Op-Ed
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Op-Ed

They Know Not What They Say

I almost worked myself into a ball of stress yesterday.

School of Athens, Renaissance fresco by Raphael in Stanze di Raffaello, Vatican Museum, Italy.

After being invited to go skydiving with my co-worker that just turned 18, I bought my Groupon ticket without really looking any further than the price. It turns out the facility is in Lake Wales, Florida; an eight hour drive away. I noticed that as I lost control of the situation (in other words, when I realized I was locked in to a plan but I didn’t read the fine print), I started to go through my normal panic checklist. Its like there is this separate entity that feels like the world is completely unfair the moment something goes wrong. I’m not sure if I learned this or developed it (probably both), but it is the fuel source for my meltdowns. It usually isn’t the case that things that happen to me area all that unfair, but I did notice how it was almost impossible to take my mind to another place.

I sent a message over to her mother to ask what their travel plans looked like, and she was still sorting them out. “I get that it must be easy for them to just take off work…” Then I realized I was justifying why I had the right to be upset without even noticing that I was choosing to be upset. I was choosing to panic about not being able to tell my dad exactly which day I would be missing work. I was choosing to panic about how irresponsible that made me. I was choosing to panic, until I realized which moment I was in; I was not in the future. I was not needing to sort all of the logistics in that moment. For that moment, I could have chosen to be grateful I found out before agreeing to go on the roadtrip. It turns out my ticket doesn’t expire the same day as theirs, so I have several months to plan out a road trip if I need to. It still was not easy to alleviate the feeling of having made a bad decision. “God is guiding me”, I thought.

It turns out, this bit of reassurance has become enough. I realize I don’t know fully what God means. Somehow, though, God is always there when no one else is there. God is always observing. What I realized yesterday is that I simply don’t have the language to articulate what that means. I think it was intentional-to some degree-this process of eliminating ideas by getting rid of words. So we live in a world where nobody is speaking the same language. Words mean different things to different people. Its interesting to me that the usual pondering point is something like: “I wonder if everyone sees green the same way”… and few people seem to realizes that a big part of what we see is married to the language we speak. The words we have describe things that we notice.

I’m sure you know about the many different ways Eskimos (as they were, who fucking knows if that is something I’m allowed to say anymore) refer to snow.

Do you know how many of these types of snow we get here in the Sunshine State of Florida? To Floridians, snow is snow, and we don’t get any. Now we do have sandy white beaches that look like snow and we know the concept of snow, but there is hardly any need to use this word -much less- be able to identify all the types of snow based on relative fluff. Biologists label the world so that they can communicate with other biologists about their observations. In the military and in pretty much any profession, people learn and speak the jargon. In the restaurant industry, the term “eighty-six” is a verb, meaning “take off the menu; no longer available”. The story behind that phrase is so underwhelming.

The point I’m trying to make is: we don’t even have the vocabulary to describe the thought realm. Anyone that makes the attempt to do so, either sounds like they are insane and not very easy to relate with or they sound like a doctor trying to describe a triple bypass surgery procedure to a dog. Maybe its because we decided we needed to be on teams. Countries were our teams before globalization. Now our teams are left up for us to decide, so in the spirit of harmony, people change themselves to align with whichever group they pick. The hippies look like hippies, the MBAs wear ties and heels, the yoga community has been split into a traditional practice outfit of plain, organic clothing, and/or tight pants made specifically for practicing yoga poses. We try to make our appearance speak louder than our words.

I noticed myself doing this when I was trying to justify the connection I was building with God to others. I tried many “things” like sacred circles, Wiccan rituals, a Vision Quest… I was looking for my look. I was trying to figure out which vibe I wanted to send out so that the world could understand me. We take each other at face-value and don’t wish to dig into the spiritual or thought realms because we can’t together. There are simply no words to describe what is happening there. We would have to -first- build trust in our understanding of ourselves and of each other, thereby establishing a language we agree on. Only the words might not mean the same thing to us, even when agreed upon. The obvious way to fix this was to become walking memes, trying to convey an idea through identity.

Tarot is one of the languages we can speak. Today I pulled the King of Cups- lmao. If that isn’t God presenting himself in the greatest light, I don’t know what is.

The King of Cups sits in a thrown, draped in a golden cape with a cup and a torch, perhaps. His feets have scales and he seems to be floating in water. Their is a fish and a sailboat in the background. He looks unfazed by the predicament.

According to BiddyTarot,

https://www.biddytarot.com/tarot-card-meanings/minor-arcana/suit-of-cups/king-of-cups/

The elaborate description provides more explanation than my own understanding of the message being conveyed. I didn’t even notice the fish amulet because there were other parts of the picture I was looking at. So learning to look further into these symbols, whether they are tarot cards, animal totems, or runes, we have so much to learn and preserve for the sake of meaning itself.

Originally written in Collective Journaling in The Stoa

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