This is The Thing

Well, I can’t think of a better way to kick off 2009 than with a bit of laughter — and for that matter, laughter of the intertubes-meme sort. If you’ve already seen the video below, watch it again, and don’t miss the second one. (Warning: You may need a diaper. Jus’ sayin’.)

May your New Year be full of laughter of the really good kind.

The snow tells
tales about you.

How many times
you went to the
mailbox.

Whether you really
did go out to the
back building
and check the
thermostat.
Or not.

It tells tales
on the neighborhood
animals, too.

The pedestrians
and their dogs.

The deer and the cats
and the racoon.

It reminds you
that you haven’t
thrown seed
out for the birds.

It even tells you
when you may
have thrown
too much out,
as the little, runic
footprints of portly
sparrows
begin to impress
the drifts.

Don’t count on it
to do your
record-keeping
for you, though.

It will be gone,
at some point.

Lately, I’ve felt like a kid under the covers with a flashlight, surreptitiously turning pages when I was “supposed” to be doing something else — like sleeping.

But the book I’ve been reading is myself.

I like self-reflection, and I like people who do it consciously.  I usually find it an enjoyable activity (especially since I chose to accept, appreciate, and love myself more thoroughly).

Like a well-skilled parent, I now feel more able to simultaneously radiate love and acceptance toward myself while I am in the act of calling myself on my own shit.   It makes a world of difference.

Part of that was coming to the understanding that accepting certain things that were “so” about myself — I’m a loud-mouth.  I can be a know-it-all.  I’m unrelenting about certain things.  I tend to interrupt people when they’re speaking, and often monopolize conversations.

I don’t necessarily “like” it when I act this way, but I no longer feel utterly ashamed about them, as I once did.  They are behaviors that I engage in, and things that I tend to do.  That’s all.

Unloading that shame has been incredibly helpful.  It’s actually helped me to change some of those things (or perhaps, more accurately, to re-purpose them).   Relentless can also be perserverant — loquacious can also be well-spoken — the know-it-all can also be a fount of information.

These days, the thing I’m looking at is why I don’t reach harder to meet my own potential.  I have this bone-deep knowing that I have capabilities and gifts that I haven’t exercised to the -enth that I might.  I know this.

So, I’ve been looking at my excuses, and at how I distract and dilute myself, and what cookie I think I might get if I just lay low or shut up, and how often I am willing to think something like:  “Yeah, it’s a great idea, but I’m sure someone else has already thought of it, or will do it, even if I don’t.”

This is a balancing act for me, because I do have a certain streak of over-doing, and that tidge of egomania that likes to think that I could do it sooooo much better than anyone else, as well as that edge of a controlling personality that often refuses to delegate in order to maintain that control.  Blech.

Still, I can know all that and still understand that there probably some things that I am actually better suited to do than someone else — because it’s what I came to do.

I hear this a lot from people — when they start reaching toward their BIG dreams, they often hear that voice emerge that says:  “Who do you think you are, Ms. Fancy-pants?”

But as Carruch says, thinking that you are peculiarly insignificant or worthless is just another form of arrogance, really, because, if you’re the worst person in the world, it’s still a form of holding yourself as “special” in that detractive way — the way that keeps you separated from everything else.

I am special — but so is everyone else.

I teach this one exercise where I have people list all of their qualities — not their “good points” or their “flaws” — just all of it — as qualities.   The things about yourself that, for good or ill, have always been with you.  The things you’ve tried to tame and train, but there they are, still.

Then I have them write a “job description” for someone who has precisely those qualities.

Mine would go something like this:

Professional Talker

• Must have high drive to communicate with and express to others.
• Must be willing to hang on to a point like a pit-bull until it is completely validated or disproven.
• Must possess propensity for long, varied, and intense exposures to other human beings, on phone, via internet, or in person.
• Must bring forth information without prodding.
• Must be willing to be extremely vulnerable and revealing.
• Must be self-possessed enough to not take others reactions personally, without becoming dissociative or detached.

I’m a Professional Talker.  It’s what I came to do.  I can tell, because I’m most satisfied and fulfilled when I’m doing it.  And I’ve done it all my life.

It doesn’t matter if it’s printed word, or verbal speech, or music, or stand-up, or art — for me, it’s all a form of talking — of somehow getting the inside of me outside of me.

Now, though, I’m really looking at how I’ve used that talking — and whether it needs to get bigger and broader, or more narrow-cast and focused.  I honestly don’t know.  I’m just looking.

The comforter is tented over my head, and I’m turning these internal pages — now slowly, now quickly, skimming or “reading for comprehension” — shining the light of myself into my own shadowy corners.

Time for a laugh, though.  Christmas (and other holiday) humor from Jim Gaffigan.

Somebody recently asked me to explain how I had “become so wise”.  Which is funny, because I’m not feeling particularly “wise” today.  At all.

I’m having one of those spells where I feel disoriented to my own core — where everything seems to be up for question — again.

It’s not like this is new — and I no longer resist it in the way I used to.  I have been through enough of these periods of personal redefinition that I recognize them for what they are:  Natural cycles.

Incredibly frustrating natural cycles, sometimes, but natural cycles, nonetheless.

Even though I’m usually more comfortable during times when I’m very, very clear about what’s next and where I’m going in my life, I’ve come to realize that these periods of self-reflection and questioning are important.  I know that being “comfortable” isn’t the be-all and end-all of existence, and that, in fact, sometimes it’s been anathema to growth for me — so I’m reflecting and questioning with a fair degree of willingness.

Sure, there are some times when I bitch and moan in this state, but these days, I seem to have a sense of being an observer of that process as I’m going through it — whereas, in the past, I would often become so ensconced in my own process that I had no sense of perspective on it at all, and would become convinced that the state I was in at the moment was going to last for a lifetime.

Now, too, I recognize that bitching and moaning is a way of ceding my own power — and evidence that I am somehow pretending that I am not creating my own reality.

So, even when I’m bitching, there’s a part of me that is inside, thinking:  “I’m going to look back on this moment in a few days/weeks/months, and be horribly embarrassed by it.”

Is that what wisdom is –  the practice of seeing oneself from a larger perspective than this one moment?  I’m not sure that’s it, really — because I’ve heard wisdom fly from the mouths of people who were completely encapsulated by their momentary experience, and foolishness fly from the mouths of people who had very large perspectives.

What’s up for question for me right now is — just about everything.  The only real clear place I have within myself is about being in relationship with my Beloved.  That is solid and real for me.  But for the first time in a very long time, I’m not so clear about where I want to be living, or how, or what I want to be doing for work in the world.

It’s not like there’s anything else really calling to me in those realms, but I can feel my present routine itching and pinching at me — like a scratchy sweater that I’ve outgrown.

I’ve been so identified with the work that I do that this questioning seems very radical — if I’m not doing this, then who am I?  What do I need?  How much of what I “need” now (in terms of where and how I live) is based upon this work that I’ve done for over a decade now?  If I were doing something else, how would those needs change?

I’ve spoken a lot in the last year that I’m tired of doing “triage” work with people — I’m tired of patching them up and sending them out into the fray.  People come to Circle, or to a class, or to a session, or they listen to something online, and usually, they get something that they find helpful (some people even let me know this) — but I may also never see them or hear from them again — so I don’t really know.

As time passes, I feel hungrier and hungrier for a greater continuity in the work I do — to work with people in a way that feels sequential and forward moving — and where I can actually see more of the effect that I might be having on the people I’m working with.

I’ve been flailing around in this for a while — I’ve set up some structures to facilitate this type of work, and when I’ve done it, I’ve enjoyed it.  I think it all boils down to the fact that I’m feeling a huge internal urge to “get on with it” –

Whatever “it” is.  Sigh.

If you’re not particularly tied into the whole astrology thing, let me put it as simply as possible:  This full moon is the real deal.

Even if you don’t believe in astrology, maybe you believe in astronomy — this full moon if both at perigee (closest approach to Earth) and syzygy (directly aligned with Earth and Sun) — and that means big pulls.

I know that I’m feeling it myself.  Today, I was alternately lethargic and energized — with a slight edge that was nearly irritation.  Crabby.  Cranky.  Touchy.

My Beloved and I were both feeling this way, and we surrendered to our cranky, crabby selves by watching a movie in the afternoon.  After which, I finally did something that’s needed doing for months – located something of which sightings are so rare that it has sometimes been assumed to be extinct — the top of my desk.  In fact, the top of my desk, the inside of my closet, the dresser drawer that has been in chaos since we sold the old furniture and moved the pine bureau up to my room, and that awful, dreaded corner of my office where I’ve been stacking stuff that I would “get to” someday.

Now, I’m sitting in an office that is so clean that it feels rather foreign.

I think that all the open space has me feeling a bit agoraphobic.

Seriously, it’s kind of spooky in here right now.

I’ve always been something of a slob — disorganized rather than dirty — or perhaps I should say, organized in my own peculiar way.  I can usually lay my hand to something important when I need to, despite the chaos.  In fact, I think when things are this neat, I worry that I won’t be able to find things.

I digress.

My office has been in a state of chaos for months, as I said, and I honestly cannot imagine where this sudden flurry of organizational frenzy came from — so, I’m blaming the full moon.

It’s out my window right now, and the yard is lit up and glowing, and coyotes are howling on Morgan Hill, and I can see nearly the entire surface of my desk.

Maybe I’ll turn out my office lights and look at my desk under the moonlight.

I don’t know what’s up lately, but I seem to have incurred the wrath of the Techno-Pixies.

It started with my printer, which just decided to go tits-up one day for no apparent reason.  Don’t get me wrong.  That printer was a real work-horse, and printed faithfully for over four years — but the way it went wrong was suspiciously like the way the last one went wrong (made by the same manufacturer), at almost exactly the same time in its life-cycle, which makes me wonder……

So, we have another printer in the house, but frankly, I was busy and couldn’t be bothered to get it networked, so I was printerless for about a week, which wasn’t a huge big deal, because I can print to file and all.

So my local techno-savior offered to trade me for a printer.  A printer that she had a duplicate of, and which she said was a great printer (and she’s an authority and I believe her).  Problem is, I couldn’t get it to work on my computer — and I spent a couple of whole days trying.  Install software.  Uninstall software.  Clean registry.  Restart machine.  Check cords.  Install software with a slight tweak.  Uninstall software.  Lock up system.  Get official install disk.  Install software.  Uninstall software.  Install software on the laptop to try it there.  No dice.  Google endlessly between all actions above.   Rinse and repeat.

About the time I just had to take a break from all that, the new webcam that I traded for arrived in the mail.  Turns out you can use it with a PC — if you have a powered firewire port (which I don’t).  Try it out several ways.  Google endlessly.  Drive to the two places in town that have computer stuff.  Fail at finding what you need.  Return home.  Look at firewire pci board after firewire pci board, looking at little tiny photos on the retail site to see if they have a power port.  Try to decide whether its worth it to get one.  Wonder if the camera will work at all, or whether it would be best to sell it on ebay to someone who has the right system and get a different one.  Fall into a techno-exhaustion heap and say:  Fuck it.  I’m gonna watch some youtubes.

Pray for me, oh readers.  Appeal to the Techno-Pixies to be not wroth with me.

OK — Some of you may remember that a month and four days ago, I kicked off this project about the QuadE (Evolutionary Equal Exchange Economy).  I’m back to give you a report of my experiences, insights, and ponderings.

First of all, some stats.  I sent this out to the more than 500 people on my email list, and posted it here, which was read heavily when I did my “coming out” post at Shakesville.  I had about 17 people venture in with me for QuadE readings — some of them didn’t end up actually scheduling a reading, but I had interesting discussions with them, and for the most part, I liked the experiment.

I tried to remain focused on the experimental nature of the experience as I could, and stay very open to the thought of:  Well, it’s an experiment, and I’m a full participant.

Here were some things that worked well:  It felt good to be in a process of negotiation and discussion with others.  Much different than the standard:  “Here’s my price.  You choose whether you want a session” bit that is common in our culture.  I ended up communicating more with the people who tried it out than I sometimes do with clients in the booking/prep stage of doing readings, which I liked.  I actually got exchanges that included some stuff that I’ve been needing, and some things that I didn’t necessarily “need”, but which were a nice surprise (salmon!  yum!).  It gave me a chance to be creative in my exchanges, and to encourage others to be creative.

Here are some things that didn’t work for me so well:   It seemed hard for some to feel “right” about entering an exchange with me where they weren’t offering me what I “usually” get, or something that seemed “market rate” - even when I assured them that I understood that I was going into this with my eyes wide open, and what I really wanted was for them to do what they could do — not what they thought “looked right”.  With several people, I felt like I was doing coaching with them during that process, on top of the session work that I did with them, and while I accepted this as part of the whole experiment thing, I don’t think I would want to do that in the future.  I think that I want to enter this process of revolutionizing exchange only with people who are equally interested in dismantling their own stuff about money and barter and exchange, who would bring their energy to attending to this stuff so that we could get into the creative aspect more mutually.

I also had a few mishaps — a bounced check that cost me $5.00 — a person who had two other people book and then wanted to make exchange on their behalf, without arranging that with me first — I rolled with the punches and examined my feelings when they came up in these situations, and stayed in that experimental mind-set, saying things to myself like:  “Well, that’s something that can happen”, rather than “Well, of course that happened”.

Probably the most important realization I had in the process was that it really emphasized for me just how entrained we are around money.  I began to realize that the entrained paradigm about monetary exchange was so transparent to me and most people that I know that moving into an evolutionary exchange system was going to take more than a “let’s see how this goes” — it is, I think, going to take agreement — the kind of agreement that we have about money — shared, and clearly understood.  This evolutionary, shared understanding can not, I think, just be a stop-gap measure of some kind — it needs to be direct and intentional.

So, if I continue my QuadE adventure, I think that I want to do it with people who make some form of agreement with me about our evolutionary intention when we do so — maybe a “QuadExploratory Group” — people who are interested in changing things at a deep level.

I’ve been examining and cogitating on this.  The soup’s not done yet, but I thought I’d spout some of my perceptions tonight.  I’m sure there will be more later.

Yes, I did.  Yesterday.  I’m in printer-quandary for the past days, and I’ve been wrestling with my computer and getting the 2008 Holiday Special out on my website.  Phew, and phew.  And now I’m off to bed.  Apparently, I suck at this daily blogging thing.  But I will at least suck with full self-awareness. 

I’ll be back to blogging tomorrow.