“My Mascot! Give your condition, community, or self a mascot. Who is it? What do they represent? What is their battle cry?”
My condition? Too many.
My community? Too global.
My self? ooooooooo…now there’s a dandy.
Oh, this self-professed chronic badass most assuredly has a mascot.
A mascot is defined as:
mas·cot (m s k t , -k t). n. A person, animal, or object believed to bring good luck, especially one kept as the symbol of an organization such as a sports team.
Also, not to be confused with a talisman. A talisman is defined as:
1. a stone or other small object, usually inscribed or carved, believed to protect the wearer from evil influences
2. anything thought to have magical or protective powers
The Phoenix, to me, represents my innate uniqueness. The ability to balance life and death. It’s beauty seconded only by the beauty of it’s ability to re-transform itself. Over. And over.
This chapter of my made-for-tv-movie kind of life is…just that. A chapter. It had a beginning…it possesses a dynamic fluidity of life itself within which I currently struggle, learn and redefine priority and value and worth…it will have a distinct end. After? After which course I will transcend the very definition of who I am right *now*…into something better. Even more unique. Even more remarkable.
And I will continue to repeat this course until my end of days.
The hounds of hell got nuthin’ on THIS burn, baby.
Talisman? Mumbo-jumbo-hoodoo-voodoo? Dude, if believing in purple painted ponies gives you strength to live a quality life as a decent human being…I’m all for it.
I have a talisman. Of COURSE I have a damn talisman. My nickname isn’t “VikingBrynn” for shits and giggles…that would just waste 2.2 seconds of what is otherwise valuable time!
Seriously, you didn’t see that one coming?!?! ;o
I took my sword to a place that holds significant value to me…a piece of land wherein I have felt things you’re only told about in stories around campfires. It changed me. It made me reprioritize everything I thought I knew about the Earth, her inhabitants and spirituality.
I took my sword to this place knowing that I may or may not have the strength to lift it. It’s heavy. Mo-fo heavy. I dressed in garb that made me feel like a warrior (purple painted ponies for you, warrior garb for me). It made me feel strong. It made me feel like I had the power to take on the world.
I took my sword to a place within this place and I raised that sum’bitch high into the air and I pointed straight at that blazing sun and said, “Bring it.”
I felt the Earth beneath my bare feet and I smelled summer itself on the tendrils of the breeze that caressed my dying body.
And for those few moments, time simply stopped. I did not feel pain. I did not think of anything but showing myself what it’s like to ready myself for battle.
Because battle is the only thing I know how to do. Whether for my children, my friends, my husband or myself…
I may win. I may not win. But the glory of the battle is what I can still taste from the memory of that day in my mind…and the Phoenix in me knows that not only can I do it…that I can damn well do it…remarkably…
Cuz I’m badass like that. 😉
This post was written as part of NHBPM – 30 health posts in 30 days: http://info.wegohealth.com/NHBPM