Threads of Life
Just some thoughts from today.
I know nothing about anything, except where I’ve been.
If you aren’t paying me, the risk is all yours.
I got my period today. Every time it happens, I celebrate.
Texted my bestie, “Well apparently I was supposed to start my period today... AND I FUCKING DID!” and then I did a celebratory dance in the bathroom before I’d even bothered pulling up my pants.
I wasn’t taught about periods growing up. A house full of women—six of us!—and it wasn’t a topic of discussion. At least, not one I was invited in on. The same is true for so many real-world things. Puberty, boys, sex, children, marriage, relationships, friendships, higher education, careers. Instead, we talked in dream-language; a dialect that doesn’t make sense unless you grew up in a family fully submerged in it.
So, I got good at teaching myself things. If I wanted information, searching for it myself was the only way to get it.
I’ve been doing a lot of home projects lately—fixed my sprinkler system, planted some bamboo, moved some outdoor curtains and hung wire grates for my passionflower to grow on. Finally hung some cabinets on the wall so I can get my art space more organized in this tiny home.
Painted a side of the house white before summer arrives, and plotted the timing for re-grouting my shower tiling.
Spent a lot of time on a ladder the past few days, thinking how grateful I am I grew up the way I did. That I got to help build houses growing up. That I went hunting deer, and catching fish out of the local lakes. That I learned how to shoot all kinds of guns, butcher animals and pack meat into the freezer. I grew up driving big ass trucks, pulling trailers, stacking hay, driving tractors.
I grew up knowing how it feels to fall into bed exhausted from physical labor, and wake up the next day to do it all over again.
That I played rough sports with the boys in class, and learned they were all super-wimps until the testosterone kicked in.
My neighbor is an electrician and helped me move an electrical outlet the other day. His excitement to show me a new cut on his hand when he first showed up reminded me of a childhood friend.
I read an article about Medusa the other day that still has my jaw on the floor in recognition of the metaphors. I have a Medusa tattoo on my arm and it made me reminisce about the circumstances for why I got it in the first place.
It’s funny how the threads of life are inter-woven. The shit that seems most unimportant always has a purpose when enough time and reflection brings it to the surface.
Let’s just hope our memory doesn’t age out or we kick the bucket before those conditions come into existence. 🙏
What’s a seemingly random skill or memory from your past that suddenly makes perfect sense for where you are today? Let me know in the comments.