Been reading Pamela Grout’s book, E2, in which she creates nine experiments to test the hypothesis that humans are essentially bundles of energetic frequencies. We draw to us what matches the frequency that we give off. I chronicled my first experiment in another post.
According to Grout, our very thoughts affect our frequencies. When our frequencies are high, the energy field in our body is expansive and big. The hangers respond by opening wide. Conversely, when our thoughts are low, they in turn decrease the frequency of our energy field and pull inward, drawing the hangers together and crossing them. Further, when attention is focused in a specific direction, the hangers respond by moving toward the direction of the object / person toward which we are turning our attention.
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I’m overhauling my internal structures right now after an amazing shamanic coaching session with Fabeku Fatunmise, birther of identities and (going on) five years of deepish soul exploring. Feel like I’m just beginning!
I have been reading a book – a lab journal – in which Pamela Grout proposes that our thoughts create the fabric of our reality. She calls this the field of possibilities or “FP.” Grout’s book,E2, contains nine experiments that the reader can conduct to test out the hypothesis that we humans are mostly big balls of magnetic energy and that the frequencies of our thoughts draw to us whatever matches that frequency. Simple math would suggest that if you want happy-making “thing,” direct your thoughts in a deliberate way toward those happy-making things.
The first experiment suggests that the reader invite the FP to make itself known clearly. It is an exercise in noticing and focusing attention toward a specific thing. Eventually I am going for a set of tuning forks because, well, Internet, and the resultant burgeoning interest in frequency and its affect on our bodies / experiences. With an intention and some focused thinking, give the field of possibility 48 hours to show up unmistakably, Grout’s first experience asks.
After dropping the kids off at school the next morning, I began to think in earnest about this. You know that thing where you never think about yellow Volkswagens, but then once you notice one, you notice eleven more between there and home? “Instead of yellow, I want to see that bright avocado green I love,” I thought to myself.
By the time the thought had fully formed as I sat at the red light, a city bus passed me whose entire butt was emblazoned with the exact color I had in mind. I laughed in what might be called wonder. To me a bus speaks of moving big groups of people in a direction they want to go. That sounds like it’s on track for how I want to invest my time here on this planet on this go round.
I was ruminating on the significance of a green bus as I continued driving home. About a block away, I drove past a strip mall and as I glanced to it on my right, there was bright green logo emblazoned across the front of the building. It read: “P H O N E.” Communication. Getting messages across.
These things are delish. Their mango is also amazing. Also girl wallowing in the abundance of creation and showing gratitude for it backlit, of course, by the green I was looking for.
“That’s kind of cool. I wonder if it’s too much to ask for three?” I thought, keeping my eye out for green. A few miles went by.
Nada.
Crickets.
Earlier that morning to make use of the ridiculously inconvenient hour between when my kids’ schools begin, I took the boychildren to buy some breakfast snacks. My favorite “chia vitality beverage” was on sale. I bought six and opened one. I’d been nursing it all morning and was almost finished. Reaching into the console to take take the last drink, what do you think I found? That’s right, a girl in the middle of a flower petal mashup, making an offering and seeding or planting her soul. How about that?
There I am, wearing what I’m looking for.
A block from my home, I was kind of disappointed. I was getting greedy now. I wanted another one. I had only one right turn and then I would pull into my driveway. As I swiped the steering wheel to make the turn, guess what I saw? I was wearing the color. There I was looking for something and I was wearing it the whole time. I am clothed in what I am seeking. It is me I am waiting for to show up. It was about this time that I thought about taking pictures.
That morning, I had an appointment with myself. I had hours before I needed to pick the kids up, so I was planning on doing a tutorial, and other than that, just diving into some more reading on this energy thing. I pulled into my driveway and checked a Facebook thread that I’ve been following before getting out of the car. In the thread, someone I respect very much recommended a book that I decided I wanted. That reminded me that I needed to go deposit some money in the bank, so I drove downtown to the bank. As I made the last turn before getting to the bank, I saw a new store on the corner. I used to sell industrial safety supplies. Not anymore. Now it is “Puj.”
“Puj” means worship or devotion in Hindi.
In Hindi, Puj means worship or devotion or practice (copy and paste the Hindi of the link into Google Translate). I don’t know what this store does / sells, but I do know that part of my own spiritual awakening is regularly practicing a meditative and intentional ritual that gets me centered in my bigger-than-ego identity. Puj talks about the practice required to be the whole of you-ness with the whole of the rest of it. (Granted, I am not a scholar in Sanskrit, so this is largely personalized.)
Fluent. We Speak Home. Automation. Energy. Security. I’ll take it!
Then I got a little cocky. “How about another?” The sign at the store across from the stop sign read, “Fluent.” Fluent as in getting adept at working with something so that its expression is effortless, a thing of grace.
One more. I wanted one more. What I really wanted was one of those green-butted buses because by that time I knew I would be writing about this. The only buses to pass were black-butted, so no luck there. I did see something green on the road back to my house though. I parked and snapped an image.
Go with confidence? Well, that’s a great idea!
I got home, had some time to do a little centering meditation and then realized I had completely forgotten that I had an SEO tutorial scheduled. When I tuned into the webinar late, the group was critiquing one of the member’s websites. The moderator pulled up a member’s blog page, and we took a dive into a post he’d just written. I laughed again as I saw his logo. Endless entertainment is right!
Does it have to be all struggle and fight? maybe not. Maybe not forever.
I wrote the bulk of this watching my son’s lacrosse practice, sitting in my beach chair. It’s that color. On the way home from practice, we passed a yellow Volkswagen. A girl can’t make this up.
Austin Kleon’s ‘Steal Like an Artist is one of my favorite ever books about creativity. Here is Kleon talking about his process – take the pressure off and create when you can.
Brought to my attention by Fabeku Futanmise. Title taken from Austin’s site.
Birthday gift to myself: watching this video and spending a day listening to what my soul has to say about where we go from here. Well, today was eating Oreo’s and playing Wii with the kids. Tomorrow is soul day.
While on that topic, this video is amazing. It’s all about framing, purpose, and integration. Twenty-seven minutes of gentle mindset reminders and hellz yeah!
My narrator and I woke up feeling the need to write this morning. Today I can process. But process what?–there’s so much… We’ve got the run-in with the Russian mafia which I apparently invited to my home by means of a Craigslist ad advertising for a roommate; we’ve got the roommate situation which is forcing the employment situation; we’ve got the whole sense of self-worth contribution ELEPHANT which seems to be dominating my subconscience realm and absolutely affects the employment issue; there’s last night’s visit with fellow entrepreneurs which started out as a conversation with new friends and ended up with the workings of a loose business plan. And don’t forget the new coping mechanism: my addiction to Words With Friends, an online and interactive Scrabble derivative and brilliant business model.
In Improv class last week, Seminal Life Guru and Improv Instructor, Brad, talked about Tuesdayness, that point when you find yourself on stage with the action pointed your direction, your skirt is up (metaphorically), and inspiration seems to be taking an extended bathroom break. It must have eaten something disagreeable. What do ya do? The answer: take stock of whatever it is you have around you (the given Tuesdayness), go metaphorical with it and see where that leads you.
Going Metaphorical With Scrabble because My Skirt Is Up
I get seven tiles at a time. All conditions must be perfect to get a complete new hand and THAT bonus, but nothing guarantees the quality of a whole new hand. I really want some good letters. I want the position of these letters to be conducive to placement on double and triple letter scores, and ultimately, double and triple word scores. The rub is: I don’t have control over what my partner is going to place, and I don’t have control over what letters I draw. That ‘R’ & ‘J’ look like a liability until an ‘A’ lines up right next door to triple word for ‘RAJ’. I can try to plot a couple of moves ahead, but the whole game changes with the next word. But I do have a repertoire of words from which to create. I really can play only one hand at a time. As it comes to me. And I can’t move until my partner makes a word. It’s not like you can coast in Scrabble–it turns on a dime.
Does that mean that I don’t try to make the best words I can with the letters in my hand? May it never be! Do I try to figure out ways to leverage the work of my partner to bring me benefit? Absolutely. Adding an ‘S’ to ‘TEAK’ makes ‘STEAK’ after all!
More often than not, I stumble upon these gems of insight and think, ‘Where do these connections come from–they are freaking amazing!’ only to dig a little deeper and find that there are already people teaching the application of game theory to life at the corporate and university levels. I don’t like them much–their head-start is daunting. My heart grows a bit saddish that I haven’t figured these things out until now, but then I’ll never be younger than I am today.
I have had this fantasy that I will stumble upon some niche of brilliance which I will dominate and monetize to fund both my inner gypsy and my eventual lifestyle; I have no doubt this will happen and for the first time in my life, I feel that I am not in this game alone. I see that this is going to be more of a process and less of a stumbling. It will be more fun with other people.
And so it is that I find myself un-alone, on stage with my skirt up. It’s my turn in a play of ‘our’ making. (‘Our’ referring to whomever wants to join me.) Not sure if that is really the moral of the story here, but it does present a compelling visual that makes me laugh just a little–but only because it represents EXACTLY how I feel!
A little backstory. In our neighborhood is crazy lady with the red plastic shoes. She (and her blind husband) swear that there is an exotic man-eating (certainly cat-eating) viper that has been let loose in the pond across from our neighborhood. I spent the better part of Saturday afternoon trying to be convinced to call animal control as though I had witnessed said snake to get them to come and take some action. Her calls appear not to be gaining any traction and she’s drafting for witnesses. I’m a little hesitant to believe her, not because of the red shoes, but because it’s pretty freaking cold outside, the snake grows by a foot a day, and her only other witness is her blind husband; nevertheless, I have stricken the path from the list of available bike rides for the children.Won’t I feel like a boob if someone gets bitten?
Giddy after my first official improv class, I hugged all my new best friends and hummed Kumbayah all the way back to my car. Figured out the fastest way to get back over the bridge, plotted my graduate degree and the ways I will market my eventual steeping in this new playland to parents and partners who want to learn to learn to be present for their special people and build dynamic interpersonal skills and to mid-lifers looking for an internal rehaul. The outline to the ebook is taking shape in my mental parking lot. Called today to see if I can stalk Instructor Brad to pick his brain about his anthropology degree, etc. Set a course for adventure and picked up my kids. It was about 10 by the time I retrieved them from some dear friends’ home. They were also wired.
Chloe has taken up residence on my Droid and is using navigation to find her way to and from school, her dad’s house, the Costco (train them up in the way they should go…).
We’re driving home and Chloe suggests someone write an app that can locate all animals in a known location, specifically poisonous snakes across the field from our house. Yes, and, right? “Hey, if you guys could locate any kind of animal on that thing, what would you look for?” What ensued was an improv session in which we all laughed until tears came down our faces. My tears came down my legs, but then those three humans shot out of there and stretched out the muscles on their ways through. We settled on Panda Bears which naturally took us to China; so it was China to which we drove instead of home. We hit the stop sign which was the ocean. Not even WE could drive across the ocean to China, so we sat there and cried. And lamented. It helped that no one was behind us. Matt said he wasn’t really eager to see a panda. We voted him off the island and began to cry again, this time because he couldn’t understand how desperately we craved the viewing of the panda.
They were flawlessly in character and laughing from the belly as we sat there at the edge of the world looking across the pond at China which remained just beyond our reach and stuffed with panda bears. We were in joy.
Chloe turned to me, “Did you learn that at your class tonight?” Did I learn how to turn the ride home into an pan-Asian zoological quest? I guess maybe I did, but I couldn’t have done it without them.
OMG, I loved my improv class, I loved my improv teacher, my fellow brave soldiers in the fight against the wakeful sleeping, the smell of the theater and its green walls, the sense of intellectual play and social interaction, AND the fact that I found free parking in downtown Portland. Also, the Brody Theater has decent toilet paper! Epic hook!!!
Learn to become adept at failing–SO all over that! As the plane is falling apart in mid-air, take the pieces you can grab and build a new plane out of them.
It’s all about making your partners look good and moving the story forward. Check the need to be amazing and gain recognition at the door. Just come to play.
Introducing conflict (v. agreement) makes the story stop until the conflict is resolved. Build rapport. Sometimes you have to agree to lose in order to get past the conflict. So lose already, and keep it moving.
Learn to read other people’s body language by attending. Affirm what they are offering you and build on it. Offer them something back and make it specific so they don’t have to do all the hard work. Yes, AND… Yes, I’ll take that Chinese lady dropping that box of delicate teacups in the airport and I’ll add the snarling guard dog that took a crap on the causeway on which she tripped.
When something stagnates, give it definitive action.
No coasting. After you’ve taken your turn, don’t disengage. The action may come right back to you and you’ll feel like less of an ass if you can incorporate all the nuances and show up as a member of the team.
Talk about what happened and why it worked or didn’t. The most content-rich debrief of the night came as a result of a skit that went kinda wonky. Was the penguin on the moon or headed there and WTH was he doing at Nordstrom, really? Root yourself in place and give it some action (again with the action!)
The audience is friendly after-all. I was rooting for everyone on the hook–and took joy when what they tried worked and sent them supportive juju for the legless. It’s impossible to maintain definitive judgy eyes from a state of pending vulnerability.
On the other side of the heart-stopping terror of failure, ridicule & rejection are other people to whom one can connect authentically. Other people that want to play and are walking the same valley of death. If one can take ego off the table, there’s a pretty good chance to get a clear view of one’s own soul’s demons and angels–an apt metaphor for this sacred ground. This sacred ground is richly textured and provides bounteous room for exploration!
Take a little bit of pleasure that the reference to monkeys masturbating resonated with the audience. Snort unabashedly at the notion that the wafting stank from the armpits of an American-flag-wrapped, pantless man climbing the Eiffel Tower could take down an airplane. (Might not have made Brad’s list…)
“The counterfeit innovator is wildly self-confident. The real one is scared to death. Therefore the more fear we feel about a specific enterprise, the more certain we can be that that enterprise is important to us and to the growth of our soul…The professional tackles the project that will make him stretch. He takes on the assignment that will bear him into unchartered waters, compel him to explore unconscious parts of himself. Is he scared? Hell, yes. He’s petrified….if you’re paralyzed with fear, it’s a good thing. It shows you what you have to do.”
–Steven Pressfield, The War of Art.
Dear America,
I have gone off my rocker. I am doing it. I signed up for an improv class.
This doesn’t make sense; it is frivolous beyond remedy; it certainly won’t pay; and I am going to freaking do it.
What has inspired me? Primarily Facebook stalking, but more specifically: 1) This gnawing in the pit of my gizzard that I am a stuck creative and I’ve been fighting that for a very long time. 2) Kraig Ward and my other Mindful Marketing Academy (MMA) friends and cohorts who co-jointly battle Monkey Mind one thought at a time. 3) Josh Pais, an actor / writer whom I ‘met’ through MMA who teaches solely on getting grounded in the present to tap into authentic creativity. 4) Anthony Bottoli,–fellow MMA’er–and following all of his creative pursuits via FB (yoga, drumming, DJ’ing, various theatrical things I don’t get yet–plus pictures of his very clearly connected friends and family). 5) Some cute guy I stalked through Anthony Bottoli’s page. 6) My friend Michele who lives on the other coast and let me tag along to an improv practice she had on a day I was visiting. 7) My amazingly funny and dry nephew Tim who inspires me by practicing the craft and supporting others to do the same in Eugene. He’s the one that made me think about this seriously.
I’ve been searching for some missing petals on my daisy–an absent part in my identity. How will I contribute, what do I enjoy doing? I have always flirted with creativity, enjoyed it, been drawn to people that make me laugh and feel good, smart and quick-witted people. I express it through writing mostly–it is safe here behind my screen. I figured writing a book would be the culmination, and I’ve even been heading that direction with this blog. But it’s shaping up to be bigger than that. I recognize that a lot of the qualities I want in my life aren’t currently extant, and getting them is going to require more audience participation than originally budgeted in the writing-only scheme. Largely passive income business successfully helping swarms of people, being an active part of a group of alive people, rocking life engagement, fluid creative ease.
Brainstorming elements of what charges me up, listing what sucks the life out of me, trying to get to how I want to live… I’ve been a strong #2, and I work well with a strong #1. That was a suitable arrangement when I was married. But going out on my own, I no longer have a #1 to follow, so the question is how do the pieces fit now? Don’t like waiting for someone to bring me flowers. Gotta go plant my own garden and feed its soul. And come to find out, there might be a way other than #1 and #2 thinking to approach this. That’s GREAT news to me personally because I want more than #2 ‘stuff’ and I don’t want #1 load.
Chargers uppers: dynamic groups of smart, fun people working together, self-growth, outside the box living, dwelling in the land of possibilities and potential, words, humor, creativity, problem solving, physical strength and confidence, interactivity with people I like, networking, project-oriented work, independence, autonomy, being liked, the world of conception and ideas, being forward-thinking, making sense out of complex systems and translating them for the masses.
Vortecies of suckage: not being liked, too much supervision (any, really), ridiculous rules meant to make crowd control more attainable, plodding / methodical tasks, situations where using my thinking doesn’t contribute or is stymied, being judged and misunderstood, people that think I should be tamed, when people just disappear or go dark on me. When I show up and it scares people.
I asked myself what I would like to move toward and have more of. Answer: break out of this feeling of stuck, find folks to hang around that are living fully and putting action behind their lives–funny people, be stretched in the area of creativity. And what better way to do all of that than improv? Don’t know where this will lead if anywhere, but this is something I NEED to do, and I am equal parts sincere anticipation and gut-splitting fear just thinking about it. I may have just peed my pants.
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