Go With the Flow

I got a tarot reading in Guatemala, which I think is kind of a cliche thing to do when traveling. It was in San Marcos with this guy that had one of his eyes tattooed black. He reminded me of an old friend from university who was always traveling, had too many tattoos, and a pleasant energy that always felt somewhat unreal.

Go with the flow. For my headspace the strength card came up “you’re too controlling, too heavy in the mind.” I just got back from vacation and my landlord patched up a door in my apartment, except he changed the color of the wall in the process and didn’t tell me. The shade is off by just the tiniest bit and I felt the difference a few minutes after standing in the space. It was the slight shift in color between the moulding and the walls that revealed the change. The whole thing irked me and I called him to vent. He was nice and soothed me. I feel stupid now.

No one would really notice if they were in my room. But I notice. The soft brown-ish gray has been replaced by something that feels a bit more sterile. I’m so annoyed by this change. It was thrust upon me, something I didn’t have a choice in. I did the same thing to him a couple years ago though, when I painted the walls and ceiling of my living room blue. I guess so much of life is people harmlessly colliding into each other during their journeys.

I don’t know if I’m going to change the wall color. I might do it on my own, mostly because I hate bothering people. I always feel like it’s easier to take care of things on my own. I’m thinking about another one of my readers parroting back to me the traits of being a fire sign. “Psychopathic independence. You can ask for help you know.” And then a swift kick in the pants: “Aries are marked by immense abandonment trauma. Their independence is a defense mechanism.”

I might keep the color discrepancy in my room. I was glancing through previous journal entries and came upon a similar note I scribbled down during a tarot reading: “your mind is too overactive, it’s draining you.” Maybe the sliver of imperfection in my room could be a way to remind myself to go with the flow, the memory of San Marcos embedded in my walls.