Kesariya BALAM: Snakes & Sunflowers
It’s the beginning of July.
COVID-19 is like a quiet brushfire and I am with my intrepid ensemble, recording a music video in the middle of a snakey, sunflower tangle.
For the few weeks before this shoot, Saif’s been saying stuff about leaving Impressions of Devotion management for another job. I’m pretending like he isn’t serious. I’m letting it go on like he is going to be the assistant here forever. But I’m awfully afraid of forever coming to an end.
Today he’s the impromptu video director. He found us this glorious, tangled mess of sunflowers and snakes.
It’s thorny and scary out here. We’d been searching for nice fields and parks, like the beautiful one Nida and Farah found (Hunter’s Family Farm in Atlanta), but Texas suffered from a serious heat burn. The grasses here are dried, scorched and ugly-fied. Only one little patch was spared… and Saifu discovered it! A pretty little blessing in the middle of Sugar Land.
As each person records their part separately, I pick a waiting spot by a particularly large and ominous snake hole. The self-proclaimed protector of this choral music group, I feel more noble keeping an eye on this big guy rather than some puny little one. I turn 180s in my yellow dress looking for more slitherers, whipping around like a floral Crocodile Dundee every time I hear a rustle in the grass. I am fierce, ready to take on poisonous animals with a “hiyah!” and a “pow pow!” until… Saif comes and tells me my dress is on backwards. Then, vanity takes over with a vengeance.
The ensemble stepping over snake holes!
I’m trying to stay attentive to the shoot and the snakes, but I’m going to be teaching a Hero’s Journey workshop to kids soon. So now I’m also randomly getting nervous about that.
I was so electric back when I was teaching the course in Austin.
I was spreading the Hero’s Journey gospel on Tuesdays and Thursdays and then hanging with long-bearded bushwhackers on the weekends. Sometimes, I would stay off trail until I found a good poisonous looking insect or snake who did not enjoy the up-close-and-personal experience. Then, I’d run for my life, excited to tell the world about this self-created problem!
My reach for the extraordinary fell flat after that. There was a divorce, a move, identity issues (here’s a piece I wrote for Desert Sun Magazine about it). Going through ordinary life was hard enough. There was no room for extraordinary dangers.
I don’t know what I’m going to teach to the class. What do I even have the right to talk about? Am I really even an adventurer anymore? Was I ever?
“Samira!”
Saif’s calling out for me. He’s annoyed because I’m very little help to him on this shoot. But I can’t seem to move. I’m just standing here, sweating under the beating sun.
I glance into the hole.
A brown snake looks up at me with its beady eyes.
I think it’s been here the whole time. Keeping an eye on me.
