Field Observations from Central Ohio
I. Would you look at the legs on this tiny dog? Boy, oh boy, she is LEGGY! Chihuahua mix with skyscrapers for legs. Best guess is she’s got some Italian Greyhound in her. Maybe some Shiba Inu. Name’s Moose. Gorgeous little thing. Long eyelashes to match the legs. She doesn’t waste those legs, either. I watch her zip around the house from my cozy vantage point (depressed on the couch). Unrelenting energy. The busiest of bees. Just like her mother. Both processing waves in their interior through motion. Both focused on insulating our new home from bad vibes in the ways they know how. Lots of doing things the ways we know how here. New ways of knowing how are slowly, but surely breaking through the soil.
II. The new place has a porch, now equipped with a bench. I sit out here and watch the fireflies sometimes. Last time I found myself in Ohio was 2007. Think it was June. I just finished eighth grade. I got some family out here, you see. Loads of cousins peppered throughout Youngstown. One cousin in particular was the superstar that summer. Boo. Second grader, I think. Rambunctious little thing. She loved the song “Don’t Cha” by The Pussycat Dolls. Danced around my aunt’s house to it. Her little wig and bandana. One night that summer we caught fireflies together. Boy, did she love those things. We snagged them and put ‘em in jars. She yelled when her brother shook them. I get it, man. I didn’t like him shaking them, either.
When I wasn’t with Boo, I checked my phone periodically. It buzzed incessantly with missed calls from my abuser. Right before this trip, he held me hostage in his house and threw objects at me. Punishment for refusing to cuddle after he coerced me into having sex with him. Upsetting day. I remember boarding the airplane. Instant relief surged through my body for the first time in years. Physical distance finally set me free a few weeks. My older cousin, early twenties I reckon, was the first person to tell me I didn’t have to answer his calls. In fact, she found him annoying. Told me flat out to ignore my phone and do something else. Couldn’t believe it. Safest I felt my whole life at that point.
Eventually the time had come to return home. Boo passed not long after.
III. Another thing pertaining to that Ohio trip back then. Night before my flight, mom and I noticed my guinea pig’s cage was infested with little flies. Dozens, maybe hundreds of ‘em. Scaling the wall the cage was pressed against. Buzzing in teeny tiny circles, taunting us with their critical mass. You see, Bonnie was a resigned guinea pig. Couldn’t be bothered by much of anything. Certainly not this legion of new roommates. I was horrified. There’s something about an army of small flies coincidentally paired with an acute mental health crisis. It fucks me up, man. Fucks me up. Mom disappeared the flies by the time I returned home. One less psychic terror.
I addressed a gnarly fly infestation in my cat’s litter box last week. Much like Bonnie, Gizmo simply can’t be bothered. I was horrified. Something about an army of small flies coincidentally paired with an acute mental health crisis. I laid out some apple cider vinegar traps. Began divvying up my finances in ways that made sense for loved ones before offing myself. Had a moment of clarity and decided against it. I disappeared the flies and went to bed, opting to stick around for the morning light. One less psychic terror.
IV. Laser-focused on what my honest-to-God offering is to my community. Enacting personal shifts in pursuit of harmony. No straight paths. Moving targets all over. New ways of knowing how are slowly, but surely breaking through the soil.
