Welcome to my monkey bar.
Or, the monkey in my head.
Yes, I do have a monkey in my brain. She hangs from bars and wings from trees and uses her toes to peel fruit.
My monkey thinks it is spring. The trees are flowering and some are even getting their leaves. Crocuses and daffodils are in bloom. Peach trees have blossoms.
We have our Burpee catalogue on the table between our recliners. And we have some plans for the yard. Ooh lala!
Here, in Clover, SC, it is weird. At least odd for a midwestern transplant.
The monkey in my head sees the blossoms on the trees and high-tails it into spring mode … planting season.
And then monkey remembers that it is February.
My brain monkey is usually my friend. Cheetah. UUUU – AHHHHH.
My monkey in my head knows that she is a game. She has purpose and she can be silly and daring and ornery. And I won’t kick her out.
I allow her to stay and play because from what I have figured out, much of life is a head game. Even some realities are head games.
I need my monkey to balance the seriousness of life … the ups and downs and losses and changes that, if not monitored and tweaked, can take me to places I don’t want to go.
You know the places … Worry World, where most of the rides spin. Confusion Land, where conflict reigns. Seriousville, where perspective is sold out.
My monkey has learned that in order to survive this life, and do it in good humor, she has to intervene.
My monkey often wear black olives on her fingers. She wears flower wreathes on her head or her glasses upside down. Monkey makes goofy noises when kids are around or when adults get a bit too serious. My monkey makes the fat-lady sing to break up insufferable blowhards.
Think about it. If your head were a game, what would it be? I love electronic battleship because it makes boom noises, but that is not a mindset that I want.
Chutes and Ladders? No. Too simple. Risk? Maybe. Monopoly might work.
But right now, Monkey is telling me that I should pipe down and get on with life.
I always listen to Monkey.