Well 2025…that escalated quickly.
And here I thought the exorcism I experienced in the Amazon would be the thing I had to deal with (more on that in a bit).
But wildfires, wrecking balls and oligarchs have made the start of this year particularly chaotic.
Oh, and yesterday’s termination of the educational grant I’ve been working on over the past year, i.e. the termination of my job.
Boop. Cherry on top.
Luckily, I’m writing this in Rome, and Italians love cherries. So, my Roman Valentine’s Day is not totally ruined.
Right, I’m distracted now. Where was I? Oh yes, the continuous chaos of 2025, exorcisms in the jungle and the existential quandary of turning 39.
Easy.
Here are my thoughts.
The Joys They Conceive
It had been 2 years since I talked to God in the Amazon, and I decided that for my 39th birthday I would call her up again. Same place, same time, same shaman.
Only this time it would not be the light-filled, love fest I experienced in my first ceremony. No, no. Mama Aya had another agenda for me. One that was marked by an 8-hour labor of darkness, confusion and unprocessed pain. An excruciating exorcism of the soul.
Sounds terrifying, right? Well, it would have been if I hadn’t surrendered to whatever was going to come up. And, honey, the demons came up. But instead of freaking out, I faced them head on. Kicking, screaming, crying. And finally, releasing.
My experience is beyond a blog post explanation.
However, post-ceremony, as I scoured Lima for a relic that in some way represented my experience, I came across the perfect Peruvian postcard. On the front, an illustration of a woman giving birth to some type of dark creature, entitled Las Goces que Ellas Conciben, The Joys they Conceive; on the back an excerpt from the novel Las Tres Mitades de Ino Moxo y Otras Brujos de la Amazonia, about the magic and mystery of the Amazon.
A poignant parting gift from the powers that be.
Needless to say, I had a lot to process when I crawled out of the jungle in November. I had just turned 39, and my mild existential crises had upgraded to a cat 5 metaphysical meltdown. Not so much about my age, but more about the meaning of (my) life. But, that’s nothing new for me. Since I can remember, I’ve been asking and agonizing over the bigger questions.
Alas. A seeker’s seeking is never ceasing.
But it certainly makes life more interesting.
Wildfires
And then 2025 came in real hot. So to speak.
First, of course, came the devastating LA fires. Then, the fires ignited after the inauguration. All of it scorching. All of it, wild.
My tactic was to escape to Italy to work abroad for a month. For the glory of anonymity and gelato. Italian lovers and limoncello. Venetian nights and pistachio everything. Vespa rides and Roman empires.
And, it mostly worked…
Until I was laid off on Valentine’s Day (poetic injustice). Something about educational grants to help recruit future teachers for American classrooms being a waste of federal spending. And, a radical American in Rome telling me he was glad I got fired because, quote, “teachers make children trans.”
Dear God. Was this what I was going back home to?
As I reluctantly got on the plane to Miami -defeated, demoralized and enraged – I was once again reeling over what was next.
“What do I do now? Do I go back to the classroom? In the middle of the school year? Not ideal. But your Ph.D.! You have to be a teaching professor. And publish! But, no one wants to be teachers. And, public universities are under attack. Yikes. Maybe I plan another international escape? But where? And how? Do I get an emotional support animal or a boyfriend? Both are a lot of work. Do I even want to work? Yes, Holly. You have a mortgage. Dang. And, you need purpose. And health insurance. Fine. And, didn’t you say you wanted a life partner? Yes. Well, you won’t find one at your pity party. Get up, get out, get motivated. But my home is so cozy. I’m nesting. I’m healing. I’m lonely. I have so much to accomplish. I’m overwhelmed, unmotivated. New projects. No energy. WHERE IS THE ENERGY? Trying to stay positive. Serve my community. Doom scrolling. Bumble. Bleh. Beach. Baby? Breathe. Connect. Cry. Smile. Grateful. SO GRATEFUL!
Like, am I the only one feeling all the feels right now? Is this the late-stage capitalism/extinction burst before the dawn of a higher consciousness for humanity? God, I hope so. But, for now, I’m just trying to get through the day.
39
So, here we are. The last year of my 30s. And, despite my previous internal rant, and the current state of the union (and the occasional panic that I won’t find the right partner in time to procreate with)… Life is good. And sometimes even GREAT (see photos below).
I’m on my own wild and wonderful journey, and as long as I keep the faith, give my love and enjoy the ride….I’ll be all good.
I claimed 2025 the year“to be magnetic”. So, here’s to attracting more magic and conceiving more joy.
…even it means facing fires and birthing a few demons.
Thinking Over 30 