Coraline meditates, levitating in an iridescent bubble, a Zen garden beneath her; on the left the Viking, red with anger, pushes the bubble with both hands; on the right another man, exhausted and dripping, has sat down on the floor — The Hammock and the Hummingbirds, practical guide Take back your space and your time
Hummingbird, the icon of the practical guides of The Hammock and the Hummingbirds

How do you decide without giving in to pressure?

Take back your space and your time

Even if you’re pushed to answer right away, you’re always the one who chooses: whether you answer or not, when, and how. Or whether you put it off.

The net closes in

It’s New Year’s Eve.

— One of them raises his voice.
— The other calls on you as a witness.
— You’re pushed to take sides. “Pick your side, or you’ll regret it.”
— And you? You’re stuck. You can’t leave, it would cause a scene. You can’t stay, you won’t last 20 minutes. So you keep quiet, you smile, and you wait for it to pass. Result: you vanish from your own evening.

Or else…

Comeback

— “I don’t decide under threat.”

After all, you’re the one who decides. Stand your ground, in your own place.

Extract from chapter 16 — The Chestnut-Stuffed Turkey

And if you don’t manage it first time? You need 2 minutes.

Shift your attention to your body

You don’t change other people. You change yourself.

Your body is on alert, and no words come out. Notice, and relax as you go.

You’ve stopped breathing — start again.
Your shoulders are up by your ears — let them drop.
You’re slumped in your chair, or perched on the edge — take your place back.

As long as your body is on alert, your head looks for the exit instead of deciding what to do in your own interest.

Come back into your body: four moves, and your head follows

  1. Put the whole soles of your feet on the floor. Or go for a walk. Incredibly effective.
  2. Steer your breath. Breathe a thin stream of air in and out, slowly. The longer, the better.
  3. Create your bubble around you. Take back your space.
  4. Speak up. You’ve got something to say, say it. Your sentence: “I’m not deciding tonight. I’ll do it later, with a clear head.” Take back your time.
    If you’re afraid of forgetting it, rehearse it in advance, so you can bring it out when you need it.

⚠ This isn’t about taking everything on the chin

Still less about staying for ever in a room where you’re being mistreated.
If you have to do it every 10 minutes all evening, the real answer isn’t the exercise: it’s the door.

What it changes

You stop swinging between exploding and disappearing. 2 minutes to step back, and choose what you do next: answer, keep quiet, or leave. You choose, not the atmosphere.

Remember

One good comeback is worth a thousand silences.
Take back your space and your time: that’s where you decide.

Practical guide 02 — Take back your space and your time
“My pen is my NO.”
The novel The Hammock and the Hummingbirds, by Karine Baridon.

Watch the hummingbirds

Watching the hummingbirds means changing your point of view.
Seeing things from every angle.
Accepting every part of ourselves. And of other people.
And laughing about it.

A hummingbird has every colour. So do we. Our shadows and our light.
You take one step to the side: green turns pink. Then gold.
Nothing has moved, except you.

What a practical guide is for

Trying out a tool.
Changing your point of view.
Laughing at something that weighed on you this morning.

What it isn’t

It isn’t therapy.
It isn’t a diagnosis.
It isn’t a courtroom: nobody’s looking for a culprit.
It isn’t a rulebook for good behaviour. You do what you like.

What it’s for

Accepting that we’re human. And fallible.
Our shadows. Our light.
Taking the drama out, to melt the resistance.
Not judging ourselves. Not judging others.
Laughing about it. It works better, and it’s more fun.

Nobody gets judged here. Least of all you.
We don’t know anything you don’t. We just wrote some tools.

Where these guides come from

Nobody made them up. They came out of a novel, chapter by chapter — in the order I learnt them. Not in logical order: in the order life threw them at me.

What you get, end to end:
Not getting stuck in the middle.
Not having to prove your worth.
Understanding the other person without carrying what’s theirs.
Spotting what keeps repeating.
Setting the limit, and holding it.
Naming the manoeuvre, which is enough to defuse it.
Getting out when the judges are also the accusers.
Listening to the body, which answers before we do.
Sorting out what we keep.
And finally: choosing where we’re heading.

I only saw the logic afterwards, reading it back. That’s why it holds: nobody drew it up in advance.

If something feels too big for you, see a professional. A guide is a tool, not a doctor.