I’m feeling a bit … lathargic. Feeling almost like I’m being led about – and haven’t yet made the correct assessment of the situation. Haven’t looked thru everything – weighed every possibility – haven’t determined whether or not it is safe to go forward – or if I should just “dig in my heels” and stay back a bit until I’m ready to proceed.

I realized in Anthropology class the other day that I am indeed – that mule I have been fascinated and almost obsessed with for the past couple of days. I don’t know how it happened – but I’m likening myself to one of those old blues singers who sings about their acres of land and their nice Mule named Bessie. I identify with both the singer and the Mule. Which gives me a bit to worry about.

School is fascinating. I haven’t quite wrapped my head around my schedule yet, though I’m starting to understand the time restraints I have now that classes have resumed for me. I’m delighted for the … distraction (?) – and annoyed by the distraction at the same time. I tend to be a bit of an escape artist – content to lay in bed for long periods of time when I feel overwhelmed; peeking out of the covers only when things slow down.

I found out that Mules often dig in their heels, too. But when it comes time for them to perform – they carry men and women of all sizes and shapes – down winding cascading roads – so that they can sit at the bottom of canyons and delight in nature for a bit. Sure footed. Determined. Precise. Self Preserving. Able to leap higher than horses in a single STANDING bound. Half ass – half horse – and unable to multiply. Yup. The more I think about Mules – the more I love them. If there was a stuffed mule somewhere I’d buy it. If I could choose my spirit animal like Native Americans often do – mine would be the Mule – and people would later look back at my life and try to understand why my spirituality came from an animal formed by an imperfect union and as a result rendered sterile.

I’d tell them if I could that I find Mules absolutely beautiful and tragically misunderstood. Stubborn as a mule? Why stubborn and not – CAREFUL? I read something on line last night that said if a human leads the mule carefully and tries to convince the mule – the mule will eventually give in. If the human pulls and yanks the mule with out giving the mule time to really assess things for himself – then the mule resists. I can’t help but think of the billions of times people have tried to get me to do something that if I’m not ready to do them – I resist. I pull back. Kick hard and accurately. Yelp. Dig in my heels. But when I know it’s safe to proceed – I promise you… I will go down that canyon – carrying you safely with me. Just like Bessie. LOL. How is that for poetic?

Enough. Sometimes I think I speak in code – and that very few (if any one) really understands what the fuck I’m trying to say. I just have a lot on my mind these days – and I’m trying to figure out who I am. It’s like I’m being plugged in for long periods of time – and my batteries don’t have a chance of wearing down before – ZAP – they are energized again. I’m overly stimulated. And it’s not the kind of stimulation I’d prefer. I need an escape – a refuge for a bit. I need a bit of play – a hand to nuzzle and someone to pet my coat (lol!). I need a chance to absorb everything that has happened the past few days – commit it to memory – compartmentalize things so that later on I can pull it out and apply it towards something (hopefully something!) useful. I need to know that I – in all my half assed ways – can be understood and appreciated for all the things I have excelled in (beyond my “creator’s” expectations) and understood for all the ways I fall short of his expectations.

Is this what growing up means? It’s gonna be a long and complicated trip.