want to let go.

Letting go can feel like death: sudden irreplaceable loss.

So I want to remember that this letting go is about a coming into. An emerging.

And I will have everything I need for this adventure. It is safe for me to say goodbye to these things.

It is not a throwing away. It is a liberation. Crossing over. Breaking free. Let’s drop things that are heavy. That’s what she meant by calling it a throwaway:

You don’t have to carry this anymore.


I am poaching internet from a hotel I stayed in once — having conveniently remembered that their password is the same as the zipcode, and I am inordinately pleased about this.

Out the window there is a white sign that says REALTY in bold red letters, but I read it as Reality, because the hologram is hilarious. The strawberry really is wonderfully sweet.

Me: Hey, slightly-wiser me, what do you have for me?

She: I know this morning you were kind of stressing out about how it’s already Tuesday and you hadn’t written the wishes. I just want to remind you about how All Timing Is Right Timing, and assure you that even if you don’t know why, this is the exact right time to be doing this.
Me: Thank you. I do get into my head about that one.
She: Well, trust me on this one. This is right.


My lover and I stayed at a lovely BnB last night, and hanging in the entrance was a bell. Follow the bells, Havi Bell.

The superpower of I have everything I need for this.

April - Adventure More The quality for April is ADVENTURE, and it comes with the marvelous superpower of I have everything I need for this.
May it be so.

I could breathe this in a hundred times a day: I have everything I need for this.

Yes. Thank you.

Things I find helpful for intentions and wishes…

Nap, dance, write, play, labyrinths. Get quiet. Sweet pauses, yes to red lights and purple pills, thank you to the broken pots. Costume changes. Skip stones. Body first. Thank you in advance. Eight breaths in eight directions:

Adventure. Rest. Horizons. Security. Passion. Sweetness. Clarity. Presence.

Ongoing wishes.

Seeds planted without explanation, a mix of secret agent code and silent retreat. Things to play with someday.

Everything is easier than I thought, and look, miracles everywhere. Ha, this doesn’t require my input! My business is thriving happily without me. I think like a dancer. It’s so perfect it turned out like this. Past me is a GENIUS. I have what I need, and appreciate it. I am fearless and confident. I state my preferences clearly, calmly and easily, no big deal. I am ready to come into my superpowers and receive.

Progress report on past Very Personal Ads.

So. Last week, aka Adventuress?…

This was one of those wishes that I didn’t expect to come true right away, more about just seeding some ideas for later.

Surprisingly enough though, I did actually have a fairly adventurous week, which included a close encounter with a BEAR, and also suggesting (much to my own astonishment) to the boy that we go zip-lining. He thought that sounded stupid since he does way more exciting things all the time, but the point is that I suggested doing something terrifying instead of hoping no one else would want to do it.

And I even managed to turn something that didn’t sound that much fun into its own Grand Adventure. So this one is working for me and I like it.

Love more. Trust more. Release more. Receive more. Thank you, writing. Thank you, me who asked.

Attenzione! Attention, AGENTS.

I believe the Playground mugs are all sold but you can still acquire a pack of stone skipping cards just send a note and we’ll set it up. Ask Richard for cost/shipping.

Keep me company! Or just say hi!

This is an open invitation to deposit wishes, gwishes, personal ads, superpowers, qualities, whatever you’d like, there’s no right way! Updates on past experiments are welcome too, as is sharing anything sparked for you.

Comment culture: This is safe space for creative exploration. We are on vacation from care-taking and advice-giving. We are here to play and throw things in the pot! With amnesty. Leave a wish any time you want.

Here’s how we meet each other’s wishes: Oh, wow. What beautiful wishes.