First of all, I’m a delight.
Second, you are made of stardust.
Third, sometimes things are what they are.
“There is a cure for all evil between the two mill-wheels of Ballylee.” — Credited to Biddy Early by W.B. Yeats, The Celtic Twilight
The weather today is giving me a lot of nostalgia sprinkled with introspective thoughts. Also, my usual time for writing and working with folks happens long before the Sun peeks over the trees in my back yard, which wasn’t on the “things for Kim to do today” list from the Universe after having my morning cup of coffee.
When moments like these happen, it feels like that song from the Beatles where the lyrics talk about fixing the hole where the rain gets in, to stop his mind from wondering (where it will go….). Well, more honestly, it feels like a moment of transition that needs to be honored. The dissonance that happens with experiences like this comes from the siren song of the Greek chorus – that often starts off with the words, “You should be…”
Before I get a good ramble going, let me introduce what’s on my topic list for today. And if you are good at seeing how my words work, you might get a small giggle at what I’m about to disclose.
Transition.
Yep, that’s today’s prompt, and I had it all outlined on how important it is to remember that when life shifts one way, when you really hoped it was going to move in the direction you wanted, it’s that space of uncertainty that lets us know an answer is right around the corner.
Then my plan was to talk about how midwives deal with this all the time. Same with herbalists. And, according to the photo above, so does my back porch. You see, at the transition of the stairs to the porch, there is a guard named Gia. Sadly, she has passed into her next life, but we all feel her paw pat our legs as we pass through the gateway. Her “toll,” so to speak, was a pat upon the head, saying, “What a good kitty,” then waiting for her paw to tap you into her space.
Further back in the photo you can see Sparta, who has also passed into another life. This dear sweet boy was once internet famous for being the “I lick the butter” cat. Sometimes his photo will pop up in memes, or on a cat page, which delights my whole family. Before I get lost in cat talk, Sparta’s job was to make sure that whoever Gia let onto the porch was worthy of going into the door. He was very good at his job, and a few humans have exclaimed, “Your cat gave me a disapproving look.”
Now, as you can tell, my words are wandering into places not exactly like transition, but maybe I’m just setting the scene; getting the tone of the next ramble into something pleasing for all y’all. You won’t know until to read on.
One of the parts of my life that had to change in the quiet times was what I call the dance of the finger pointer. Now there are days where my little digits wanna waggle all over the place in a way that says, “But see…how can those people do what they do and…” This isn’t because of jealousy, or judgmental pondering, but that there is this absolutely HUGE push to not honor the lessons in the sticky parts of life. Maybe that’s not exactly the best way to describe it, because there’s more to it.
It’s like the old saying from Paracelsus about how the dose makes the poison, often said as the poison is sometimes the medicine. An example of this would be digitalis being used in medication to help with heart issues. Something a well trained herbalist would know, especially how that plant could transition someone from getting help to needing a pine box.
But see, here I am again…rambling and going into place that my brain loves to discuss instead of getting to the point of my prompt. Could it be that I’m trying to create a response in you, the reader, that mimics the feeling of someone who is right in the middle of trying to figure it out? Or that moment when a scratch is healing, and the scab becomes so itchy that it feels like your whole body will vibrate into another dimension? Or, could it be what happens on the day you finally feel better from a week long cold, but then sneeze three times in a row?
Discomfort is not always failure. Now I’m not saying that as something like, “pain is fear leaving the body,” because just turn that noise off right now. That stuff makes my eyes twitch. Also, I’m not going to move into platitudes about how seeds need chaos to germinate, or how butterflies are pretty much caterpillar “soup” before emerging. All really great examples, of course, but this is about the moment where you don’t know what comes next.
All these years of helping others didn’t prepare me for my own shifting moments. When things got a little wonky, when I didn’t have good boundaries, and when pushing through didn’t seem like an option, all I wanted to do was just give up. Well, I mean I did that, too, but also that wasn’t exactly my best work. Plus, you know that whole trope of physician heal thyself and all (side note: this is absolutely not something to say when a person is walking through health issues – just a little FYI for you there). The ongoing walk of feeling stuck in a place that wasn’t changing felt worse than whatever I was waiting on to happen. Much like you might be feeling here, wishing that I would get to the point (if even you’ve made it this far), I held on for just a little bit longer to see what would happen.
Well, it’s kind of like this beautiful piece of artwork in the early stages of healing. You’ll see the next phase in a moment, but if you’ve ever had a tattoo you know that it’s not always the process that is the hardest, but waiting for it to heal. Oh, then the itching – dear gods, the itching. Honestly, that’s the hardest part of getting a tattoo – but I digress. (extra side note: those dashes are mine, and I’m tired of trying to hid my love of them so that folks don’t think my writing is AI – like com on)
When it was obvious that I needed to sit with discomfort until it ended, it was the best (and hardest) decision for me. Every time something rubbed me the wrong, or I felt insecure and second-guessed myself, it just got me closer to the finish line. No self-help guru, no content creation care, just me, myself, and the hope of things finally making a transition.
Which, by the way, is what midwives, herbalists, and folks that sit on porches know…sometimes it takes as long as it takes. And, often, the real lesson is in the spaces in between.
Yep, that’s a hand holding lily of the valley – this is a tattoo I got in 2024 that reminds me that sometimes the dose is the poison, the poison is the medicine, and the transition is the teacher.
Also, it’s podcast day, if’n’y’all wanna take a listen.
Until next time, much love to all y’all,
~ KEU
Kim Upton 