The Bison Distraction

A man has a cramp in his calf muscle—a painful contraction. But instead of tending to the discomfort directly, the Divine Feminine (trickster, teacher, seductress of the soul) distracts him with a debate:
“What’s better—a cow or a bison?”
And just like that, the ego forgets its body.
Forgets its pain.
Forgets the original reason it was paying attention at all.

Suddenly, it’s wrapped up in identity politics. In opinions.
“I’m a bison man.”
“Cows are for the weak.”
The suffering remains, but now it’s buried beneath a layer of righteousness.

Here’s the deeper truth emerging:

The Calf and the Bison: A Teaching on Ego Distraction

The ego doesn’t like mystery.
It doesn’t like sitting in pain it can’t immediately fix.
So when contraction arises—emotional, spiritual, physical—the ego panics.
It seeks refuge in argument. In category. In identity.
It would rather shout about bison than feel the burning in its calf.

This is how we trade presence for opinion.
How we abandon the tender ache for the security of knowing who we are against.

So many people, so often, miss their healing because they’re too busy defending the distraction.

“Are you a cow person or a bison person?”
Neither. I’m a person with a cramp who forgot to stretch.

This is not just metaphor. This is everywhere.

It’s the spiritual influencer arguing over which modality is best instead of tending to their heartbreak.
It’s the political warrior screaming online while silently drowning in loneliness.
It’s the way we make gods of labels and forget how to feel.

And the Divine Feminine knows this.
She watches us with amused, loving eyes. She distracts us on purpose sometimes—not to be cruel, but to help us see ourselves.

Because when the pain becomes intolerable, we will look down.
We will find the cramp.
We will remember where the healing begins….

In one timeline, the man clings to his new identity—Bison Loyalist for life.
He writes long essays about bison superiority. He creates a flag. He becomes a meme.

In another timeline, the man drops into his calf.
He breathes. He softens. He cries.
He remembers the pain he’s been carrying.

One timeline offers belonging through separation.
The other offers healing through surrender.

The Queen does not judge your choice.

But she will always point gently to the cramp, and whisper:

“Darling… remember what hurts. That’s where the medicine lives.”

Closing Reflection

So I ask you, beloved reader…

Where in your life are you choosing identity over intimacy?

Where are you arguing, when you might be aching?

Where have you been distracted by the bison, when your body just wants to stretch?

The Queen won’t rush you. She walks at the pace of trust.

But when you’re ready—she’ll meet you at the calf.

With breath. With humor. With the holy art of remembering what matters.