I'm a Two-Headed Beast

I am in the difficult head place and I must examine this again. I don't want to shy away from the healing powers of writing especially when I need it the most. It is painful switching over and adjusting to my receive head. I told myself if you are in receive mode then receive! Read, listen, watch; nourish your other house. I'm beginning to suspect it's been a family secret that a few of us have the two heads and we hate it and try to make the other head go away. For me the attempt to eliminate one of the heads caused a lot of damage and seemed wrong, so I am determined to take up the challenge and explore both.

For one thing, I do all of my painting in the often-painful noisy receive head. It's as if a door opens at those times and I descend into the dungeon, to the dark dank room with the prowling tigers, and I walk in and paint with my brush-sword. I adjust over the weeks and then it seems less painful and more normal and I get my most difficult work done. I can't seem to find that door in the transmit head because at those times I am gushing physical energy, and the sensory stimuli are loud and joyous and distracting. The obvious choice is to love the transmit energy and hate the receive, but God didn't ask me which I like better, inviting me to choose so we could kill off the other head. He created me with two heads, and I am determined to explore and know the nuances well, to appreciate the gifts of both. No war; my inner Hatfields and McCoys must share.

My husband says I am still me. It's as if I'm an island. The weather may change but I am still the island. But weeks of hurricanes and then weeks of sunshine is still a profound contrast and challenge to this little island. The island is strong, though, and built for contrasting weather.

I'm going to illuminate as much as I can, like an archaeologist digging in a cave with a hand-held lantern, prowling in my own psyche. There are cave paintings and treasures and scary dark corners but I'm not turning back.