red and yellow me

half of me is red, and half of me is yellow. orange is my middle ground, but i rarely spend time in that middle mellow space. a woman who does reiki told me my creative side needs more love. immediately i imagined my yellow self, breathing and flowing on my mat, in the old montessori school in the old italian neighborhood in walking distance from my old building that holds my old condo with its old hardwood floors, still creaking and shining, circa 1924. old things bring out my yellow self. learning and practicing the old ways are how i polish my yellow self. each old skill learned is more yolky pigment rubbed into my skin. i know how to make coffee when the power goes out. i know how to sleep outside, drink water from the river, be unplugged for days. i know how to delete instagram for years and have no regrets. i know how to fill my brain and soul with nothing, so that i can create instead of consume.

i bought an air fryer last year, but i still know how to use my dutch oven. i buy my vegetables in plastic right now, but someday they will come from the dirt in my garden.

the red side of me is seduced easily by new things and the idea that "my life will be better when". a new home, new shoes, new leggings. red me reacts, doesn’t know how to slow down or savor the important, would burn the whole garden in a moment and hire a company to implant perfect two inch high green grass that i will never sit on to enjoy.

yellow me knows i would rather have raised beds, and time to tend them.

i am scared of red me. scared that she will take over and choose a future devoid of the important, and full of the urgent. scared that i will wake up one day, red, red, red, alarm bells finally ringing when i look in the mirror and realize this path didn’t have a heart after all.

note from the author: i have not been on instagram since 2019 (i think).