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Rowan Mangan

Author. Explorer. #Looking for America.

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Tricked

20 July 2018 22 Comments

I was given a new piece of America last night. By a coyote.

Marty and I were coming home from our evening walk when we spotted the bouncy gait of the coyote in the pasture. Just a few shades off the tone of the gold-brown summer grass, he swept across the plain as if he owned the place. Which, of course, he totally does.

This is a drawing of a coyote.

When he reached the road not far ahead of us, the coyote stopped dead and turned to stare at us. We stopped too, and for maybe 30 seconds we all observed each other in silence before he upped and continued on his way.

As he disappeared up the ridge, we looked at each other and started laughing like fools. It couldn’t have been clearer if Loki himself had just booby-trapped our school lockers. Trickster energy!

So much about our recent life circumstances started to make sense when I looked into that clever, scraggly little face. Disparate pieces came together in that special way they do only when you have an unusually kooky belief system. You know, like I do.  

Every tradition on earth has a trickster figure loitering somewhere in its mythology, probably leaning up against a wall with a cigarette with one hand and a stolen chicken in the other.

Because I’m looking for America, I need my magical messengers to be very specific, and in Native American cultures, the numero uno trickster is Coyote. The stories about him showcase a cunning and mischievous dude who wreaks havoc wherever he goes.

Now, I wouldn’t have been quite so blown away by my own Coyote encounter if things hadn’t been quite so strange around here lately.

If my recent life were a Coyote story, it might go something like this.

…Then Coyote came to a settlement of white people, where everyone had a firm plan for the next stage of their lives. Pleased at the prospect of causing some delicious chaos, Coyote announced that he knew how to make all their plans work. They just had to give him a sack of meat and an indefinite amount of time.

The naive white people gratefully handed over everything Coyote wanted, certain that all their dreams were about to come true. Coyote laughed uproariously as he ran off over the hills with his meat sack slung over his shoulder, vowing never to return a single one of the white people’s calls.

I’m not going to go into the prosaic details of the past couple of weeks, but as you can imagine, uprooting your life and planting it down on the other side of the country involves a complex set of moving parts. Many of them interdependent. Many of them time-sensitive. And, unfortunately, a great many of them are reliant on other people following through on promises they’ve made. Ah, there’s the rub, right?

An artist’s rendering of our plans.

My naive white family and I mistook our hopes for reality, and friends, we got trickstered up one side and down the other. Trickster energy’s no joke: it will harsh your mellow but good. Yet as with so many scary or infuriating aspects of life, this mayhem becomes far less menacing the moment you see its wolfy little face and recognize it for what it is.

How can you tell you’re being beset by tricksterism? This is what I believe. When things start getting really crazy around you, like this-is-so-bad-it’s-weird crazy, like WTF-24/7 crazy… that’s some trickster energy getting all up in your life.

THIS IS A GOOD THING. And I’m going to tell you for why.

Tricksters are disruptors. They spurn convention, cross boundaries, and generally create disarray. But there’s more to it than that. In myth, tricksters have a habit of sauntering into a group of people and, as Paul Mattick has it, “shaking things up so that they can be reconfigured in a different shape.”

A different shape.

When I saw my Coyote and understood why he’s been showing up in my life, what I realized is just how much I’ve needed him.

Tricksters at work.

My family is about to move into a whole new life, and all our established structures need to be shaken up. More: they need to be shattered. We can’t create a new form for ourselves — in our routines, conventions, unquestioned ways of living with each other — without letting the current pieces shift around. That’s how we’ll re-form to fit our new life. The Coyote force wreaking havoc with our plans is helping us do that.

But fundamentally, it’s my own self that is in most need of some shattering and re-forming. I’m like a set of tiles destined to be a mosaic. And chaos is the artist. So smash me up, Coyote. Mess up all the colors and help new aspects of me to be born.

We can get so creaky, you guys. All the structures of self we build around ourselves can grow hard and brittle. And as any engineer of bridges or high rise buildings will tell you, what doesn’t bend is bound to break.

When Coyote comes into our lives, he shows us that we can’t rely on those things we thought we could rely on — people’s behavior, what’s knowable or predictable, where the edges of our reality really lie.

And you know what? When we can no longer take that shit for granted, it’s time to open our damn eyes. It’s time to say, okay, Coyote: break me open, shake me up. Let me become a swirling, colorful new creature born of today — not five years ago, not thirty years ago. Today.

It’s worth breaking for. It’s so worth it.

This is a drawing of a coyote.

Tonight, on my walk, I looked up at the craggy line of the ridge far above me, and there he was: silhouetted against the sunset, gazing down at me. I smiled and waved; I couldn’t help it. Coyote was too far away for me to see his face, but I promise you, he winked, took a drag of his cigarette and drawled, “You’re welcome, Boo.”

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Filed Under: Loving Inventures, Parenting inventures Tagged With: coyote, mythology, native american mythology, plans, shattering, trickster

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Comments

  1. Sean Mangan says

    20 July 2018 at 7:36 am

    Splendid stuff, my dear whippersnapper. Seldom have I seen such an elegant silk purse made out of no more than a coyote’s ear. xxxxx

    Reply
    • rowan says

      21 July 2018 at 3:35 am

      Shucks, Paw. That means so much xoxoxoxo

      Reply
  2. Carol says

    20 July 2018 at 8:45 am

    I love this post Rowan, as part trickster myself I’m just realising how powerful that magic is, we are the edge makers, and then when others reach that edge we’ve made another one. Have you read the book ‘Trickster makes this world?’ Xoxo

    Reply
    • rowan says

      21 July 2018 at 3:35 am

      I see you, Trickster! Love that book! x

      Reply
  3. Paula M Keogh says

    20 July 2018 at 8:57 am

    Brilliant piece of writing. Trickster energy sparking through it. I particularly loved the ending, Boo!

    Reply
    • rowan says

      23 July 2018 at 8:44 pm

      You’re the best! 🙂 🙂 🙂

      Reply
    • rowan says

      23 July 2018 at 10:38 pm

      You’re the best! 🙂 xoxxo

      Reply
  4. Christina Lawler says

    20 July 2018 at 10:02 am

    I wish that an ex friend of mine knew about the trickster, and didn’t chalk up the demise of our relationship so simply as a story about my personal character. Especially as it is plain to see now that everything was working as it should have been.
    I told a story myself about that relationship. What it meant. One likes to think the ground they walk on is solid, but in reality it’s a lot more like cloud hopping, where some of the clouds just randomly change shape and let you slide right through. The thing is when you fall you’ll eventually land more safely, and get better at cloud choosing.
    Anyway I love your perspective and your post.

    Brilliant

    -C

    Reply
    • rowan says

      21 July 2018 at 3:37 am

      I hear you. Thanks, Christina.

      Reply
  5. Sonya Versluys says

    20 July 2018 at 4:55 pm

    Great post! Love this! From a fellow “disruptee”–smash me up, coyote!

    ~Sonya

    Reply
    • rowan says

      21 July 2018 at 3:38 am

      Thanks, my cobber! May we all get smashed to hell and rise up smiling. x

      Reply
  6. Irene Keogh says

    20 July 2018 at 5:53 pm

    Nothing changed but everything changed. How you think about something determines your reality. May we all find that trickster when we need her.

    Reply
    • rowan says

      21 July 2018 at 3:39 am

      Absolutely! So well put! xo

      Reply
  7. River LaMoreaux says

    20 July 2018 at 9:00 pm

    Wonderful, as always! I feel that the US is going through a similar shake-up meltdown WTF re-forming right now. So it ties in with your search for America too. Well done!!!

    Reply
    • rowan says

      21 July 2018 at 3:39 am

      Ooh, great point! Thank you, River. Always appreciate your feedback xoxo

      Reply
      • River LaMoreaux says

        23 July 2018 at 1:57 am

        Your picture captions crack me up btw.

        Reply
  8. Barbara hiller says

    20 July 2018 at 11:31 pm

    Just love love this faboulous new blog

    Reply
    • rowan says

      22 July 2018 at 4:51 am

      Thanks so much, Barb! 🙂

      Reply
  9. Trish Hammond says

    22 July 2018 at 8:07 pm

    Love it.

    Reply
  10. Wendy Wyatt says

    23 July 2018 at 4:25 pm

    Love the Trickster energy… Have you read the book; Daily Coyote by Shreve Stockton? A wonderful trickster tale about a woman who moves from NY to San Francisco but determines she prefers NY and moves back deciding to ride her Vespa on the back roads of America to get there… along the way she is enchanted with Wyoming and once back in NY, decides she’s going to move there… and then she meets Charlie, her coyote companion… a magical story! You can also find her on Instagram.

    Reply
  11. Cami Pack says

    26 July 2018 at 2:13 am

    Omg, so beautiful! When you said you realized you needed him, something in me shifted, grew light. When you said, “I’m like a set of tiles destined to be a mosaic,” it made me gasp. Love, love, love this. Thank you.

    Reply
    • rowan says

      26 July 2018 at 7:30 pm

      Thank you so much, Cami! I really appreciate this.

      Reply

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Today’s Lesson From Little (which I’m applying Today’s Lesson From Little (which I’m applying to everything from professional tribulations to health).

Take the materials that are used to constrain you, and make them wings.

Also—any chance you get—sit in a puddle.*

*This one applies more neatly to my professional life than you might imagine.
Here’s your Fiction Friday GOAT QUOTE! This is f Here’s your Fiction Friday GOAT QUOTE! This is from my yet-to-be-published novel, Goat Street. ✨📖✨
Let’s throw it back! This is my weekly revisitin Let’s throw it back! This is my weekly revisiting of the writing of my first draft of Goat Street seven years ago. I took myself (and my mum!) on an intensive writing retreat and finished the draft in 30 days. (The rewrites took *just* a little longer.)⁠
⁠
Every night after finishing writing, I published a short blog post about the day’s happenings. These ended up becoming a fun record of the process. ⁠
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Happy throwback Thursday! Take a ride to 2015 with me…⁠
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Here we go! New pen, shiny new manuscript, and (al Here we go! New pen, shiny new manuscript, and (almost a) new lease on life!

This is the first day since getting Covid that I’ve been able to contemplate more than dragging self and family through the day as best I could. But today I have a treat. My brilliant mother, @paulamkeogh has written a novel called GEORGIA SALAMANDER—and I get to read it! 

What could be a better way to begin what will hopefully be a short convalescence than to read this manuscript?

(By the way, Paula is also an acclaimed memoirist and takes on a few select clients for her Memoir Mentor services. DM me if you have a memoir in you and would like to get on Paula’s waiting list.)
Here’s our Fiction Friday GOAT QUOTE! This is fr Here’s our Fiction Friday GOAT QUOTE! This is from my yet-to-be-published novel, Goat Street. ✨📖✨
Let’s throw it back! This is my weekly revisitin Let’s throw it back! This is my weekly revisiting of the writing of my first draft of Goat Street seven years ago. I took myself (and my mum!) on an intensive writing retreat and finished the draft in 30 days. (The rewrites took *just* a little longer.)⁠
⁠
Every night after finishing writing, I published a short blog post about the day’s happenings. These ended up becoming a fun record of the process. ⁠
⁠
Happy throwback Thursday! Let’s take a ride to 2015 with me…⁠
⁠
*******************⁠
April 11, 2015⁠
DAY 2: Word count 3002⁠
⁠
Nice day for it, though, between hailstones and icy winds. Snow on the mountains. Fire in the heart.⁠
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Let’s throw it back! Seven years ago I wrote the Let’s throw it back! Seven years ago I wrote the first draft of my yet-to-be-published novel, Goat Street, in the wild west coast of Ireland. It took a month. I unwound at the end of each day of writing with a little blog post, which I published on Facebook. These started very short, but gradually grew longer as friends started getting involved with the happenings in “the westernmost house in Europe”—which is also a key location in the book.

For Throwback Thursday, I’m going to be posting these little blogs here over the next weeks. Let me know if you enjoy them! 

DAY 1: April 10, 2015
WORD COUNT 2675
YESTERDAY I BOUGHT PLANTS Now, seven new green co YESTERDAY I BOUGHT PLANTS

Now, seven new green companions are living in our city mouse house and I’m finally perfectly in love with the space. We’ve been moving into this apartment in slow motion since the beginning of the year, trekking back and forth from our country mouse house in Pennsylvania with suitcases. 

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Writers: what do you need in a space before you can go deep?
UNDOING THE DAY-CRAM A couple of days ago, I was UNDOING THE DAY-CRAM

A couple of days ago, I was reflecting on the need to build some more exercise into my week. Nothing extreme: just get this creaky old body moving around a bit.

This realization led to me pulling out my calendar to see when said exercise could happen. Everything must be scheduled—which is its own form of disempowerment—but that’s another rant for another day.

The point of THIS rant is the thought process which began unrolling in my mind as I looked at the neat rows of rectangles that represent hours in my days.

Immediately, I looked for things I was already planning to do, and began assessing which of these could be combined with exercise. Could I make that call while on the elliptical without my colleague thinking I was a heavy-breathing prank caller? Could I listen to that recording on the rower? Would it be weird if I showed up to that Zoom meeting on a treadmill?

It never occurred to me to look for time slots that weren’t already full and put exercise in there as an activity to be fully present for. Part of that is that there are very few such slots in my days. But another part of it is this insidious cultural pattern that says, “Optimize!” “Streamline!” “Synergize!”

So my wild inventure for this week is to stop the day-cram. To allow myself to follow my own instincts about what my body and heart and mind and soul need. To bring music back into my days and banish the ravenous productivity monster from my mind—at least for a week.

Who’s with me? Where in your life is this spacious inventure most needed?

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