Starting 2019 in a less than messed up state, I has dreams I has hopes I does not has cheeseburger though. However, I do have plans for this year. I am blessed to still be the mommy of the worlds mostest beautiful smartest fantastic house Panther , her Majesty; Miranda who is all my whole life <3
And I have decided I am three things at once! I am an electric doodler adrift on the nodes of the inter webs. I am at the same time a re-imaginer of ingredients, disassembling and reassembling into packets of mouthwatering delight. And I am in the other half of the thirds a spiritual mindful other who enjoys placing her head in front of her feet on occasion while creating space to be whole in the timing of breath. Then sharing this with any who wish to join her.

Now I realize that I am defying physics by splitting myself into three separate parts while remaining one whole being. Nifty yes!
How one may ask do you go about this? Is a vivisectionist involved? Did you require the services of a rather ingenious shaman? Have you found the portal to another dimension?

Short answer YES to all three, long answer.. YES to all three but with juicy salacious details.

I woke up and discovered that somehow I had managed to grow rather abysmally old. The kind of old where one’s picture is located directly over a descriptor that begins with “back in the day”, yes that kind of old 🙂

However rather than panic and reach for a bottle of gin a time machine and a rubber band I decided to haul the old bones out of my sweat infused fragrant clump of bedding and set about attempting to make the remaining years of my life seem; at least to the casual observer to be more or less a planed thing; and not the deeply misguided tossed together salad of bits of randomness that it actually is.

And so began the great journey into the deepest reaches of my inner workings. A discovery was in order and I of course did what anyone who chooses to look within and undertake a reassessment of life and the inner self does, I asked Google how to proceed. Google obliged and after several fits and starts, my journey began, sans the Ayahuasca Iowaska of course largely because I am too poor to travel farther than the post office rather any aversion to drug induced states of awareness.

I gathered all the things, and laid out the intricate set of instructions provided by the most insightful educated and renown instructors Youtube could provide, then promptly ignored all their advice and set off on my own with a cuppa tea and a sandwich.
As soon as I stepped into myself I realized that I was in too deep, one foot in and I quickly became submerged in the mire of memory.

“Aha!” I said when I discovered a mountain of single socks the colloberative work of a lifetime between myself and an assortment of obliging washing machines. Eureka may well have escaped my lips when the thought processes which lead me into an array of exquisitely deranged relationships presented itself in the guise of a squirrel wearing an astronauts helmet plotting van diagrams depicting how the intersections between what I most needed in my life and what I actually pursued and acquired never actually manifested.

Egads was surely the utterance when all those very inappropriate hairstyles paraded before me to the dulcimer tones of Tiny Tim’s Tip Toe through the Tulips. Throughout this ill-conceived journey guides appeared to me, many of them also squirrels with the occasional disgruntled weasel throw in, I suspected a pattern was emerging, most of them were chattering incessantly about missed trains, the elastic bands in walmart underwear and loudly complaining about the soup in the cafeteria. However I was not to be deterred by their noise and politely declined to subscribe to their Youtube channel, even though some of the recipes looked promising.
No I remained true to the task of discovering my truth, in hopes that I would somehow see how I had managed to reach this well past midlife state of affairs and not actually become a “THING” as many of my contemporaries had managed to do.
In short, how had I managed to not grow up and still grow old, and what in the name of it all did I want to be if and when I did grow up?

That is when IT happened. After rounding a corner which housed all the croissants I had ever consumed, I plunged into a vat containing all the wine I had gleefully quaffed, under the guise of being “one who knows a thing or two about wine.” When I resurfaced and scrambled out of the vat, gasping for breath something interesting happened, the more I focused on reacquainting myself with breathing the calmer I became and then bits of me began to just separate and float about. At first I rather enjoyed the show, there a nose, here an ear it was quite sanguine then an ear attempted to attach itself to my foot which although amusing would make walking rather cumbersome and I suspected unacceptably noisy. It was time to pull myself together both physically and metaphorically, bemoaning my lack of tuck tape I mustered what could reasonably pass as gumption and set about reassembly.

Since I had no arms and my head was busy watching the show I realized the only thing still intact as it were was my mind. So gathering the misdirection skills of Doug Hening, the imagination of Leonardo DaVinci, the craftiness of Martha Stewart and the compassion of the Dali Lama about myself I began to focus on the best replacement of my assorted parts.

First things first, a head I decided should be located near the top of things, after all here I had to assume that some thought had gone into the general layout of the human form, also that positioning ensured I could both drive my car and not scare poodles on the beach.
Head fixed on torso accomplished I felt we were off to a good start and set about moving to the next bits. Arms, fingers, hands, feet, legs, all those parts needed reassembly, again I followed general conventions with regards to layout fingers on hands, hands on arms, arms on torso. I will not bore you with the mundane details suffice to say I managed to more or less resemble a female human form, however there were traces of me still floating about. I peered closer and saw that the head which remained in the ether was an exact replica of the one now attached to my torso, and I say MY because at this point I could not be sure what or who “Me” meant, and so it follows that ownership claims would be premature at this point, as would purchasing any life insurance.
Regardless of the lack of self, it was quite apparent now that that head and all the other ethereal bits remaining were more thought and those thoughts were stories.
And those stories were of A creative free thinker, A creative culinary explorer and A spiritual astronaut (another AHA moment, that explains the squirrel). Since they all appeared to be aspects of what I remembered to be “Me”, and since they were not actually IN what I had now decided to refer to as “Me”. I somewhat coherently then realized that this state of separation was more or less due to the fact that I had never invited them around for tea.

After all if one has not formally introduced oneself to oneself how are you to recognize the parts needed for final assembly, much I imagined like a game of “Where’s Waldo” wherein “Waldo” is in fact a three dimensional ultra pure shade of blue and simultaneously a small black cat hunting a mouse, hybrid. It makes sense that it would be quite impossible to find an anorexic, badly dressed Cat in the Hat fetishist in the obscenely overcrowded streets of Paris.

And so I greeted each aspect of myself, offered cups of tea to all, politely inquired of the ethereal bits if they would prefer creme and offered scones all-around; we settled in for a good old fashioned chat.

Eventually after all grievances were aired and many tears were shed, we agreed that we might accomplish something, which more or less resembled the actions of someone who had really sunk their teeth in and decided to try adulting. After arguments of what the secret handshake should be subsided we set about learning to move in unison, as ONE. Once our motions appeared more resemble the effortless gliding of a swan on the surface of a picturesque lake at sunset; and less like the gyrations seen on the floor of a 1970’s Czechoslovakian disco; we emerged into the sunlight, startled the cat and began to set about planning how we three now seen as one could accomplish being three distinct beings in our own rights, and still get into movies for single ticket fare.

We agreed we each needed our own room, and so the space within was divided into the sections which could house the agendas and desires of each aspect of the newly formed self unit. Since our income had not magically increased any during this transition from misguided self to one with a reasonably well drawn map, we had to work with what was available to us.

The floor of both the body and the house became the realm of the spiritual, Mula Bhanda and all that, and since Ganesha was already installed and being a true partier loved company this transition was a done deal before the ink was dry on the plans.
The kitchen of course would become the place for all things culinary again suitable since the logistics of fitting a stove into the bathroom was not only daunting there was some speculation as to the health risks involved in kneading dough while in the tub.
Which left the doodler, what parts of the floorspace was the doodler to lay claim to? Indeed?

The laptop sure, however this space was also used by the spiritual aspect, since research was food for the Chakras, and the Culinary self also required access. It was decided that all electronic devices remain shared space, dod this mean that the doodler was to be “rootless”?
Paint, that was the one place none of the other selves seemed to have any interest in, so it was decided that while there would be preference given to the doodler with regards to laptops and the like, the general mucking about in colours water glitter and glue would be hers and hers alone.

And so the transition from one to three to one again became a realization and the bits became the bites and now I am three.
And since Her Majesty is apparently in agreement, as this would reduce the spiritual travels and so lessen the startling aspects of sleeping beside what you assume to be Mommy only to be abruptly jostled by the sudden electric jolts experienced by returning to the body and so has deemed she will allow this new Mammy to remain in duty to her Majestic self in her realm.

Namaste

The laptop sure, however this space was also used by the spiritual aspect, since research was food for the Chakras, and the Culinary self also required access. It was decided that all electronic devices remain shared space, dod this mean that the doodler was to be “rootless”?
Paint, that was the one place none of the other selves seemed to have any interest in, so it was decided that while there would be preference given to the doodler with regards to laptops and the like, the general mucking about in colours water glitter and glue would be hers and hers alone.

And so the transition from one to three to one again became a realization and the bits became the bites and now I am three. And the Her Majesty is in agreement and will allow this in her realm.

Namaste