Medusa

Does Medusa hide in the faces of the people who like to offer up the tough questions?

Is she nestled into the new events that fill my google calendar?

Or, does she spring forth during my many google searches about what jobs allow you to travel and work with women and girls abroad?

I ask these questions about her location because these events are what turn me to stone. My mouth cannot say the things I need it to, my brain begins to operate on a repeating loop, and my feet stay planted in past movements.

I don’t know why she scares me. I don’t particularly have a problem with snakes, actually, she and I are more alike than we know. We both are products of our lives. The actions and fears of ourselves and others have shaped us. I too can strike with venomous words when provoked and if I had the power to turn men to stone I would most definitely utilize it.

I don’t quite recall the saga of Medusa but I believe Athena was the one who turned her into her widely known state of horror after she was caught having a rendezvous with Poseidon. This is an unfortunate situation and I am completely unsurprised that Poseidon suffered no consequences for his actions. It does take two to tango after all.

Isn’t this how it usually goes? You relent to some man gods' advances and then are doomed to have snakes intertwined with your hair for eternity all while he continues his unbothered baths in the ocean.

Luckily, my wrong decisions will not cause snakes to spring from my scalp but I do operate as if it were a possibility. I guess that’s why when Medusa finds me I do not fight to break away from her gaze but let her turn me into a human statue. This state of stone does not allow me to make bad decisions or good decisions. I am simply consumed by inaction.

When people ask me “can you make a living writing?” They have no idea that my insides are solidifying like quikrete and that my brain is seizing in the pattern I usually use when seeking answers that will satisfy both me and them.

My mouth does move in response but the words that come out equate to nothing.

“Umm. Ya know. Lots of people do it.” And “ Yeah, I’m not sure what I would even want to write about.”

What is this bullshit? I would much rather camouflage a small garter snake into my braided hair than attempt to pull words from a belly made of stone. I assume other people don’t like to hear it either, or, maybe they do.

There is nothing like encountering somebody perpetually lost to help you put confidence in the path you’ve selected. At least, you’ve chosen a path.

I wonder what would have happened if Medusa could have made peace with her little snake friends. Maybe, if she was less repulsed by the idea of it Athena would have chosen a different destiny for her. Maybe, that destiny would have included an equal slap on the wrist for Poseidon. I do think a head full of eels would have eliminated the possibility of him participating in any future antics.

The next time Medusa finds me I will remain a moving target. I will dance through the valleys of my mind and find the explanations I actually want to share. My stone form does not serve my future and I think Medusa knows that. At this point, she and I have spent lots of time together and I think she may have a little sympathy for me.

Medusa, the next time you see me locking up during a meeting or casual conversation, I ask you to give me the grace Athena never gave you and just let me keep moving.