EVERY DETOUR WAS THE PATH -Episode 4: The Naming Ceremony — and a Personal Request
A dispatch from 30,000 feet — about democracy, a Buck Moon, and a benign pancreatic cyst who has been living rent-free in my pancreas long enough to deserve a name.
by Ditas Katague
Last October I drove across the country alone.
Well. Not entirely alone.
Leif was there. My eight-year-old border collie, who takes his role as co-pilot extremely seriously and requires a bathroom break every four hours whether you need one or not. Excellent for bladder discipline. Excellent for forcing you to stop, stretch, look around, and remember that you are a person with a body, not just a woman with a destination.
We had no rigid itinerary. No hotel reservations. Every afternoon around 3pm I would look ahead on the map, calculate how far we could get in two more hours of daylight, and find a dog-friendly motel somewhere in the general direction of California.
It was wonderful. It was the most free I had felt in years.
We documented the whole thing. Every state capitol had a grassy knoll. Every grassy knoll got a fetch session. Every fetch session got a reel. Leif playing on the lawns of American democracy, utterly unbothered by the state of the republic, just deeply committed to the ball.
On Day 2, somewhere in Kentucky, bourbon still on my breath from Four Roses Distillery, Leif stretched out in the backseat, my phone rang.
It was a foundation that invests in democracy.
They were forming something new. A California Democracy Partnership. Trusted messengers. Voter education. Would I help?
I said yes. Because that is what you do when you are driving west with no rigid itinerary and a border collie and the universe hands you a phone call. You say yes and figure out the rest later.
Fast forward nine months. I am in Los Angeles for an all day convening.
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Leif is not with me this time. He is home in East Sacramento, surrounded by my plants and my yoga equipment and my sound healing bowls, which occupy the entire front room of my house because I am that person now and I have fully committed to it.
Today I stood up in front of my Democracy Partnership colleagues and presented the work my VOICES workgroup has been building.
Here is what we figured out early on: there is not one democracy crisis in California right now. There are two.
A voter trust crisis. Are people willing to show up and believe their vote counts?
And an election systems capacity crisis. Can the actual infrastructure deliver?
Related but distinct. Each needing its own name. Its own solution. Its own focused attention.
I know something about two-crisis diagnoses.
Because while I was building VOICES, my own body was quietly running its own little workgroup. And it came back with a finding that was also not one thing but two.
The car accident. Easter Sunday. That was crisis one.
And the other thing the CT scan found, quietly growing in the tail of my pancreas, probably for years, bothering absolutely nobody, least of all herself, that was crisis two.
She is benign. I want to be very clear about that. She is not cancer. She is not dangerous. She is a serous cystadenoma, a fluid-filled cyst that occurs almost exclusively in women, somewhat related to ovarian cysts, accounting for one to two percent of all pancreatic tumors.
She is, in other words, rare. Niche. Quietly dramatic. Existing entirely on her own terms.
She is, in other words, my kind of woman.
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A friend asked me recently: have you named her yet?
And I realized I had been calling her the Serious Sister.
Because she is a serous cystadenoma, S-E-R-O-U-S, not serious, though she certainly caused a serious amount of chaos for forty-six terrifying days, and because she is, apparently, my pancreatic sister. Living there quietly. Growing slowly. Completely unbothered by everything happening above her.
While I was driving across the country she was there.
While I was getting T-boned on Easter Sunday she was there.
While I was triple-checking benign with a smiling doctor on the other end of the phone she was there.
The Serious Sister. Patient. Quiet. Turns out, harmless.
She deserves a name.
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Tonight is the Full Buck Moon.
It peaks in Aquarius, the sign of community, trusted networks, and the power of the collective. The most socially charged full moon of the summer.
The Buck Moon gets its name from the male deer whose antlers are in full growth mode right now. Growing fast. Still soft, still covered in velvet. Forming out of sight until they are impossible to miss.
Something growing quietly inside you, reaching the point where its growth becomes impossible to ignore.
I cannot make this up.
I am an Aries. And apparently under this particular moon, Aries lights up in the social sector. Your trusted network. Your village. Your people.
I spent the entire day in a democracy convening learning about election protection, discussing trusted messenger networks under this community moon. An amazing, energizing day surrounded by people with such honesty, passion and desire to make sure that everyone has a voice and an equal chance to participate fully in our democracy.
And then I decided to publish this episode asking all of you, my trusted community, to name my cyst.
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So here is the ask.
Under this Buck Moon. Under this naming moon. Under this trust-your-village, light-up-your-social-sector, step-into-visibility moon.
I am asking my trusted messenger network, that is you, in case that was not clear, to help name the Serious Sister.
She is benign. She is rare. She has been minding her own business in my pancreas for years, living quietly on her own terms. She has been with me through the cross-country drive, the car accident, the forty-six terrifying days, three essays, a graduation, a July 4th brunch, and approximately 150 Pilates classes.
She has earned a name.
Drop your suggestions in the comments.
And before you ask, yes, I am leaning toward something close to adenoma, her full medical name. Something feminine. Something with a little dignity. Something that sounds like a woman who has been quietly minding her own business in your pancreas for years and is frankly a little offended it took you this long to introduce yourself.
I will reveal the winner in Episode 5.
Under whatever moon that turns out to be.
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Every detour was the path.
Even the ones growing quietly in the tail of your pancreas.
