It has been a week. I mean, it has been a month. Or so.
Actually, let’s be frank it has been a year. Or two.
No, I guess, it has been a life.
As the Buddhist note, it is all sucky, uh, I mean suffering. It shouldn't be shocking when things are hard. I have a very child-like part of me that is wide-eyed, gullible, and trusting. She jumps into things and as my friend Jess says, "She's a joiner!" Then the other part of me is world-weary and jaded. She sits in a darkened room by candlelight, smoking unfiltered cigarettes, drinking black coffee, listening to the Velvet Underground and talking about existentialism. She guffaws a lot and says, "I bet it is!" She is always urging me to just take a nap, then get a jobby job with the State already. I have have these two competing for attention. Let’s say they are two turtles.***
The naïve part constantly says, “Certainly, that’s it for the ‘hard stuff’ of this life. After this bout of cancer/babyloss/illness/husband surgery/busy season, everything is going to be smooth sailing.” I have two prints in my house that was hung by that Divine Fool aspect of me. One says, “EVERYTHING IS GOING TO BE OKAY” and the other one says, “Nothing but blue skies from here on out.”
The jaded part is waiting for the next thing. She sits like a gargoyle on the mantle and growls at people who move her shit. She hung a sign that says, “Don’t Fuck with Me. (Protect your Energy.)”
The two turtles are fighting inside me. One is jaded. The other is not. This is not an Ancient Panamanian proverb. It is a metaphor and the turtles will make sense in a bit.
I keep thinking things will slow down and then they don’t. The jaded part asks the enthusiastic child part, “Why are you overscheduling yourself?” And the Divine Fool says, “I can’t help it. All the things are important. I love all the things.”
Are they? Are all the things important?
The jaded part points out that taking care of me, and me first, is priority. "No one else is going to watch your ass, Toots. You better make sure you get a nap."
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My brother-in-law, sister-in-law and niece visited this weekend, and my niece says, “I love everything about your house. It is the most inviting and comfortable house I have ever been to.” And it made my decade. That is literally my only style aesthetic—warm, inviting, comfortable. All my furniture is thrifted. I have plants everywhere. Crystals on the surfaces that make sense. There is art on almost all the walls…art from my kids, art from me, art prints are treated with the same import as painting and retablos and metal and woodwork, which I love. It just fills me with JOY to see everything I love out and accessible.
And without thinking I said, “Yeah, I am a maximalist.”
More is more. I try to distill my thoughts, keep things nice and streamlined. I have tried to play minimalist. Mysterious and distant. Giving you only a little. But it is not me. That childlike enthusiastic part of me that wakes up at 4am with the first thought being, “YAY! It’s morning! Can I get up now?” When someone talks about something I love, I get bright-eyed and just start sharing all the things I know.
Less is more leaves me wanting. I keep adding things. I put it all out there. More than is needed. I painted the tree. Then started adding animals. More animals. With people visiting, I make more food than is needed. I create more art, more words, more research.
All that is to say that I am unraveling this part of me that thinks all the things are important.
I am a neurodivergent, thinky, introvert masking as an extrovert. I am a research monkey and an artist, creative and logical. But I have to start saying “No”. I have to stop contributing to my own suffering. I have to learn how to prioritize. And when I started saying this over the weekend, when my feet ached and all I wanted to do was hide away, the medicine started coming in big time.
I thought in October, we would be journeying with bat (what an October animal to journey with) or owl again. But no, sea turtle came through. Sea Goddamn Turtle.
A turtle of the sea for this landlocked mama. I mean, I love turtle. They are nice. They generally seem to mind their own beeswax. This is a quality I admire in humans and in animal species. I began journeying with turtle to prepare the guided journey for my membership group, researching turtle and finding the medicine was exactly what was needed right now. Firstly, it is coming in the watery West, in Autumn, and it lives primarily in water—we are going to be dealing with deep emotions. The secondly, it is about slowing down, going inward.
When I journeyed with turtle, she took me into a turquoise sea with the bright sun shining through the water, illuminating the parts of me that need attention. She showed me that she walks slow on land because she is a water being. When she walks slowly on land, she has to be very protective. She is easily targeted for attack. "That is why the hare was so much faster," sea turtle said, "I'm not a creature of the land."—the turtle is supposed to be in the water. She showed me she travels through time through millennia. She showed me how ancient they are, and how they can access the knowledge from the 40,000 years of mankind that existed before writing did.
As I was journeying, I fell asleep. I rarely do that. But it all caught up with me—the past week, month, year…I ended up waking up groggy with the icaros still going, and me singing them in my sleep. I tried to focus on my work and record the journey for my membership group. But an ocular migraine slowly developed, which forced me into a dark room, then two more naps. I fell asleep at 9p.
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