sometimes, my brain has a weird mailman.

by elli on August 19, 2013

weirdo postman, that one.  there are spiders here.

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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.)

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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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