If you've been following my Instagram stories over the past few days, you know that I've shut down my website. I discovered that Wix, my website host, is on a boycott list for numerous reasons. A quick Google search will provide more details. Although many businesses we use are entangled in systems of apartheid, colonization, and oppression, I believe we have to start divesting somewhere. While we may not be able to divest all at once or dismantle these oppressive systems entirely, continuous divestment and boycotting in response to new information can lead to significant progress, especially if we do it together.
After a busy morning of packing orders, responding to emails and inquiries, answering messages, washing three loads of laundry, making two breakfasts before 9 a.m., vacuuming, playing with cars, gardening, cleaning up poop, bathing, tidying toys, going to the playground, getting groceries, and doing activity book exercises, the boy and his dad went to run an errand. I walked down the street to ship the orders and returned home. Everything was accomplished, the day flowed smoothly, everyone got what they needed, and there were no major meltdowns.
The website and my shop, the sole sources of income for my family and me, are now non-existent. In the larger scheme of things, we'll be okay. I will rebuild quickly, and I am confident that my community, friends, and family have our backs. Compared to what the Palestinian people are enduring, this is only a minor setback. I'm vocal about it because we can make a difference. We can send a message to the world by integrating support for Palestine into our daily lives in every way possible.
So even though I know all this, the day I shut down my website, I started to panic. A million questions and thoughts were rushing through my head. I didn't doubt my decision, but I did scoff at the reality of it all. It's not as if we have a lot of savings or that being without work for months or longer is financially feasible right now. Having made the decision and wrapped up everything that needed to be done that day, I decided to unwind, calm my mind, and enjoy my day after months of constantly crying into my phone. The genocide in Gaza makes it challenging to embrace joy, so I thought it would be a good idea to show myself some self-care by taking a micro-dose and chilling. Just chill, for once.
I used to be better at "chilling" before. I used to laze around, take walks, meditate regularly, stretch daily, savor my tea for hours, and linger in the shower longer than one minute. But as many mothers will tell you, all that becomes a luxury.
Now, I wake up and worry. What's for breakfast, lunch, dinner? Where are we headed today? How are our finances shaping up this month? Can I boost my sales somehow? How do I carve out time to create art without being consumed by sales? But if I make art, then I don't have time to write. There's this idea from months ago that's really waiting on me to bring it to life—it wants to breathe, it wants the light. But I'm not fully there for my son if I spend time doing that.
I also want to make cards and chocolates, bake a pie, hike, and take Aki to the playground. I want him to get social time and be embraced by the wild. I want him to read and write today, help around the house, and ensure each meal has no pesticides and chemicals and enough nutrients, vitamins, calcium, potassium, and sunshine. What's the news on Palestine, Congo, and Sudan? What about our climate? Are these Dole bananas safe to eat? Is everything labeled organic really organic? Of course not.
Amidst it all, how can I ensure a healthier future for Aki and generations to come? How can I both give and receive more? Did we laugh today? Did we connect with our bodies and breathe deeply? There's also that lingering text I must respond to, emails to send, and friends to reconnect with. Plans to make, people to meet—when and how? Did I even eat today?
Welcome to my mind. I chuckle right now; I know how both real and comical this sounds. Sometimes, I expect it all to be done in less than 24 hours.
I stretched out on the couch, realizing this was not a micro-dose. As I relaxed into the cushions, feeling every tension in my body melt away and taking the deepest breaths I'd ever taken, my jaw ached from smiling so much. That's when I heard the universe, the mushroom itself, telling me, "You really have zero chill."
By this point, I was laughing at every thought that popped into my head. I giggled, "Yep, you're definitely a preoccupied person." Then I started musing over the word "preoccupied," which only made me laugh harder. "You're occupied before you're even occupied! That's totally me!"
Then, I thought about the grim reality of a world that's constantly occupied.
Then, I started thinking about capitalism and how it occupies all of us in one way or another.
The truth is that capitalism bears responsibility for many of our issues—our insecurities, inequalities, genocides, and various forms of tyranny—a relentless assault on our hearts, minds, nature, and life itself.
I knew what the mushrooms were communicating. The whole world is occupied by unseen forces that drain the soul and spirit from our bodies. I'm reminded of Terrence McKenna, a fitting reference despite its cliché. He once talked about two kinds of consciousness: the spotlight and the floodlight. Spotlight consciousness, or conscious attention, is instilled in us from childhood as the most valuable form.
In contrast, floodlight consciousness is ever present, connecting us to every nerve, being, leaf, root, and heart. While our floodlight consciousness can sense everything at all times, oppressive forces distract us from this power. They emphasize spotlight consciousness, individualism, and ego culture to maintain control.
That day, I intended to relax on the couch, yet my mind buzzed with thoughts, eventually crafting this article in mental prose. I learned that my chill is the floodlight consciousness, attuned to all, eager to channel the world's soul through art and words. I want to create even when I relax; I'm always thinking, feeling, and digesting what the world is expressing. The mushrooms reminded me of our collective hallucination: that we're isolated egos instead of an ecosystem of relations.
And this, dear reader, is the most important thing to keep carrying with us wherever we go. The world will stop to burn if each one of us reclaims our attention and allows our floodlight consciousness to return.
With love,
Vanja
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Walking with you Wise Woman.
The floodlight consciousness! I love this. Recently had an unintended hero journey with the mushies which resulted in some very serious ego destruction that is so very well summarized by this! It was a lot and I am still processing but your vulnerability and beautiful way with words is inspiring me to share, too🦋.