sometimes, my brain has a weird mailman.

by elli on August 19, 2013

weirdo postman, that one.  there are spiders here.


This morning, during Journey (the activity, not the band, though Don’t Stop Believin’ is still truth set to catchy music), I got the distinct message that I should be looking at the desert.

Ugh.  Dub Tee Eff.

Let me just explain something, here:

I am a delicate forest flower.  I’m really only happy when I’m in trees, preferably near water, and even more preferably near mountains.  Give me all three and I could curl up and die happy.  I do not do Hot well.  I wilt, turn all red-faced and sweaty, get itchy and whiny and, ultimately, bitchy as all hell if it’s too hot.  Dry is even worse, since I don’t drink nearly enough on any given day.

Moreover, there are poisonous spiders and scorpions the size of small dogs in deserts.  I don’t like cactus.  I kill succulents by being in the same room with them.  Sand makes me twitch.  Half the time, the sun is a vile orb, intent on burning off my skin.

I was born to live in the northwest.

So why, then, are snakes whispering in my dreams that I should revisit that assumption?  Is it literal?  Symbolic desert, maybe?  Burning off old patterns or maybe taking some time in Sparseness to figure out what’s important?

Gah.  Self-awareness is hard work.

(Cactus has now shown up twice in two different paintings, btw.  Sadly, I think there may be a message here that the cosmic mailman is trying to deliver.)



p.s.  Thanks to tincans@tumblr for the image of his desert hike, which almost makes the desert not look like the hostile landscape that wants to kill all humans.


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