Goodnight from Munich.
I arrived in Munich today. Two short flights from Copenhagen with a one-hour layover in Amsterdam. Again, I find myself sitting on my hotel bed with my laptop propped up on a pillow and it’s 1:12 a.m. Instead of frustratingly chasing sleep, I decided to beckon sleep from its tomb in my mind by writing the words keeping the tomb closed. And that idea, that creativity is a weight that shuts access until it’s relieved, lingers on my chest and it makes me breath deeply. How many times have I ignored the nudge of my creative passion? How many times have I deprioritized and tried to erase it because it wasn’t convenient to my productivity or schedule?
And now I’m feeling the hunger again. This time, perhaps my hunger is coming from wanting to create, to word vomit what’s on my mind, and then fall into that drooling-worthy kind of sleep. Maybe that tomb where sleep awaits is in a crypt. And this crypt holds the relics and manifestos and philosophies that have been stored in wooden boxes and treasure chests, waiting for me to release them, share them, love them. It feels like such a sweet idea, that we all have these crypts that hold wisdom, new and old–modern and ancestral. Just waiting for us to unravel.
And this crypt holds the relics and manifestos and philosophies that have been stored in wooden boxes and treasure chests, waiting for me to release them, share them, love them
Tonight, I’m not playing a Christmas movie in the background, but instead softly playing Erykah Badu. Thinking about what truths in my crypt are trying to reveal themselves. My therapist taught me a technique where I put my hand on my heart and breathe, then think about what feeling or wisdom is speaking. I try to identify where in my body the feeling is and then give it a color, shape, taste, smell–anything that gives it a form. Let me do that, give me a moment: the feeling is in my throat and it’s a dark purple.
I put my hand on my throat now and I can feel my heart beating. While holding my throat and thinking about the dark purple, I start doing a “life scan” and think about all of the things in my life that are causing any significant feelings–work, clients, family, friends, health, planning for the future, the New Year, plans that need to be made, Christmas gifts I haven’t bought, etc. I’m looking for the thoughts that spark something in my throat, or in my core. Something that makes it jolt or brings tears to my eyes.
I’m looking for the thoughts that spark something in my throat, or in my core. Something that makes it jolt or brings tears to my eyes.
I’m anxious about the work that I do and being enough–competent enough, smart enough, fast enough. I’m back to work tomorrow, so I’ll be working from 4:30 p.m. until 2 a.m. while I’m still abroad. Traveling means spending more money than normal and that starts to make me feel ungrounded and excessive. The Christmas season as an adult means that you’re a part of the makers of magic and I have a long list of those tasks, which although bring me joy, are still labor and I’m feeling the weight of that coming in. I’m missing my dog Lily and I feel guilty that I travel so often and it may make her feel like I’m abandoning her. The new year is beginning and I’m thinking about what I want to set as my goals and that feels like I begin to critique myself and nitpick the things I want to evolve–my weight, income, singleness, habits, rituals, hobbies, relationships with loved ones, and health. Ok, yes, the last one is the gold in the treasure chest–I’ve been really mean to myself.
Why are we so mean to ourselves? Wanting to be skinnier is telling yourself that your body right now isn’t enough. Nitpicking at why you don’t make more money is subconsciously saying that you’re not smart enough or competent enough. I’m curating a life based on things and busy-ness outside of myself believing that it’ll make me happier, it’ll bring me worthiness. Because if I…lose the weight, get the man, make more money, become the tennis playing, ceramic making, salsa dancing, fashionable woman with another degree from a well-known institution–that’ll fix me, right? I’ll be worthy then, right?
Because if I…lose the weight, get the man, make more money, become the tennis playing, ceramic making, salsa dancing, fashionable woman with another degree from a well-known institution–that’ll fix me, right? I’ll be worthy then, right?
I’ve been sitting in this type of darkness for a while now, where I outsource my worthiness to other people’s perception and choosing of me. Chasing belonging is feeling much like chasing sleep when it’s 2:00 a.m. in Munich and my body has a flipped sleeping routine. I won’t take all the blame for this though, it’s what we’re taught–patriarchy, capitalism, racism, colonialism. Having to be a woman that is financially, aesthetically, and romantically successful in order to survive in the hellscape that we live in, it’s a tough battle. You have to be pretty and smart and make at least six-figures and watch your weight and build muscle but don’t look too manly and be nonchalant when you’re dating but also dote on them so they feel like a man and also be confident but not too much that it shrinks his ego and the list goes on. This reminds me of that Barbie movie speech about being a woman.
Chasing belonging is feeling much like chasing sleep when it’s 2:00 a.m. in Munich and my body has a flipped sleeping routine.
Maybe the way that I’m beckoning sleep here is also the way that I beckon what is meant for me in this new year. Not nitpicking but calling in from the internal. Let me try to flip it—this coming year, I want to:
Cultivate community, the real kind where you can call me to watch your dog for the weekend and I can call you if I get a flat tire. The kind of community that has regular gatherings and ceremonies. The kind of community that doesn’t see your needs as inconveniences. The kind of community that operates in mutual aid and removed of heavy transactional debts.
Feel connected to my body, knowing which food makes me feel good and what makes my intestines pinch. I want to feel my lungs fill with oxygen expansively more often and I want to know that I’m investing in living a long life with full capacities. And in that, I want to spice it up and not do the regular type of movements that make it feel like punishment–so try new sports or take a class in something that pushes me out of my comfort zone.
Experience wonder, the whimsical kind where I can feel like a kid again. Moments where it reminds me how special it is to be human, that people are unique and creative, that there’s a finite amount of times we get to see a sunset in our lifetime and each time the colors are just a little bit different, and that there’s a new level of love that I can feel each time I open myself to it.
Release of long-held beliefs about me and love: I am hard to love, if I say my needs out loud then they’ll stop liking me, I am weak if I am honest about my feelings, my partnership has to look a certain way to be successful, I need to know now if it’ll workout before I engage in any relationship, some people are built for romantic love while others like me are not, I am only worthy if a man chooses me, every guy is not the guy just because I started to like them, I am single because I am flawed.
Embody more of my higher self, the one that has spiritual practices centered on ancestral wisdom, decolonization, and emotional abundance. She’s passionate in her creativity and soft in her delivery. She’s a deep ocean that sometimes storms and the strength of the waves has the power to change the trajectory of entire fleets, while she’s also a tranquil ebb and flow that soothes you to sleep as you hear her waves reaching the shore. Her presence feels like a warmth to those around her, where hope feels accessible and joy is just a little heightened. She feels so very human while also being a portal to the heavens.
After writing all of that out, I can feel my heart beat at a slower rate and my breathing get a little deeper, a little longer. My throat no longer feels knots or a scrambling of wires and the color I envisioned turned into lavender. I feel like I’m floating a little bit. Just outside of my body, a light euphoria oozing from my pores.
And so, goodnight from Munich.
