Wiry Fankle One

Book tongues: for book eaters everywhere.

What I’ve been eating:

Les Miserables (this edition actually says on the cover “now a magnificent theater musical”- yuck), then took a break to eat

The Monk Upstairs (how could I have missed that Tim Farrington published another soul gem? Tim, I thought you liked me?) and in between been reading

CrazyBusy by Edward Hallowell (recommended by Jen Hofman who is teaching a workshop March 25th at the Comfort Cafe called The Comfort of Clutter – I’m loving putting together surprises and extra for my Cafe)

And I started writing a story about a Cafe in Portland that’s magic. It feels so lively to be playing with fiction again.

Wiry Fankle Two

Systems. I’m working on them.

Mostly for my business. And I hate it.

I feel so constricted by the very idea of systems.

But the truth is…

my lack of systems constricts me.

For example, not having a system to promote my April retreats means people don’t hear about them and they don’t get to benefit by attending what is going to be meltingly-wonderful life changingly helpful.

That is constricting.

So I’m thinking of systems as banks on a river. You need banks or you just have a big flood that trickles into nothing.

Otherwise known as a bog. A fetid swamp. A bug infested boondoogle.

I’m taking this free tele-class which will may me feel confused and sleepy but that’s simply a sign I’m making progress.

Progress is slow and my impatient self does not like slow.

Oh well.

Wiry Fankle Three

My slippers.

I am so in love with these slippers, I keep wearing them out of the house because I forget they are on my feet.

When I buy something this perfect (and from a cool company like Zappos; the slippers come almost before I order them- soon I will just think of the shoe I need and they will appear on my porch) I realize (yet again) how little I need to be happy and how comforting good design is.

That’s it for the Wednesday Fankle.

Hope to see you at Kripalu or over at the Comfort Cafe or… for tea!

Related posts:

1. Wednesday Wiry Fankle #3
2. Wednesday’s Wiry Fankle #1
3. Wednesday’s Wiry Fankle #2

Start a diet.

2

Try to be everything to everybody at all times.

3

Glue glitter on everything. Keep getting little pieces in your eye, especially while driving in holiday traffic.

4

Visit a mall. Then a big box store. Then go back to the mall for something you forgot. Be sure and grab something to eat in the food court and eat really fast while sitting under florescent lighting listening to Christmas carols.  Don’t drink any water all day while you shop.

5

Handcraft hundreds of intricate holiday cards that involve more glitter and long handwritten notes. Send to everyone you have ever met. Go to the post office during the busiest time and stand in line for hours to buy cute holiday stamps.

6

Compete with your neighbors to see who can put up the most elaborate holiday decorations. Make multiple trips to the hardware store for replacement bulbs.

7

Eat massive amounts of holidays confections. Be sure and eat the most sugary ones with coffee before breakfast several days in a row and then (because you started a diet), don’t eat anything until dinner.  Be amazed at your mood swings and memory loss.

8

Fret frequently about what you are going to give _______ and _______ . When you decide, spend more than you can afford.

9

Stay up late many nights doing any or all of the above.

10

Say yes to every party, recital, play, Nutcracker, caroling, gift exchange, latke-frying, sleigh-slooshing invite. Or pout because you didn’t get any.

11

Keep trying to run your business /do your work, write your book, exercise, keep your relationships healthy, be politically active, find the true meaning of the holidays, and oh yeah, stay on that diet.

Wait… I have to extract my tongue from my cheek…

I really only have one thing to say about the holidays: This year, choose what you want to do – not what any article says nor what you did last year nor what your grandmother did in 1889 and certainly not what you think you should do.  Find your beautiful and imperfect way.

I know, you probably already do but I thought I’d state the obvious. I’m good at that.

(Oh and if I gave you an anxiety attack with this list, you might want to check out the Mood Changers and Comfort Wishes or one of my calming and comforting books, still on sale.)

Related posts:

1. 10 Ways to Take care of Yourself when You’re Resisting Being Sick
2. Ways out of Fight or Flight
3. No Expectations

So last week my focus was to lovingly:

Notice my pattern of wanting to do everything yesterday (aka speediness) and let myself stop and feel the creative urges behind that speediness.

I did this. All of about once.

And I still learned that speediness is how I overcome fear- full speed ahead and damn the torpedoes darling — and that somewhere somehow, my pattern of full speed ahead morphed into a way that fear invades me.

When I hurry for the wrong reasons (usually associated with what I should have done already or what I should have done instead) especially with my work, I become afraid and the panic slows me down which reinforces the story I’m not doing enough fast enough– and can actually make that story true as it is hard to create when you are afraid.

(Although utterly possible, if you are very kind and conscious and have a sense of humor.)

I’m stating to see how making a plan each week of how much I can actually do versus how much I think I should be doing might just possibly maybe be a good idea.

What kind of planning do you all use? (Oh but that word planning makes my little artiste self all pouty and rebel feeling.) (I’ll just let her pout for a moment.)

This week: Appreciative Pattern Noticing

I like what we are doing with all this noticing- it works! - and this week I am ready to focus on what’s good about one of my patterns because it feels like too much attention on what isn’t so great might start to feel cruel… and this is a self-cruelty free zone.  Self-cruelty.

So this week let’s put our attention on the Pattern We are Doing that We Like

What’s working for you that you want to testify too? Throw lilies at and hemp socks (so comfy and yet firm; I like a firm sock, go figure) and otherwise hallelujah all about.

And perhaps, if you want to and if it naturally happens, do more of. The good pattern. The thing you do that you like. Small, natural, easy, weird: it’s all good.

I’ll go first.

This week I will lovingly notice when I am being exuberant and I’ll enjoy that about myself and if I have the thought, “I should do something with this energy, like use it or share it or make it last,” I will just breath.

What wonderful pattern, proclivity, leaning, tendency and general penchant of yours would you like to pat on the back this week?

I fully endorse any noticing that hoists your freak flag high!

Want to join me? Name your pattern in the comment section. You can name the same pattern from last week, if you played last week. Or you may want to tweak yours a tad.

Related posts:

1. Choose Your Life Mondays #2
2. Choose Your Life Mondays
3. Life is a Verb

I could barely form a thought, let alone write a blog post.

I felt little down. And I felt guilty and weird about feeling let down. But then in the afternoon, coaching a writing client, we were talking about how fighting yourself never works and I thought, “That’s what I’ve been doing all day. Fighting myself for being let down and exhausted.”

So I stopped and noticed I was let down, exhausted and wanting to hide from the world. And I didn’t, as the amazing Havi says, let that impress me. I gave myself some time to cry and snuggle and just notice. And then I read Naomi who always makes me feel hopeful. Then I went to the library and got some good novels to read when I finish Kathleen Norris’s great book. And hugged Bob and the dogs a lot. And Karen sent me this blog post which also helped.

Then in my writer’s group last night, Margaret said, “I couldn’t settle today. I kept feeling something should happen.” That made me feel less alone. Which is always good.

Then she went on to say that she wished the U.S. did things like her native U.K., “There’s a moving van waiting at the back door of 10 Downing Street to take the old guy out as the new guy’s moving in at the front.”

We have to wait 74 more days give or take a day I might have lost while napping.

I have an idea: let’s not wait. As Lisa said on Twitter “Can you take this breathless moment of shared hope and exhale it into our tomorrows?”

Let’s start exhaling now.

Let’s exhale our shared hope in small and vital ways and start preparing the way for the new year. Let’s work on our courage and resilience and vision so we’re ready to be part of the change. Let’s clear out the old within ourselves, our habits, our beliefs so we can have the energy and courage to help.

Because watching history being made on Tuesday, I kept thinking, “I want to be that great, too.”  Which may sound flamingly ego-mad crazy but isn’t that what great leadership and authentic hope can do, inspire us toward our own greatness?

Let’s begin to ask my favorite question from Viktor Frankl, “What purpose can I make of my life today?” Let’s ask it everyday. Not to find the answer but to allow the question to guide us. (You know I love questions!)

Are you yearning to express your greatness?

If so, what one thing might you love and accept about yourself in this moment so your greatness can shine?

I’d be honored to hear.

And finally, that story I promised you

in what now seems like a different century about the power of moving your body.

Last year I led a weekend retreat centered around rest and inner listening and it included a fair amount of movement with the totally embodied and inspiring Camille Maurine. The participants had come hoping to recapture a spark of joy, a sense of themselves free from “shoulds” and to-do lists. The movement exercises turned out to be the most challenging part of the retreat for a number of the women—and the most life-changing.

In the first exercise, I asked the group to ask their bodies (not their minds) to show them what their everyday life felt like. The circle exploded into hopping, running, grabbing, marching, and slumping. Then we came to a pause, breathed, and noticed how this felt.

Next I asked the group, “What does your sacred pause look like?” It looked like this: graceful swaying, arms opening and extending, breath slowing and deepening. The contrast was startling. But as we continued the exercise with different questions and expressions, I saw one group member, Kit, bolt from the room and several other women who were barely moving.

At a break, I found Kit on a bench overlooking the city. “How are you?” I asked. “Scared,” she said. “It feels like there is this roar inside of me. I want to let it out, but I’m afraid what might happen if I do.” We talked about giving herself permission, being kind to herself, taking it at her own pace—the most important advice when befriending the body’s wisdom.

Walking back to my cabin later, I marveled at how convincingly real our fear can feel, how seemingly impenetrable in its accumulation. Not just a box but a fortress. I asked Camille, “What are we so afraid of?”

Consciousness is a great mystery,” Camille said. “That we can be aware of our own existence is a marvel, but consciousness is also a mixed blessing. Awareness of being alive brings awareness of death, and the more aware we are, the more we feel. Movement brings us smack into contact with that wonder and awe—through sensation, through the breath—and that can be a scary awakening.”

The retreat unfolded beautifully: movement, journaling, and silent time outdoors slowly worked miracles, peeling away our layers of fear, rushing, and self-judgment. I noticed how much younger we all looked, and how much more laughter filled the center. We were discovering how thrilling it is when we reclaim our juice for living, our very life force, when we open our arms to ourselves and abandon our somatic ruts.

After dinner on the second day, Elizabeth told me this story:

When you asked us to move the first morning, I froze. I didn’t want to look stupid or stand out. But then I had an experience that changed everything. I took a walk after our class, and the young girl who lives here joined me. We stopped to watch a horse being shod, and she brought me a handful of flowers and said, ‘I am so lucky to live here!’ As she said this, her body dipped into a squat and popped up again—spontaneous movement! I thought, ‘This child didn’t wonder how to express herself or whether it was acceptable. She just moved.’

Later, in Camille’s class, when she asked us not to move until the impulse came from within, I thought of that girl. I sat frozen for five minutes, determined not to move until my body was ready, reliving every awkward moment of my teenage years, all the times I had learned to physically shut down. When the impulse finally came, it was so exhilarating. My body was breathing me. It was like my mind was a bystander, and as I watched, it was my body telling me stories. As it finished one, I’d get quiet and still, and then another story would pour out. It was breathtaking.”

To the power of love, change, hope, courage and moving our bodies!

Related posts:

1. Comfort During Fearful Times: Getting Out the Pre-Election Jitters
2. Comfort During Fearful Times: Hope Making
3. Comfort During Fearful Times: Don’t Forget the Comfort (Doh)

Today is how-can-anyone-not-be-voting day?

Today is how can anybody-get-any-work-done-day?

Today is I-get-why-democracy-is-worth-dying-for-day.

Today is history-making.

Today is hope-making.

Today may be the day in which we collectively begin to turn away from fear-mongering and begin to have a relationship with our real fears. Which will, hopefully, allow us to create real solutions.

No matter which candidate you are voting for, no matter what voting shenanigans take place, no matter how long the lines, no matter that the archaic electoral college still exists, millions of people have enough faith that their opinion matters that they are casting a ballot.

Not one voter, however, will be killed for voting. No one will not be shot at. No one will lose their job. No one will have their children or family tortured.

No one.

As often in my life as I have felt shame at being an American because of choices our government has made or the lies our leaders have told or my own complicity in not marching in the streets when those things happen, more often I have felt gratitude.

Gratitude that I can complain about those choices and lies, that I can write a blog, newsletter or article that is not censored, that I can send a slip of paper through the mail (we have mail-only voting in my county) without retribution.

I have even more gratitude that my child can walk safely to school, that I can walk the streets day or night without fear, that I can buy food, that I can sleep at night without wondering if someone will burst through my door and kill everyone I love.

We may be profoundly poorer in the coming months and years, in dollars and international good will, and it is entirely possible we will become vastly richer in self-determination, integrity and the deep remembrance that each of can truly make a difference when we remember we have a choice.

When we remember our fears do not define us.

Today, I cry with gratitude and hope for the ideals of our country. Flawed and dented as they may be, they are ideals each person who casts a vote today is living.

They are ideals worth overcoming our fears for, whatever those fears may be.

To the power of voting, the glory of freedom and the remembrance that remaining awake to our choices is our first and most challenging duty.

Tomorrow, the great story! Promise.

Related posts:

1. Comfort During Fearful Times: Fear Reflects How Much You Care
2. Comfort During Fearful Times: Don’t Forget the Comfort (Doh)
3. Comfort During Fearful Times: It’s Not About Self-Improvement