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Beautiful Wildlings!
I often forget who I am and what I’ve been capable of.
My identity feels like a piece of fabric constantly being unraveled and re-woven, shaped by where my focus lands and my body’s capacity.
The threads that defined me last year — or 10 years ago — are now part of a different pattern, one I’m still piecing together.
Being a multipotentialite and a Manifesting Generator, my focus shifts with my passions. It’s thrilling but also challenging. Seeing something through to completion becomes a delicate dance of energy and interest.
If the dopamine drops, my excitement may fizzle.
I’ve learned that honoring my commitments requires a strategy: checking in with myself, my capacity, and my top passions before I say “yes.”
Understanding my Human Design has been key to syncing my body and mind. Add the layers of AuDHD, and it becomes clear why I have to reflect, visualize, and keep things physically visible to stay focused. Out of sight, out of mind isn’t just a saying for me — it’s a lived experience.
It’s also why I’ve learned to treat my relationships like a fire that needs regular tending — not because I don’t care, but because I know how easy it is for me to get caught up another slipstream of Time.
Eight years ago, I packed a few knitting projects when I left the U.S. Some are still unfinished but not abandoned. They’re waiting.
One is a wrap made of merino and yak fibers, knitted lengthwise, which I started on my annual vacation in Tuolumne Meadows in 2016. I’m 35 rows from finishing it, but it’s been a journey of picking up and putting down.
When I finally returned to it, I had to relearn the pattern. The shawl echoes the seasons I’ve passed through, from the hot days in Nicaragua — where there was barely a five-week window for cozy wool — to the cooler Chiapas highlands, where it’s now sweater weather most of the year.
Knitting is a way of staying tethered to my hands, the Earth, and the fibers that connect us all.
Here in Chiapas, I had hoped to find a good supply of local wool and plant-dyed yarns. I’ve been dreaming of a knitting circle to weave threads of community. But the reality has been shuttered shops and acrylic fibers.
For me, fiber matters — it must be natural, hand-dyed, and imbued with respect for the animals and plants it comes from. If I’m going to spend eight years on a project, the materials need to hold stories, not just warmth. 😂
My body and my commitments often clash. The MacGyvered finger cushions I found in my knitting bag reminded me why I set the shawl aside years ago — my fingers and arms had stiffened to the point of rebellion.
These days, a menagerie of herbs and supplements keeps my joints pliable, but the memory lingers. Who I think I am and what my body allows are often at odds.
My body’s capacity for adventure isn’t the same as when I was a kid, scrambling up windmills or trees like a squirrel. But in August of 2016, during a break from the Hilary campaign headquarters I had organized, some of my family and I hiked Half Dome’s backcountry trail from Tuolumne Meadows, defying the months I’d spent on crutches from a hip injury.
Though I didn’t reach the summit — the last 400 feet of chains demanded upper-body strength I didn’t have in me — I went as far as I had hoped. However, my kid did climb the summit, and that means more to me than doing it myself. Why? Because we ALWAYS want our kids to do better than us.
And the view from the shoulder of Half Dome is unforgettable.
It took so long to get out of the valley on the second day coming down from the summit (my toes were like hamburger meat) that we had to hitchhike back to our camp in Tuolumne Meadows — the shuttles had stopped running hours earlier.
Holding a makeshift hitchhiking sign — Tuolumne $ — on a pizza box from the Curry Village Pizza Deck, we eventually met a kind woman (an angel in disguise?) who not only gave us a ride but also needed a spot to camp for the night. It was one of those serendipitous moments that remind you how things can fall into place, even when the journey feels impossible.
Even now, I feel that I could climb a great pine tree. My spirit still knows what’s possible, even if my body says no.
Remembering who I am gets clouded by what my body can or can’t do on any given day. As someone with disabilities that come and go into remission, I’ve learned to separate my worth from my physical capacity.
This practice has been essential for navigating my life and aging. It reminds me that identity is more than the sum of what we can accomplish in a moment — it’s woven from what we persist in dreaming and daring.
Forgetting what we’re capable of only serves dominator culture.
If we lose sight of our agency and power, it becomes easy to believe we don’t have the capacity to meet these Times. But remembering — even in small, everyday acts like picking up an essential but temporarily forgotten project or summoning the courage to climb a mountain — becomes a form of resistance.
Like a shawl half-knitted or a summit half-climbed, our identity is always in motion, unraveling and reweaving itself with each season.
Personal cosmology is the art of seeing these threads — the passions, capacities, and beliefs that shift with Time — and weaving them into something uniquely yours so you can do the things you’re here to do.
Whether we finish the project or reach the summit, what matters is staying present with and honoring the process and noticing what it reveals about who you are becoming and how your story adds to the larger fabric.
If this resonates with you, I invite you to explore the threads of your own personal cosmology.
Together, we can map the stories, patterns, and rhythms that shape your life — and find new ways to connect with the Flow of Time, your creative essence, and the world around you.
Stay wild, love fiercely. Your presence is golden.
With wild and rebellious love,
Ciao! xo IxchelDecolonial Cosmologist
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I was raised and bore children on the traditional, unceded, and stolen lands of the Coast and Central Valley Miwok (colonized as Petaluma, CA) and Nisenan (colonized as Sacramento and Fair Oaks, CA), past, present, and future. I also write, work, and live in the highland forest of the traditional, unceded and stolen lands of the Totonac, Nahua, and Mexicah, past, present, and future, in what is known as Coatepec, Veracruz, Mexico.
P.P.S. I do not live or consent to the colonial impositions regarding the construct of Time. I also practice honoring rhythms of work, play, and rest so that I can serve you with embodied presence and with loving care. This means I may take several days to respond to your requests and questions. (h/t Eva Glamaris)
P.P.S. A mention is not necessarily an endorsement of someone. It’s an acknowledgment, a citation, of the origin of information in my process of understanding. (h/t Kelly Diels)
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Copyright © 2026, Cheyenne, WY, and Veracruz, Mexico, All rights reserved. Sharing your lineage of knowledge is decolonial. When iterating, please cite me. Not citing is epistemicide.
