Body basics. Or, how to get animal-you to adore you.

Posted by | April 24, 2012 | Leave a Comment

Your body. It tells you things. All the time it tells you things! Basic, uncomplicated things. No assembly required, things. No thinking required, things.

Gather ’round, my friends, let’s have a listen to our animal-bodies!

Bodies say: drink. They say: pee. They say: eat. Move. Rest. Shit. Sleep.

Like I said, basic. Whew! What a relief.

The complications happen when we argue. “I don’t have time,” is probably the favorite argument. The body does NOT buy it. Not for a second. It says, “I’m hungry, can you feed me now.”

Maybe your body is telling you to rest. “Rest,” it says. So really, that is all there is to know, isn’t it? Your body is smart, so smart. It knows.

Maybe your body is telling you that it would like movement. Maybe you can especially hear your hips asking for movement, or maybe it’s your neck, or your shoulders, or your whole body all at once with one big happy (or sad, or angry…) living room, move it like it feels, dork-dance.

Were you, just then, about to argue? Something about your bum knee? (By the way, your body will never tell you to put all your weight on your bum knee. There are many ways to move. Your body is smart. It will help you.)

Maybe your body is asking for fresh air and light: a walk around the pond, maybe? A walk around the block? A run in the woods? Gosh, maybe it wants a day trip to the ocean?

Notice if you want to argue. Are you telling yourself all the reasons you can’t? Your body doesn’t buy them. Also, it won’t argue back. It will simply live the consequences of no rest, no movement, no fresh air, no ocean.

When our bodies live out the consequences of not getting the basics, it’s not about them being mean and being the enemy. No. When your body lives out a consequence, it just is what it is. Basic, remember?

Is your body telling you to pee? Are you making it wait longer than it wants? Bladders really don’t like to be kept waiting. (Excuse me, I’ll be right back!)

Is your body telling you to sleep? Do you ignore it? Do you argue with it? Do you stay up past the point of exhaustion? One way I sometimes ignore my body’s signal to sleep is by staying up watching just another (as if!) episode of whatever, when really my body would love to be sleeping.

If you find yourself wanting to argue, pause instead. No need to argue with the argument, either. Pause. Take a breath. Take another… After pausing it is often easier to give your body what it wants. If there is one thing I know about you it is that you are creative. You and your body, together, will know how to give it what it wants. Also, you want to take good care of you. I know you do. And for SURE I know that you’re doing your best. I love that about you.

Your body will always show you first things first, one thing at a time. Bodies are always about now.

You and your body: how wonderful that you have each other! No one else in the world got paired up with you. No one! Lucky ducks, you and your body.

Take good care of each other.

xo
Heidi

Categories: Massage Therapy, Self-care | Tagged: , , | Leave a Comment

Red: A Story and a Birthday Suit!

Posted by | February 10, 2012 | 16 Comments

Want to hear me tell you this story?
Listen here: Red, Birthday Red

Yesterday I painted my nails red. Understand, I am not one to grow long nails, never really have been and certainly not now when I’d never want a client to feel anything even remotely like a long nail on a shoulder, on a back, or while I’m fulcrum-ing their head at that hurts-so-good spot where skull meets neck…

But, the other day, walking past CVS, I was taken back 20 years… And yesterday, on the eve of my birthday, my fingers practically begged me, “Please, can you paint us red?” I just had to oblige. Also, something about now must be reminding me of then…

I was living at 211 Beacon Street in Boston, in studio 3D, although I can assure you that the words “three dimensional” utterly belie the Lilliputian size of the studio I called home for several years in my mid 20′s. It was a shoebox of a place, with a ladder I climbed up to where my futon fit, just barely, in the sleeping loft a couple of feet from the ceiling… a place where you were likely to bump your head if your dared to stand up tall, and a place where, too many times to tell, something like a ceiling fell. Yes, that’s right, a ceiling.

Fairfield Realty was the name of the management company for the building of my shoebox studio, and for $475 a month in the Back Bay of Boston they would practically look you in the face, laugh, and proceed to tell you you were lucky —yes, lucky— which was shorthand for they’d not be fixing your bathroom ceiling anytime soon. Like I said, it was not a place where a girl could stand up tall.

But I had a friend. Her name was Katherine. She lived on Marlborough Street, a block away, in a studio with an actual bedroom and ceilings that didn’t fall.

“Waterstones later?” Katherine would ask.

“Yes!” I’d reply.

Waterstones was an enormous, three-story, palace of a bookstore in a beautiful, old, stone building on Essex Street. It became my second home, a place I could while away long New England winter weekend afternoons, a place where I could, for a few hours, not notice that it was dark:thirty in the afternoon and oh-so-cold and getting colder.

This is how it went: after a quick hi-how-are-you kiss in the lobby Katherine and I would split up to do a walk-through, each of us perusing our favorite shelves and sections, gathering our stack for the day. Mine would invariably include new fiction, or women’s studies, or poetry, or psychology, the latter to find out what the hell was wrong with me. Thankfully, at Waterstones I also met many poets, alive and not, and they made me feel understood in the way that even the most perfect psychological diagnosis never could. Discovering Letters To a Young Poet was like finding a pack of letters in a bottle just for me. Mr. Rilke got me. And there’s nothing like feeling gotten, nothing. Mr. Neruda had grown up in the very city I had in Southern Chile. He knew endless rain, the kind you could feel in your bones, and he talked about love being round like a watermelon. And oh but I wanted a melon like that. And on and on… At Waterstones poets became friends.

After our walk-through, Katherine —who, whatever else she may have ended up carrying, always had at least one book, if not five, from the Humor-Comedy shelves in her stack— and I would meet at our predetermined spot by the big comfy chairs by the windows on the third floor —choice #1—  or, if the window chairs were full, in the quiet corner over by psychology, sitting cross-legged on the floor —choice #2. And there we’d read the afternoon well away into the evening, every so often looking up to tell each other something we’d found.

Those were paycheck to paycheck pay the rent and just buy food kind of days, so I never did buy many books at Waterstones, but please believe me, dearest palace of a bookstore, that any extra money I ever had did go to you and I was heartbroken the day I went back to visit you, after I’d moved to a place where I could stand up, and I saw the closed-for-business sign on your front doors. My heart sinks all over again just remembering.

Often Katherine and I read until 11, practically closing the place down, but sometimes, getting back to nails, we’d hop across the street to CVS, the drug store, to try on shades of red polish. Usually it was at Katherine’s urging, but I can’t say she ever had to twist my arm all that much.

There we stood, making single streaks of red on our nails, trying on a million shades, until we found the one we liked. We’d leave the store, our nails looking like bloody zebras, but our hearts warm with laughter.

It’s my birthday today. Happy birthday to me! Many things have changed since those shoebox studio days. For one, I can stand tall where I live. For two, I do something I love. For three, there’s you, and this here me writing to you. For four… oh there are more, many more. And yet, some things about now are reminding me of then and, truth be told, it’s scaring me just a bit. So this here is me, ushering in a new life year in the spirit of red —kindness, laughter and friendship— on some gray-feeling days.

Also, I have a something for you. Presents! Wheee! In celebration of the color red and my birthday, I’d love to include a free 1/2 oz. jar of Birthday Suit in any order you place between today, Feb. 10 and next Friday, Feb. 17.

Birthday Suit? you ask.

Why yes! Birthday Suit is the name of the Aardvark Essentials healing base cream (the one all the essential oil potions come in)… People have been raving about its healing goodness… one client told me that it was actually helping his acne, another customer mentioned that her husband is using up her jar, and several clients have raved about how quickly their new tattoos healed when they used it. Birthday Suit is completely organic. So, go ahead and place an order for anything, and I will include a 1/2 oz. jar of Birthday Suit for you, on me. I mean, not ON me. On me, as in, free. Ooof, now that we’re clear about that—

P.S. I’d love birthday wish martinis and wish candles in the comments. Maybe you’ll tell me about your favorite shade of red. Or something you noticed today that gave you joy. Or something that moved you. Or, where you lived when you were 25. Or maybe you’ll pick a beautiful word, or make a bouquet of lines. Or tell me about your favorite bookstore. Or…

P.P.S. On Wednesday, February 15, I’m teaching a teleclass on Essential Oils. Check it out! (Hope to ‘see’ you there!)

Categories: Aardvark Essentials, Heidi's Stories, Moods 'n' emotions, Self-care | Tagged: , , , , | 16 Comments

a quiet hello

Posted by | January 11, 2012 | Leave a Comment

The Pause–
it’s on the corner of Now and Notice,
where that old dive, Reaction,
used to be.

Happy hour every day!
Come in any attire,
all moods welcome.

Also? Hottest bartender ever
—ahem!—
Presence is his name.

Be sure to try their signature drink
Patience, I think it’s called—
not sure of the secret ingredient,
but from what I can tell
it’s got some muddled Time,
macerated in oak barrel-aged Joy.
Seriously? Best drink ever.
(And don’t worry about getting drunk
on it, even the hangover is great!)

The Pause, meet me there?

~ * ~

The hoopla and flash of December have passed… the days are short, the nights are long, and the trees are bare.

Ahh, January, hello there. And hello you, curious reader. How are you and 2012 getting on?

I remember a phone conversation with my youngest brother around this time several years ago… Summer girl that I am, I was probably complaining about
winter. Danny, on the other hand, loves winter and I just had to know why.

“The trees are bare,” he said, “and I can see so much more when the trees are bare.”

Interesting, isn’t it?

Danny is right. Bare-branch days give us wide angle lenses, perfect for seeing the bigger picture.

When I take a moment to pause and get a sense of 2012 and what it might want for me, I feel it a-buzz with energy. It’s not the hyper and static-y buzz of television, but a kind of glowing warm hum…

I listen more… Yes, 2012 wants me to fall in love with life. Oh wait, it’s got more… it says you can’t love things you don’t notice, and that you are much more likely to notice things when you pause.

Ahh, to pause. It’s the easiest and the hardest thing to do. And it’s my aspiration for 2012.

And you? Have you checked in with 2012 to find out what it might want for you? Give it a try. Often we think we need to make things happen… making things happen is tiring and usually involves a lot of things we think we should do but in our heart of hearts aren’t fully on board about.

What happens when you get quiet for a moment, look through the bare trees, and ask your life what it wants for you?

If it’d help you to write it out loud and tell us what it says, you can add a comment below, or drop me a line. I’m here, and I’d love to hear.

Also? My office is open and my massage table warmer is on. Mmmm… Here are my hours this week:

Thursday 11 a.m. – 8 p.m.
Friday 9 a.m. – 8 p.m.
Saturday 8:30 a.m. – 1 p.m.

(And yes, there are openings!)

Listening and curious about what’s in store, and looking forward to seeing you soon…

Heidi

Categories: Noticing, Self-care | Tagged: , | Leave a Comment

3 a.m. cribsheet

Posted by | October 12, 2011 | 2 Comments

Things may be hard. So hard they may be waking you up at 3 in the morning. You try to keep sleeping but no: now the soundtrack is going… you know, the  soundtrack  of all the things you suspect are related to how your shoulders feel so tight, not to mention that knot in your belly, or the dull ache between your temples…

It’s too much: too much pressure, too much to do, too much to keep track of, too much noise, too much work, too many messages, too many things… Too much, you think.

Even while it feels like not enough. Not enough time, not enough money, not enough business, not enough lovin’… Not enough, you think.

And you are tired. So tired. If only you could rest, you think. You try to remember when you last sat in the sun and read for an hour. You want to get away… But there’s so much to take care of, you think.

Maybe you have a business. Maybe you have a family. There are people you feel responsible for, or to… Or maybe it’s just you, and maybe that is the thought that wakes you: I am alone, you think.

Oh sweetest heart, come. What I want to tell you is simple, and yet we forget it all the time. I do. (Why do you think I’m writing it to you right now, before I go to bed?!)

Dearest heart,

You do not need to hold yourself up. You do not need to keep it together. The ground, it is strong. And it’s right there under you at 3 in the morning or afternoon. Supporting you. Let the ground hold you. All of you:

Head? Yes.
Butt? For sure.
Neck? Absolutely.
Arms? Ahhhhrms.
Legs? Mmmmm.
Back? The ground has got your back, for sure!

See if you can let yourself be held.

Also, the air? It’s free, my love, free! No need to skimp. Your neck and shoulders will appreciate the rest they get when your breathing is gentle and deep. Also, you might try this if ever you feel yourself anxious and struggling for breath: let yourself be breathed. Notice how air enters and leaves, enters and leaves. Again and again. What a relief.

Oh my love, I know you know all this, you just forget.

Here’s a crib sheet for 3 a.m. Tuck it under you pillow if you want:

Strong ground. Generous, free air.
Let the ground hold you.
Let the air breathe you.

What a relief.

Oh and too (lest you forget)?

You are loved.

What’s that? By whom?

Ahhh… here’s a thought: How ’bout you fall asleep counting loves! (Sheep are so last century). Count people who love you, past present future. People you love, ever… Things you love… Animals… Places…

Sweet dreams, my sweet…

*Kissing your forehead… slipping out quietly*

Categories: Massage Therapy, Self-care | | 2 Comments

Atlas, Hercules and your neck

Posted by | September 9, 2011 | 4 Comments

I’m going to tell you a little story. It may be a story you know, but I bet you’ve never thought of it in quite this way before. It’s a story that sometimes comes to mind when I am massaging my clients’ necks and heads, loosening up all the tension that tends to accumulate there.

Ready? Here, I saved a spot for you on the bench… Make yourself comfy.

Once upon a time there was a Titan named Atlas. The Titans were giants and Atlas, for sure, was gi-normous. Anyway, the Titans had lost a battle with the Greek gods and so, as punishment, the gods made Atlas hold up the sky, and some say, the whole world.

What’s that you say? … Oh yes. That would get tiring on the shoulders even for a giant, for sure!

Anyway… Atlas, poor guy, held up the sky for years and years until one day Hercules came along looking for some golden apples. (Let’s save the story of the golden apples and why Hercules was so desperate to find them for another rainy day, OK?).

Atlas said, “Herc, what’s up? You look distraught.”

“I’m looking for some golden apples.”

“Finding those apples seems very important to you–”

“You have no idea! I’d do anything to get them. Anything.”

“Um, as it turns out, I happen to know where they are.”

“You do?!”

“Yes. If you hold up the world for me, I’ll go get them for you.”

Hercules happened to also be very strong, not quite as strong as Atlas the giant, but very strong nonetheless and he reeeeally wanted those apples. In fact, you could say that getting those apples was more important to him than pretty much anything else in the world. And so it was that Hercules agreed.

Soon Atlas came back and, sure enough, he had the golden apples. As he got closer he noticed Hercules sweating and grunting from holding up all that weight and he thought to himself, “Know what? That there is actually not a job I want to take back.”

Now Hercules could see what Atlas was thinking and he did not like it one bit. So he thought up a trick.

“Wow, thanks, Atlas!” he said.

“No problem, man. I’ll leave them right here for you. Actually, I’ll even tuck them in your pockets… OK then, goodbye. It’s been nice doing business with you.”

“Oh uh, say, before you go… I wonder if you could help me with something.”

“Possibly…”

“As you know, this is some heavy heavy weight to hold and I’d like to get myself more comfortable in this position here… Could you hold the sky up for me for just a minute while I go get myself some padding for my shoulders?”

“Um… OK but just for a minute.”

So Atlas took back the sky from Hercules, and Hercules, of course, did not come back. [Insert expletive!] And that’s the story of how Atlas ended up with the weight of the world on his shoulders.

What’s that?… You’re wondering what happened to him?

Well, no one really knows, of course, but eventually, it is believed, he turned into a mountain. In fact, the Atlas mountains in Northwestern Africa, are named for him. As is a bone in your body! No kidding. Can you guess which one?

Yes, exactly! The very first vertebra (C1) in your spine, the one at the tippy top where your neck meets your head, is also named after Atlas.

Go ahead, check it out. Reach your hand behind you and find your spine at about shoulder level. You’ll know you’re on your spine by its bumpy ridgy stick-y-out-y bits. Each one of those bumps corresponds to a vertebra.

Now inch your fingers up the spine, over the bumps, until you reach the base of your skull/head… Right there, yes. Good.

Now go ahead and say hi to Atlas and his band of supporting tissues (made of muscles, ligaments and fascia).

Hiiiiiii!

Good. Since you’re there, why not give Atlas and Company a good squeeze. I call it the mama cat squeeze, with your hand being the cat and the fascia and connective tissue in your neck being the kitten:

Cup one hand into a C shape and reach it around to hold onto the back (scruff) of your neck. Now pretend you’re a mama cat picking up her kitten by the neck: squeeze and pull until your palm (area closest to wrist) and finger tips come together… Ahhhhh…

After doing the mama cat squeeze a few times, go ahead and roll your head around in slow, small little circles. Slowwwww… Take the opportunity to breathe while you’re at it!

If you’ve been sitting for awhile staring at a screen (ahem!) you may well hear little crackly sounds when you do this… that is the sound of your joints saying, “Thankyouthankyouthankyou! FI-nally someone is moving us!”

Movement is what keeps your joints nice and lubricated… Lubricated joints are happy joints. Dry and sticky joints that have not gotten movement, are not happy. (And the lubrication, called “synovial fluid,” is already right there in your joints. You do not even have to get your squirt gun.)

“Ahhhhhh”… I swear I just heard your Atlas moan. “Ahhhh…”

That there is the sound of one very appreciative wee bone that has the equivalent of a bowling ball sitting on top of it day in and day out. Yes, your head weighs somewhere between 8 – 12 lbs. Not counting hair!

That is all for today. Thank you for taking these moments with me and with Atlas.

If you live in the Boston area and would like me to work on your Atlas and Company, please give me a call or email me. I’d love to help.

There are even a few openings left this week: two today(!), Friday. And one tomorrow, Saturday, afternoon.

Until soon, I hope–
Heidi

Categories: Massage Therapy, Self-care | Tagged: , , , | 4 Comments

Wherein you shimmy for my guests while I get out of this trance. [mwah!] I owe you.

Posted by | July 26, 2011 | 1 Comment

These two guys appeared on my doorstep this morning. They won’t tell me their names so for the moment I am calling them by what’s printed on their T-shirts:

“Is this all there is?” and “What’s the point?”

Ever since they arrived, I’ve had a queasy knot in my belly and my chest is all a-rumble. When I stop distracting myself with things to put in my mouth, links to click, sites to check, worries to fondle, I feel scared. I’m afraid they’re right.

Now you might be saying that I should just throw them out. And I appreciate your idea. Except that it doesn’t really work. Not really.

I know how trying to ignore or get rid of things I don’t like inside myself goes. I did it for many years and it just makes things change clothes and come back in another form. I can totally see these T-shirt guys coming back in drag. Or taking hold of my body and becoming a pain in my neck. Or butt. Things I try to ignore or banish can totally put my back out. Ow! And let’s not forget how they can make me anxious, and how anxious can grind everything to a halt. Including sleep.

Um, no thanks.

It’s just that I need help. I can’t do it alone. So, I was wondering… um, how to say…

Hi!

You: “You talking to me?” [turning around to see if someone's behind you.]

Yes, you! You’re my smart and courageous reader. Please?

You: “I want you to be OK. It’s just, I don’t know what to do, really… ”

OK. Here’s the thing. I don’t want to be alone. I’m scared. But with you? Different story. Then I’m not alone. You and me is two, and there might be others. Plus, I’ve seen your dance moves and your air guitar… You could totally entertain them, I just know. All you have to do is keep them occupied while I remember who I am. And I’ll totally return the favor. One day I’ll do my best moves for you when you need me.

You: “OK. I’ll try. I want you to be OK.”

Oh wow! Thanks man. Now excuse me while I find my curiosity superpowers… I know I left them here somewhere… Oh, it’s been too long… Ah, there! Good.

—–

Donning my curiosity cape, I re-enter the scene. I can move around freely and see everything. Including you! Oh my, you have totally been practicing your shimmies, haven’t you. My friend, you are amazing. If I didn’t have things to do, I’d totally join you. Maybe later. But now, I’m investigating.

Since they haven’t talked to me, I’ll start with what’s on their shirts. The words look like questions. Except they’re not. Because they contain no curiosity. A true question is curious, open minded and willing to listen, to hear. A true question is wonder-y.

My thought-guys’ questions are very thinly veiled conclusions about me and my life. And the implications of their non-questions really scare me when I believe them. Which I am. I’m TOTALLY believing them. Which can only mean:

I’ve. Gone into. TRANCE!

No wonder! OK. I’ve noticed. Whew! Noticing is crucial. It’s at least, oh, 99%.

Once I notice I’m in trance, then I can send the part of me that noticed, the part NOT in trance (even if it’s just the eensiest bit of me right now) to pull out my sheet of trance procedures trance magics. That’s the other 99%! (Yep.)

ONE. Call yourself only by the sweetest, kindest of names. Sweetheart is good. My love works wonders. Darling drumstick makes you smile. Sweet pea reminds you of people you love.

TWO. Under no circumstances believe any thought crossing your mind while in trance. Don’t try to stop the thoughts. Don’t fight them. But also, don’t believe them. Trust me. Don’t.

Things to do instead of believing thoughts while in trance: You can notice them, you can play Byron Katie with them, you can Veronica Mars them, you can put them in a jar, you can make daisy chains out of them, you can chew on them and blow thought bubbles with them, you can juggle them, you can make soup with them, you can build a tower out of them and lean against it while you eat lunch. But whatever you do: Do NOT Believe Them.

OK, good. Onward:

THREE. Write. Write. Write.

“But I suck. And I have nothing to write about,” says a tranced out voice.

To which I must refer you back to thing ONE and TWO. Also, I’d like to point out that “You Suck” is not a name you like.

FOUR. Get fresh air. Get movement. Find water. Take a shower. Take a bath. Take a lake. Dance. Watch the kids run through the sprinkler at the park. Take pictures of trees. Eat meals. Drink water. Mind your body. Remember animal-you. Remember Mary Oliver: “Let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.” Which reminds me, you love poetry, so… Read it.

FIVE. Visit The Pause. (Dude! The Pause just opened a page a bar on Facebook. Go! Hang out!)

SIX. Do not, under any circumstance, try to make decisions while in trance.

SEVEN. Call a meeting of your Inner Council.

EIGHT. Listen to a Tara Brach podcast.

NINE. With your Inner Council or with Presence at The Pause, consider this: If you weren’t believing those 2 thought-doozies, what would you be feeling? And then do THREE. Or FOUR. Or EIGHT. In any order.

Rinse and repeat. Until the trance lifts.

———–

Oh my. Thank you so much! You saved my butt. Yes, you! I’m going to be pondering the question in NINE… maybe I’ll write about it here, maybe not. But thank you!

Hey, will you teach me that move? The one that had my beefy thought-guys laughing so hard they were crying?

Until next time, maybe I’ll see you at The Pause. In case you forgot, it’s on the corner of Now and Notice, where that old dive Reaction used to be. Presence tends bar. Shots of compassion on me today.

Categories: Getting curious, Mood detective, Self-care | Tagged: | 1 Comment

Pause Tag. Want to play?

Posted by | July 3, 2011 | 3 Comments

There’s a game of Pause Tag going on!

Pause Tag requires no special equipment. No special clothes. You can pause in your jammies, in your favorite T-shirt, in your stripey socks, or barefoot. You can Pause in your birthday suit or decked out in your fancypants. You can pause in any size or color…

You can pause on a lake or while you bake, in your head or on your bed, in a chair or on a dare… You can pause most anywhere!

You can pause alone or you can pause in company.

You can pause in any mood. Sultry or mean, baffled or green… Happy or sad, lonely or mad. No matter how you’re feeling, you can pause.

You can pause for short, medium or long. You can pause for itty bitty, so-so, or mega.

Best of all, when you’ve been tagged to be It, it doesn’t matter if you’re fast or slow: unlike other games of tag, Pause Tag does not require speed. But if you happen to be speedy that’s great too!

When you’ve been Pause-tagged, you’ll know. You can pretend not to know and keep running and hiding, but it won’t feel good. Matter o’ fact, when you first start playing Pause Tag, not feeling good might be how you first know you’re It. You might feel dizzy and tired… maybe you’ll feel overwhelmed and icky in your tummy… your running might feel wobbly, like you have spaghetti legs… Don’t worry. You’ll get the hang of being It and as you get more practice at playing Pause Tag, you won’t have to wait to not feel great before you know it’s time to pause. You’ll see. I promise.

Pause Tag can be played with any number of people: 1 – 6.93 billion. Also, there is no limit to how many people can be It at once. Pause Tag is magical: there will always be a balance between movement and rest.

Pause Tag is the best game ever. Want to play?

Categories: Self-care | Tagged: | 3 Comments

Baby, ain’t nothin’ too small

Posted by | June 26, 2011 | 4 Comments

Baby, ain’t nothin’ too small I wouldn’t do for you… I got up for you. I stirred the oatmeal for you. I changed the toilet paper roll for you. I took out your guitar for you. I learned a new chord and sang a song for you. I watched Veronica Mars with you. I sautéed garlic scapes and scrambled that egg for you. I made popcorn for you. I watched more Veronica Mars with you. I living room-danced with you. I sat down for you. I sighed with you, I cried with you and then I wrote this note for you. I stood back up for you. I made more popcorn for you. I watched another Veronica Mars with you and then I copied this note and posted it for you. Baby, ain’t nothin’ too small… #selfcare

And you? How did you love you today?

Categories: Self-care | | 4 Comments

Wherein a pirate chicken of the high seas helps me with my writing

Posted by | June 3, 2011 | Leave a Comment

[You may recall back in February when a secret agent chicken saved me from crossing over from a regular into a full throttled meltdown. Yes? Well, yesterday another chicken, this time a pirate chicken, came to my aid... Here, I'll let you eavesdrop on our conversation... ]

HeidiHi!

Um, hi… you’re a chicken. With a pirate cap and an eyepatch. Um–

What! You asked for help, didn’t you?

Yes. But–

What’s wrong, sweetpea? You look terribly distraught.

Aside from thinking I’ve now gone a bit crazy what with you standing in front of me? Yes I’m distraught. I can’t write!

You can’t write?

I mean, I can, but just not about this thing I reeeally need to write about. I keep trying and thinking about it and there all these notes in my notebook about it, but when I go to write, I do one of a million other things instead. I’ve had 5 cups of tea this morning, chicken. Five! And it’s only 10.

Wow.

I just don’t know how to start.

How about you tell me about what you want to write. Maybe I’ll ask you questions, maybe not, but I want to hear… How about it!

OK.

And then maybe you can start writing it on me.

On you?

Yep. On me.

Like, on your chicken body?

Eggzactly.

Sounds like how my mom used to trick me into giving her a backrub by suggesting I spell things on her back and she’d guess what I’d written?

Maybe, ‘cept that I’m helping you, remember?

[I raise a suspicious brow]

OK OK it’s true that my left wing could use a little massagin’ ’cause steerin’ a chicken ship full o’ loot, well, it can take a toll on a chicken’s wings, you know? But how I see it we could both benefit from each other here, so how about you start moving that little finger of yours, and we’ll see what happens.

[I shrug, look around to see if anyone is looking, and then start to write on the pirate chicken]

So Heidi, tell me about this thing that you keep not writing about—

It’s about the quality that makes our newest potion so magical…

Ooooh! Potion! How exciting.

I know. It is. I mean, it would be, if I could just get this page written already so that our people will know what it’s all about!

So tell me about this magical quality… whatever is it!

Oh it’s just about the most magical thing ever. It is a way of being with yourself and in the world that allows you and the world to change in an organic, unforced way.

What’s wrong with forcing change?

Nothing wrong in and of itself with force as an energy when that is the natural way of something. But when there is a kind of pushing or pulling on something ahead of its time, before it’s ready? Well, then things can become muddied and tangled up, and then, even if on the surface the thing goes and changes (or appears to), it usually comes with a price because there were all these other factors that weren’t ready, parts of us or people that were not on board… maybe they were dragged along… Oftentimes, then, the change doesn’t really stick because those other forces were not accounted for…

Sounds like what plays out in our world politically.

Yep. Same. Usually the party or country or race or gender or part of us with the most power wins… Thing is, even if by all accounts the change that is forced is a “good” one, it will often backfire… Many times, then, there is some sort of violence that comes about because what was pushed away comes to the surface. Just because we shut something up doesn’t mean it went away, after all. Like all the wars that start seemingly out of the blue, until you look back and notice all the people that were exiled and the voices that were stifled…

Oh, Heidi, I know about something like this from my very own chicken life! I remember all those years when my momma told me just to keep laying eggs, saying that THAT is what chickens were meant to do blah blah blah… I tried, I really tried… And I kept pushing on myself to be an egg-laying chicken, telling myself I should… but I didn’t like it one bit. And then I thought surely something was wrong with me that I couldn’t be happy just layin’ eggs and so I made myself try to be happy laying eggs. Well, eventually I got sick and my feathers started falling out and the few that I had left were very lackluster… oh my but I sure was a sad chicken. “Depressed” is what I think you human birds call it.

I can hardly imagine you as lackluster. Just look at your feathers now… just you look at these golden & coral highlights here! Say, who’s your stylist?

Darlin’, them’s my natural hues!

No way! Surely thou jesteth.

I jesteth not! Cross my wings.

Wow. Just lovely. Mind if I snap a picture?

Yes actually. I’m rather shy ’round cameras.

You? Shy?

<shrugs>

OK… So what happened then? How did you get from the coop to the high seas? I mean, that’s quite a ways to go!

One night I tried to fly away. But flying turned out to be wishful thinking for a chicken with hardly a feather on his wings. You ever try flying without feathers?

Uh, can’t say I have. Actually, can’t say I’ve really ever seen a chicken flying, either.

Oh Baby, hang out with me some more. Just you wait ‘n’ see. But, back to my story… I knew if I stayed, I’d die. I had to get out. No matter how I did it, I had to. It wasn’t about forcing anything, it was just what had to happen. It wasn’t even a decision I made, come to think, I just knew.

So how’d you do it?

Well, I’d been noticing the farm dog digging at a spot by the fence and the farmer hadn’t had a chance to fix it. It would be a tight squeeze, for sure, but like I said, this was life or death. It was all I could do to crawl under the fence and hobble myself to the forest, but somehow I did, and there I holed up in an abandoned nest near a stream for a few days before heading on a journey the destination of which I wasn’t even sure. All I knew for sure was that the chicken coop was no place for me… Verylongstoryshort, now here I am a Pirate Chicken, JohnnyDepping it up on the high seas.

Oh Chicken, that’s quite a story. If Oprah still had a show, surely she’d invite you on as guest chicken. Maybe even with Johnny Badass Depp’s Captain Sparrow!

<blushes>

Your story is reminding me about a very important aspect in this thing I’m having a hard time writing about…

What’s that, Heidi?

A sure indication that one is trying to force oneself or someone else into change, is that it is accompanied by a boatload of shoulds… “You should be like this, or else!” What I’ve noticed is that the part of us that is shoulding is usually scared or concerned about something. I can tell because when I’m embodying this quality that I’m trying to write about, then I can listen openly and curiously to even the most difficult things inside me without pushing or pulling… The shoulding part often says things like: “If you don’t ___, then ___ [insert terrible or unwanted thing] will happen. You better or else!”

Heidi, could you move over and write just a little bit to the left there… keep going… ahhhhhh yes, right there. Oh I’ve had a knot there for a week!… Oh yeah…. So what you’re saying is that being with yourself in this way you are trying to write about is what allows change to come in its time, in an unforced and natural way?

Yes! This way of being allows change to happen when is best, when everything is ready. Allows! I love that word. This quality is about allowing. Change that comes about in this manner usually starts happening way before it becomes obvious on the surface…

Like in Egypt earlier this year?

Yes, like in Egypt!

Like when I left the coop?

Yes, like that.

But you know, Heidi, I kind of already knew I should leave way before I actually left.

Ah, yes. But, for whatever reason, you weren’t ready, because you didn’t… not yet. Notice how there was still a “should” in how you were talking to yourself: “I should leave,” which implies that not all of you was on board. And when you were ready, you did. Not a minute before.

Interesting…

This quality I want to write about is so helpful during those stages when things are shifting below the surface… It can be a very hard time filled with confusion and fear and pressure… What I want to write about helps us be with all these conflicting parts of ourselves… I’m sure the part of you that wasn’t ready to leave could probably have used some understanding!

Oh Heidi, I’m going to cry just remembering.

That was hard a hard time, wasn’t it?

Oh you have no idea. All those years in the coop trying to lay eggs, surrounded by all these chickens who loved nothing more than laying eggs? And they were my friends too. I loved them. Still do. I didn’t fly the coop much sooner because I was scared. I thought they wouldn’t love me if I wasn’t an egg-laying chicken like them. I thought I’d lose my family and be alone in all the world if I did what I needed to do. But you know what? If I hadn’t been able to leave and live the way I love, I can’t say I wouldn’t have taken to desperate measures within the coop. As it was I was mean and grumpypants for a long time.

Yes, when things are forced to be a way that is not really of their nature, then other parts have to go into hiding… Maybe we pretend those dissenting voice aren’t there, but they are. They come out sideways. They come out to bite us in the ass when we least expect it. Or they wake us up at 3 in the morning. Eventually, if shunned or vilified too long, they amp up the volume. Sometimes they get violent.

Sounds like terrorism.

Yep…. Oh Chicken, you have quite a story! Who knew!

Now that you say it, and now that I’m remembering all this, yes. So tell me, this quality you want to write about, well, it is, I mean, it could potentially, um, change everything!

Oh the irony, yes! This quality, which is all about being with something exactly the way it is, without trying to make it change, can change everything! It has helped me more than I can say. Which is what I’m trying to say here. It’s amazing.

I want to know more. Please can you tell me everything? Pleeeease?

I will, I promise. But my writing block just lifted and I must go write that potion page about this quality.

Right now?

Yesssss! When you have to go you have to go!

But what’s the quality called?

Well you’ll just come have to read it when I’m done, won’t you? Thanks Chicken!

Categories: Getting curious, Self-care | Tagged: , | Leave a Comment

The Pause: Not what I asked for

Posted by | April 3, 2011 | 1 Comment

I went to The Pause again today. I needed something, though I wasn’t sure what. Before retreating to a table, I stopped to order a shot of patience. Presence was tending bar, as usual.

“I’ll be at that table,” I told him, pointing to a secluded spot in the corner. He nodded.

A few minutes later a curvy, twinkle-eyed server set before me a bowl of soup.

“Oh, uh… I think there’s been a mistake. I ordered patience.”

“No mistake,” she smiled, “compliments of the chef.” I opened my mouth in protest, but she’d already turned. I watched her figure disappear into the kitchen.

I stared at my soup, and then, with a sigh, unfolded my napkin. A scrolled, ribbon-tied paper fell onto my lap.

“Try a little tenderness. On the house.”

Signed,

Kindness
Head Chef, The Pause

Categories: Self-care | Tagged: | 1 Comment
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