The brown banana ascends

and keeps her cool

Hi there, and welcome. I record my own voiceovers, in case you decide you’d like the slower experience of listening to my voice while you read along. Or maybe you decide to listen after you read it on your own first. At the end, I always play a snippet of a song that speaks to me during the writing process that particular week. The song is linked at the end of every post. No matter how you decide to engage with the text, I sincerely hope you enjoy your experience.

xo - Jeannie

It was a rainy day transitioning into evening. I stood, inhaled, and exhaled in the middle of the kitchen after cleaning it up. I always hang there for a few sweet moments after all the dishes are done and put away and the counters are wiped down. What a simple yet profound satisfaction. I drifted over to the counter and reached for two pathetic, brown bananas. I gently picked them up and held them in my hands. I looked them in the stem and told them they are perfect just the way they are. I attempted to cheer them up with some good news.

“This life may be ending for you, but it’s only the beginning of the next one.”

“It is because you are this way that you are READY for your ascension.”

“Look! You even have a new team around you. They want to partner with you.”

“Meet your outfit: flour, sugar, baking soda, baking powder, salt, butter, and eggs.”

The bananas didn’t move or say anything. They were half dead after all, at the most just staring at the stand mixer and the oven, not really sure how all this is going to work.

I reassured them: “Oh, my dear, sweet bananas, just trust me on this. I got your back.”

They did their best to trust me while I completely wrecked everything they thought they knew about existence.

Ascended bananas, 1/16/2023

Fast forward to the baked banana bread, hot out of the oven.

“Now look at you, bananas. I bet you didn’t know you could become THIS.”

They cooled on the counter in their new form, savoring the moments of glory, I’m sure. Little did they know, that was only the beginning. They would be adorned with more golden butter. They would be enough to feed a family, becoming shared joy and nourishment, which ultimately pleases the baker, who will then live on to make MORE BANANA BREAD.

This is the way.

Thanks for going on the condensed version of that journey with me. It’s a true story. I took that picture on Monday. I have fun writing about the world the way I see it.

I am really grateful for this space that Substack provides for us. Recently, I landed on some confirmation about why I believe it’s going so well. I reopened Elizabeth Gilbert’s book Big Magic. It is one she wrote about the concept of creative living. It is for everyone, whether you consider yourself creative or not. I’ve learned ‘creative’ can be a loaded word for some people. Let’s keep it simple. We are all creative. Period. Liz’s book is both spiritual and quite scientifically practical. It is one of those game-changer books for me. There is one particular part I remembered, which is what prompted me to start reading it again.

(pg. 98) “Oh, and here’s another thing: You are not required to save the world with your creativity… Whenever anybody tells me they want to write a book in order to help other people, I always think, Oh, please don’t.

Please don’t try to help me.

I mean, it’s very kind of you to want to help people, but please don’t make it your sole creative motive, because we will feel the weight of your heavy intention, and it will put a strain upon our souls.

(pg. 101) Your own reasons to create are reason enough. Merely by pursuing what you love, you may inadvertently end up helping us plenty. (‘There is no love which does not become help,’ taught the theologian Paul Tillich.)…

Create whatever causes a revolution in your heart. The rest of it will take care of itself.”

-Big Magic, Elizabeth Gilbert

I really love that book, and I can’t recommend it enough.

The first time I read that part (about a year or so ago), it was an uncomfortable mirror for me. All these years that I’ve spent trying to “figure out what I want to do when I grow up,” I’ve applied this strange pressure to try to make sure it’s something that helps or serves others in the greatest capacity possible. That’s fine and a lovely intention, but now I realize I was putting the cart before the horse. Thank God I started drinking myself death, so I could hit bottom, get to the end of myself, and actually have an ounce of anything worthwhile to offer anybody. I couldn’t specify what that helpful thing might be, but I do know it most likely comes from the darkness I’ve experienced. Spotify notified me of a couple new songs by Matt Corby. I liked Reelin’ the best out of the two, but major props for the opening lyrics of Problems, on this note of finding the truth, or shift, etc. in the darkness:

You can take your complications
And shove it where the sun don't shine
To create something to benefit all humankind

Quick side step: I can’t leave the topic of Matt Corby without mentioning his best song of all time, Resolution. May your soul be rocked like it rocks mine every. single. time I listen to it. Ugh, it’s so good. It’s a slow build, one for blasting in the car or headphones. Full, surround sound. Go into it with an open mind. Let it take its time on you, and just see what happens. He goes all the way. Just like I told the bananas: trust me on this. I got your back.

Anyway, I think this Substack is going so well because I launched it from an inner place of personal enjoyment, not a mission to save the world. The very first post I published on October 23, 2022 went out to zero subscribers. I was processing a situation. I was trying to get to the bottom of how I was feeling and maybe learn a thing or two about myself and/or others in the process. I gave this platform a try to start a continuous, more official organization of my writing. I felt such a resolve about it after that first post that I went ahead and told some family and friends the following week. I started to link it on my Instagram page. Inevitably, a new dynamic was introduced by sharing it.

I am not only writing for me now. You are reading what I write too. As an empath, I usually have a sense of what others are feeling. Believe it or not, that even extends to the greater collective, but that’s a topic for another time. I have a tendency to overthink what you might be seeking in my writing, or what you might be getting out of it. Yeah of course, I’d love to know it’s helpful for someone, but not to the extent of needing your approval. I am grateful for Elizabeth Gilbert’s reminder to not sacrifice the essence of who I am, what I enjoy, and how I naturally write (or create anything for that matter) for any sort of external validation.

Hm. This feels like letting go of outcome. If the outcome is out of my hands anyway, I might as well create something I enjoy. I might as well go with something that seems to flow out of me no matter what, whether it’s baking banana bread, writing a newsletter, or knitting a blanket. Ha, wow. Well, there you go, case in point. Those three examples are things that I, first and foremost, had fun creating on my own. Then, I was so excited about them, that I couldn’t help but share.

Overflow.

Photo by Giorgio Trovato on Unsplash

Y’all. I’m going to say it. I tear up grinning so big as I type:

I want to start writing my first book.

I have known that I want to write a book for many years (or maybe multiple books, depending on how the divine plan plays out). I always assumed it was just one of those “astronaut” dreams (I do sincerely want to go to space one day, but I’ve never wanted to be a committed astronaut). I suppose I currently have another type of dream that’s similar. I used to dance I love to dance. I used to take dance classes, and my favorite style ended up being hip hop. I took classes until mid high school when I made the decision to step back from them to focus on volleyball. I picked back up with weekly hip hop for fun in college, and that was always a highlight of my week. Here’s the punch: To this day, I want to be a backup dancer for a big act. I am totally serious about this. I know, I know, I thought we were talking about my first book too. Now, I’m just capitalizing on the opportunity to throw the backup dancer thing out into the universe too. Kendrick?…. JT?… are you hearing this? …Beyoncé?… Ri Ri?, y’all got me?

The dream of writing a book has recently evolved out of the state of being a fantasy. It is now a real goal on paper. A plan of action is taking shape. I say this so officially, yet any of you fellow writers here might LOL at this next part: I don’t know if it will be fiction or nonfiction. Does it sound crazy that I know the spirit but not the body of what I want to write? It’s like somehow I have a sense of the energy it will transmit, but I don’t yet know the form it will take. Is that a thing? I welcome any feedback on this, by the way. I’m not necessarily saying “Let’s take a vote,” but the floor is open for any strong opinions to be considered. I haven’t really given you enough information. The best sample I’ve given you so far of my fiction writing is Fire breathing. Maybe that’s what I need to do- just play around some more with that and see what happens (I know, duh).

No matter what, I’d like to dial it in soon so I can get this thing going. My initial, automatic thought was to write nonfiction and tell my story- still creatively of course, but it would recount true events, much like I did in my most popular post to date, Less is more. The closer I’ve gotten to sitting down and actually outlining this book, I’ve become unexpectedly intrigued with the idea of putting the spirit of it in fiction form.

So, the extent of my book progress so far is:

1.) I’m pretty sure I have the title.

2.) I’m deciding between fiction and nonfiction.

Progress? Hell, Jeannie, you’ve gone backwards. I suppose a Substack called Seeing Upside Down is the best place to move backwards in order to make progress. I’m going to think of it as moonwalking into my first book.

Photo by History in HD on Unsplash

To balance out that backward moonwalk, I’m simultaneously twirling forward with my yoga training. I begin a 200-hour Registered Yoga Teacher (RYT) training next Saturday, January 28th. It will be Saturdays and Sundays, 9am to 5pm, over eight weekends, with some weekends off throughout the course of the training.

I suppose I never made any promises to you, nor did I sign any contract. Nonetheless, my MO has been to send out these weekly Substack offerings every Sunday. If there was ever a time when I might break this schedule, it would be while I’m working full time Monday through Friday and going to yoga training full time on the weekends. We’ll see. I plan on putting my stubbornness to good use and keeping it simple: writing is a priority for me. Period. I have a feeling it will be another one of those seasons in which I realize I’m capable of much more than I realize. I’m learning that if I keep a consistent meditation practice and exercise good time management, I can practically do anything, as long as I give it my undivided focus. That’s the current lesson with my guru: Concentration.

Oh, paradox moment!

I am accomplishing more and doing it more efficiently by not multitasking.

Well… I mean… that’s what I’m going to be doing, now that it was so graciously pointed out to me that I’m running around with my hair on fire when I try to multitask. I am practicing giving my full, undivided focus to the thing or person in front of me. For example, and for you fellow Substack writers: I will not give you a “like” (tap the little heart at the bottom of your post) until I have sat down undistracted as possible, to read it closely all the way through. I also do my best to leave comments as much as my capacity allows.

I’m practicing this with everything else too - texting people back, my job, a shower, my cats, Dominick’s ice hockey games, doing the dishes, busting out some spontaneous choreography to a song I’m listening to. It is all so much better when I’m fully present for it. Woah. It’s sinking in. I can essentially be in a relaxed, even meditative state in everything I do. Some might call it flow state, or being in the zone.

As all these things are clicking for me, I’m starting to feel like the brown bananas right after they have ascended into banana bread state. I’m cooling on the counter with a determination to keep my cool and not run around with my hair on fire.

I look around and whisper to myself:

Okay, well this is freaking cool.

with love, Jeannie