MICHAEL HERMAN
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note on format... i've not recreated it here, but the current (local) version i'm keeping of this is sprinkled with "links," underscored words that would have been, could have been, linked in a blog but obviously won't be linked on paper.

amazingly, i'd read [LIstening with Heart] quickly when chris sent it last week. then i sort of forgot it into my core, carried it there for a while, and some days later this page popped out.

so on we go. amazingly. i had wondered if anything would ever pop out at all. glad i didn't read chris' post too carefully. grin. i wrote my title last, rewriting the original title "my expanding self" only after reading chris again. what fun!


Pea Soup and Small Change

My blogging demands that I listen... to myself and to others, to music, to markets, the ocean, no matter what thing, but listen to something. And listen for something.

My ordered little postings mask a raucous conversation. Who-I-dare-to-say-I-am chatters away with who-I-really-think-I-am, what-you-said-yesterday, and what-I-read-this-morning. Posting, expanding, connecting. Who-I-have-been, who-I-might-be, and who-I-want-to-be, popping up in conversation with what-you-do, who-you-be, and everything else in front of me. It's Pea Soup and Small Change, almost daily.

The tulips sitting on the table at breakfast, each dull bulb now exploded into one of these soft purple openings, pistils hanging like chandeliers, gently cupping two heaping tablespoons of sacred space, cathedrals. Opening and inviting.

"Wow, look at that. I should blog that. Should give that to my readers, my friends. Should share this one moment with just one other?" I'm giving more because blogging is easy.

"...but how would I do that? What would I say? How to capture? And when? ...I'm off to the store now, then to work, then to meet..." I make a mental note, or a written one. Sometimes it's just one key word or phrase, other times a page or more of scribbling. Stuffed into a pocket... for blogging, for sharing, for later.

When I do finally get to the computer, "Is it time to blog? Should I read or write? Listen or speak. How do I feel? Clear? Happy? Down? Cloudy? Can I share that? Can I show it? And what of that scrap of paper... is it worthy? Does it still move? Can I still share? Or is that memory gone and died, this scrap of paper a bit of the corpse I become regardless, date, item, post?" Sometimes yes, sometimes no.

Always now. "What is now? What is new? Where is life? Now and next?" It's a conversation with the future, too. A little personally pixelated pyramid of treasures stored away in heart and mind and /myblog, we modern pharoahs stocking away the things we'll need for the next life. Preparing for the world we're moving into, tomorrow.

I offer in the meeting today the clarity I worked out, the idea I stumble-clicked into, blogging and reading last night. I'm smarter than I would have been. And the conversation expands. Comment, comment, comment, trackback.

I never really have figured out trackback. I was heartened the other day when someblog I thought was somebody called trackback "important" or "invaluable" but added, "flawed as it is." I took this last bit as permission to ignore trackback altogether, forever. But I leave it turned on in my blog. You never know...

...who you'll meet. When I moved to London last year, I blogged it, of course. And then the strangest thing happened. Guys I knew, well, guys I sort of knew, you know, guys I'd traded emails with, occasionally, like once or twice... they emailed again: "Let's meet." Yes, I moved from Chicago to London and people I never met emailed me to ask me out for lunch, to talk about life, and work.

What would happen when who-I-say-I-am, who-I-think-I-am, what-is-happening-in-front-of-me, and what-might-happen-next, all sit down and have a coffee with who-they-says-he-is, who-she-thinks-she-is, how-he-feels, what-she-sees, and -wants and -does and -shares?

So far, it's always been an raucous conversation. Before, during and after the meeting. "My god, we really met. That's amazing. We spent four hours talking and covered a lot of ground. Might be a project, a night out, a contact, even a holiday to come out of it. Might be some income. Already a friend. Follow that lead. That would be cool. That would be fun. I have to blog our meeting, but what to say? Where's my voice? And his, or hers? Will we still meet, still match, still move, in pixels? What happened this afternoon anyway? No really. Dare I say? Do I even really know?"

Nobody can say but me, and you.... but which of me? ...and which of you? So many states and selves and situations, walking together, hand in hand. Like the little girl in the bright pink pants and big poofy coat, walking tiny little steps, but easily and confidently for sure, down the stone capped wall along the sidewalk on Kennington Park Road yesterday. Her father at her side. Close but not holding on. Big strong ideas walking close with the wee cute ones, taking care, and not holding on. Making a day, and a life. I have more support than I thought was possible.

Watching patterns unfold, I see them in many blogs at once. We are all in conversation with something bigger, something that is more than me, something that chats with financial markets worldwide, with giant tsunami waves, war reports and inner peace. I am in conversation with all of these things, and the blogs give me vantage, advantage. I am bigger than my blogs, I see. Mutual with the view they invite and support.

In that mutuality, that interdependence, that simultaneous arising of what is happening and what I can think and say and share of it, what body is doing and what mind is saying about it, something bigger than blogging is showing up. Compassion for my limits, the limits of words to capture and share life. Joy in the moments that I'm able to notice and say anything, and for the meetings and music that pops up because of the connections. A liberating sort of confidence that I am part of something bigger, this web that holds us all, automatically. Whether I post or not, read or not, comment or not, I can't deny it's there, supporting... date, title, post, date, title, post, date...

A raucous conversation, my insides and outsides clearly blurring. I navigate news feeds and neighborhood parks, global markets and personal moments, with friends, colleagues and clients, one spirit, irregular practice. We meet as old friends, for the first time, you and me, myself and I. Working on wisdom, playing in partnership. I'm learning to listen to my own [PeaSoup] and for whatever [SmallChange] we make and blog together.

UPDATE: PeaSoup and SmallChange have now merged... the new blog is [here] and the explanation of how SmallChangeNews fits into it is [here].


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Last edited February 26, 2006 1:41 pm CentralTimeUSA by MichaelHerman
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© 1998-2017 Michael Herman and www.michaelherman.com, unless signed by another author or organization. Please do not reprint or distribute for commercial purposes without permission and full attribution, including web address and this copyright notice. Permission has always been granted gladly to those who contact me and say something about themselves, their work, and their use of these materials. Thank you and good luck! - Michael