We had great fun. I hope you enjoy listening! (Click on the link)

Heidi Fischbach from Aardvark Essentials
on magic potions and getting through the holidays

To get your very own Care Package, go here:

http://heidistable.com/care-package/

(Even though Jean McGillicuddy is not my friend’s real name –she’s a bit shy– and even though LMNO is not a real radio station, I can assure you that everything in the interview is as I say. Well, OK, the elephant’s hoof on my chest? Metaphorical. But then, you knew that, right?)

Won’t you join me please? You:
who just called yourself a name. And you:
who bit your tongue not to. And you:
who had a drink too many. And you:
who had a drink too few. And you:
dreaming at your desk job. And you:
making a go of it alone. And you:
paired with the love of your life. And you:
out there on your own. And you:
who just flipped your monster the finger,
then hugged him to make up. And you:
who got out of bed anyway. And you:
who couldn’t. And you:
with all the hats. And you:
who can’t find yours. And you:
with the mammogram to get to. And you:
who haven’t had one yet. And you:
cowering in the closet. And you:
cleaning yours out. And you:

that’s right, you:

Won’t you come dip your finger
into this essence of goodness that is you?

Confession: I haven’t succeeded. I’ve been scared. Really scared. Scared with a good bit of overwhelm. You know, when everything feels like “too much,” and even the best of sounds can sound like noise… Like that.

Good intentions. AND good to notice that a huge part of my motivation was being pushed by the part of me that was freaking-the-hell-out: it wanted me to get rid of Scared once and for all. Pro-bly on account of it being scared, too!

Wanted: Calm. To know down to my bones that all is OK. Knowing I’m taken care of, no matter what. And, doggone it, we were going to make that happen.

Laudable, isn’t it? I justified my agenda by saying that of course calm is a good thing. As is feeling taken care of. Who doesn’t want that! And besides, this was me doing it. It wasn’t like I was waiting for anyone to come save me or anything. I was going to do it and then share my findings with you.

Oh well.

Enter reality. Hello!

Over the past week every time I’ve gone to write an entry: nothing. Or I’d start and stop and start and stop over and over again… Oh the pressure.

Last night found me in this chair right here trying to write yet again. I so wanted to sing the praises of “Essence” and “Simple” — but everything that came was convoluted. Plus it felt forced. Like me pushing something that didn’t want to move. Or wasn’t ready.

Finally, exhausted and battered over a week gone by without a second post, I went to bed. “Oh no! Now what! I can’t even write any more. Writing is my love. Will I lose even that?”

It was a hard night. You know: too long and too short at once.

This morning I wrote my friend Elizabeth a 5-line email:

Dear Elizabeth,
Do you have any time today?
I have lost interest in everything. I’m scared.
Love,
Heidi

Basic? Yes. To the point? M-hm. More to the essence than anything I’d written all week.

Elizabeth Levine—whose middle name might as well be Kindness, or Presence, or Kick-ass-sense-of-humor, or Understanding—wrote back inviting me to ask myself:

Is it true that I’ve lost interest in everything?

Hmmmm. Pretty quickly I see it’s not true.

For one: I’ve not for one moment lost interest in finding ways to take care of myself.

For two: I’ve not lost interest in not giving up on myself.

For three: Ironically, I’ve not lost interest in Scared. It’s here in spite of my trying to get rid of it. Hello!

For four: It seems what I’m really interested in is how someone with lots of overwhelm and scared can take good care anyway.

For five: I’ve not lost interest in beauty. It’s just that at the moment, as one dear friend so succinctly said: “You’re seeing everything through shit glasses.”

Oh my. Nails it!

But know what? Beauty is still here. Alive and well. And yesterday, even in the midst of an overwhelm of gargantuan proportions (redundant, just like the overwhelm)—beauty found me.

Oh my. So subtle and even more beautiful for that. This beauty looked a whole lots like 4 itty-bitty sparse paragraphs written by the equally beatiful Havi Brooks:

Anyway, it was just the two of us. No waitress. I was covering the bar and he was taking the kitchen.

We knew we’d be hanging out together until at least six in the morning when we closed, so it wasn’t like we needed to fill the space with conversation.

I was cleaning something. He was cleaning something. Johnny Cash in the background. All the space in the world. All the time in the world.

Just cleaning. And thinking. And waiting, but not impatiently. Knowing that any minute a door will open. A bell will ring. And there you are.

Oh my. So simple. Ahhhh. So calm. Ahhh. So much care.

All for today, my friends, all for today—

Heidi

I’m quite adept at running the mental movies: woman pushing shopping cart. Woman trying to keep her laptop dry in the rain. Woman trying to find wifi… Woman sleeping under the bushes in the Cambridge Common… Woman dying old and alone with nary a person who loves her in sight… Scared yet? No shit!

But the other day, while doing my Heidi-version-of-running running, I began wondering about what the part of me that’s scared most longs for, most wants, most believes is missing. And that’s when things started getting interesting. (You know, enter curiosity!)

Little Tangent: I’ve been doing A Month of Living Curiously and have loved it: I lurve writing letters to people I love. And my subscribers? Adore them.

But this month I very much need to focus on biggifying my massage therapy, self-employed IttyBiz. I need to make massage a more solid stream of income, one I can consistently depend on to provide me with a solid base. Because, I don’t know about you but it’s freaking hard to keep the creative juices flowing when “one” (who, me?) is worried about rent and food. After all people, we’re talking Maslow’s lowest rung on the pyramid here! And as much as I was loving writing missives to my subscribers, it wasn’t fully and literally sustaining me.

But that made me sad. Because I can’t not write! And I want to write. And I love staying connected. So, I’ve decided I’d just do it more lo-key, less formal. (And here ends the Little Tanget) So:

I took Scared’s hand and we kept doing our laps. And there, in the middle of Danehy Park, it came to us—Scared and me—that Scared doesn’t really have to be so scary.

Hmmmmm! Interesting about that. And that’s when my April blog series was born: Taking the S out of Scared!

And, want to know something really cool? April is Earth Month! That’s right! All about recycling and reusing. So, rather than throwing a letter away, we are going to reuse it.

Besides, even if it weren’t Earth Month, doesn’t the thought of throwing a super sexy scrumptious letter like S away just break your heart? (If it doesn’t, do not even tell me). And, besides-besides: it also happens that April is National Poetry Month, and, um, hel-lo! what sort of a disrespectful dipshit would throw away a letter during Poetry Month? Not I. Oh no, not I.

So, good all around. Everyone is happy. Scared gets to get taken care of. No letter will be left behind. And Heidi gets to write.

Stay tuned for my musings on reusing the S.

And, my IttyBiz? Why, I’d love you to come see me for a massage