Okefenokee II – XI

Making progress slowly, no painting yesterday due to swimming at eleven and then Chipper’s appointment and my lower back pain. Agh. But today I had counseling and an appointment with the shoulder surgeon, a cortisone injection (!) which went so well, that I painted some! I was so scared about it, but it went much better than the one I had in my wrist years ago, which caused me to nearly pass out. This was like, nothing! in comparison. Still standing!

Swimming the two laps still before my legs begin to cramp, and doing my lower back exercises, but it will take some weeks. Working also (working, eh, prolly the wrong word, but it is taking some effort) on meditation all day now. All my alters seem to be rebelling all over, to the exercises, to the focus on the breath. So much so that upon reading my most recent Yoga Journal issue, it was like, news to me. Where did my blissed out, well-practiced, yogi alter person go? I mean, really? Such a rebel I’ve become, or my alters have so taken over that she is wayyyy down there. Split. Come back! I’m reading the focus of the issue on Meditation Revolution and nodding my head over and over again about how it eases insomnia, check, anxiety, check, muscle tension, check, — physical pain — check! Ack! Come back already! Eat, Pray, Love! Remember me?


It will return, but all these younger alters have been getting used to expressing themselves, being UP. They can still be UP, but they need to SHARE. That’s all. So funny. I was thinking the obvious question that I expect from the Breathe Books Q & A session on August 5th, because I mention in the description of the thing, that I have more than twenty personalities — So, what’s it like — having more than 20 personalities? Well, I would ask, if I didn’t have them. I would!

Well, It’s kind of like being on an elevator with lots of floor choices but the door stays open. Heh. Kind of. Like you’re aware of all these level options all the time. They are staring you in the face. Twenty floors. More. And you live on the top floor, if you’re lucky. Or you find yourself in the middle sometimes and wonder how to get back up on top. You find yourself at level/age 5, and it’s all decked out in age five territory decoration. Like that. Does that make sense? I think that’s a good metaphor.

Another metaphor for memories is like landslides or shelves that kind of drop in on you fully formed like levels of earth frozen in time for archeologist to pore over. I always was fascinated with Egyptology. Kind of like that. Finding a whole cache of preserved stuff, perfectly laid out for you to study in detail, and it’s been there the whole time, in your mind, just waiting for you to find. Discovery! Except usually it’s horrible and gross and has all kinds of morbid feelings attached that you also have to cope with like snakes dripping from the bottom. Well, that’s the awful part. Other than that …

So, you get kind of used to landing on different floors in the middle of stuff, or landing on two floors at the same time and playing traffic cop. Or negotiating between different traffic cops from different time zones. It can get complicated. It takes a lot of practice, I have to stay caught up on healthy food, rest and exercise. When I get sick, all the rules go to hell. But I can enjoy the trippy since I grew up in the sixties so sometimes I can cope with that okay, and again I have lots of practice. Sometimes I can stay tuned for new memory details or use the sick time for healing practice, TLC time. It’s always TLC time, really. Always. TLC is the best alter of all. I guess. The other alters just got mad that I wrote that. Heh. How do I know? I wave of different voices just rushed at me from inside. That’s how. So. There is no best alter, they say. We are one. Whole. No one is better than any other.

‘Kay. Now you know.


About amyjacksoncc

I am a professional artist, writer and musician creating from my home studio. To view my artwork, visit http://www.amyjackson.cc
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