This pic was taken nearly a year ago, showing a finger wound that CatGirl bandaged with some lamb’s ear and a sprig of flowering Mexican sage. So sweet.
I ambled out towards the garden tonite and had conversations with nearly a dozen different neighbors. We spoke about death (one friend recently lost a colleague), about how I am watering my tomatoes (too much), about housing costs in Irvine (too high!), and about what a beautiful night we were having. Too lovely!
:)
We ought to dance with rapture that we might be alive… and part of the living, incarnate cosmos.
~D.H. Lawrence
This fuschia plant is one of several outside outside my kitchen windowsill. When I see bright fuschia flowers I always think of ballet dancers–with their bright tutus, pirouetting on one leg.
Have I told you that when I stand at the sink and wash dishes, I put on my iPod and dance? It’s such a great way to make an unpleasant chore fun. :)
About halfway during my son’s swimmeet today I had an “aha” moment. I was working at the head table (entering stats into the team computer) and was continuously interrupted by people asking me about their volunteer jobs for the meet (which I knew nothing about–at all). It took about two hours for me to realize that they were confusing me with the Parent Volunteer Coordinator.
So I asked a person sitting next to me whether I resembled the PVC. He replied that I do–so much so that he had assumed that we were related.
Wow. That’s just kinda weird.
So I asked John if we look alike. He said we look about as alike as any two suburban, anglo, brunette women with ponytails and wearing the same outfit (standard Mom uniform–crops and a tank).
Heh.
John snapped this pic of me this morning as I was doing yoga–arching my back and opening my shoulders. We have this weird room in our house that’s adjacent to the bathroom (well technically it’s part of the bathroom, because it’s where the sinks are). It’s nearly as big as a bedroom and it’s where I store and use exercise equipment–balance ball, yoga mat, handweights, pilates reformer, mini trampoline.
Sure it’s odd to be doing yoga in the bathroom, but I suppose we all have to make the best of whatever space we have available…
Today I woke feeling like wearing a long swishy skirt and burning candles on the back porch while reading poetry.
But…
I have to work two shifts in concessions at GameBoy’s swim meet (for the next 4 hours) and then grade 40 midterms. And we won’t even talk about the household stuff that needs doing (laundry, laundry, and more laundry).
Sigh.
About two years ago I bought a bike, and not just any bike–it’s a tricked-out bright red tricycle. This bicycle allows me much independence. I can ‘commute’ to work far more cheaply and quickly than by driving, I can keep up with my kids when they’re on their skates or bikes, and I can have the joy of getting places with my own muscle power.
Because I have a disability that limits my mobility (especially preventing me from walking long distances), my bike facilitates my independence in so many ways.
This evening I took a 30 lb load of compost to the garden in my basket along with some seedlings. I routinely carry a week’s worth of groceries in my “trunk.” Tomorrow morning I will pedal to the local Farmer’s Market and return home with several bags full of tasty local produce.
I suspect that many of my LDS acquaintances have thought that when bad things happen to me or my family, that we’re reaping the consequences of leaving the church, breaking the commandments, and/or reneging on covenants. (As in, “If only she had been wearing her temple garments, they would have protected her from injury.” Note to my non-LDS readers–said holy undies are offered with the promise that they will be a “shield and a protection” to the wearer.)
I suspect that some of my LDS acquaintances have thought that if only I had gotten a priesthood blessing from Mormon elders, my recent ailment would have cleared up much sooner.
While I can understand this line of thinking to some extent (given Biblical precedence and all), I wonder if any of my readers believe that God works this way? Do you think that God punishes nonadherents? Would he purposefully smite one of his children with an illness as punishment for wayward behavior or for not wearing godly undies? Or would he withhold healing from a person until they submitted to a a priesthood blessing?
This morning I picked up the key for my summer office. It turns out that, for the first time ever, I won’t be sharing an office.
You know what this means? I can make all kinds of bodily noises and scratch myself whenever and wherever I want.
This is huge, people.
You know what else? Guess what I found on the wall? A map of the “Camino de Santiago” pilgrimage route.
The universe sure knows how to make this pilgrimgirl feel right at home…
What a gorgeous morning it is here in Cache Valley! John and I stole away from the wedding preparations for an hour to have breakfast together in a friendly cafe (so friendly that they even remember our drink preferences from yesterday’s visit!).
Yesterday I did the preliminary legwork for my research at USU later in the summer, I spent time holding and playing with nieces and nephews, I met the many friends and family members of the groom that I’ve heard about for so many years, I giggled with siblings and in-laws, and enjoyed June weather as it was meant to be.
In just a few hours our kids (duet on flute and cello) will be playing the processional as my youngest sister walks down the aisle. As they practiced last night and I watched their earnestness, my heart swelled so large with pride at these two gifted and beautiful creatures!
This is one of those days when one feels the whole world is alive and awake and smiling–life is so sweet! I feel as though I want the earth to swing just a bit slower on its axis today. To let this day last just a bit longer…
UPDATE: Thanks French police! I am contente and not content!!
Nearly every night for the past week I’ve gone late to the garden, watering as the night falls. Lingering until it’s nearly too dark to see my way out. Every moment that I’m there I’m afraid–mostly because of the little beasties that come out in the dark, but also afraid of other hazards. Like two nights ago, I purposefully placed my chair on the site where my leg was punctured. I sat there thinking about how scary that was, how scary the ensuing two months have been, how scared I am that my doctors still can’t agree on how to proceed from here. I let that fear fill me as I sat, and then let it fade away as the night grew progressively darker.
Tonite as I stood alone in the garden, leaning in the wooden fencerail and telling myself that the rustling in the bushes was just a big furry moth, I saw movement out of the corner of my eye and knew that I wasn’t alone.
It was the largest coyote that I’ve seen–heavy and full-coated. Nothing like the skinny creatures that I typically see in our neighborhood. I wondered if he was the reason that the bunny population is slim this year and two neighbor cats have recently gone missing. He paid no attention to me, but was intent on moving quickly down the service road that accesses the garden area.
I stood there awhile longer, mentally reviewing recent events. I thought of last night, sitting in Bonny’s porch and chatting by candlelight with some of my dearest friends as I watched the ocean mist roll in (what a lucky girl to live so close to the beach!). We had talked about our recent read of Three Cups of Tea and mused on the courage it took to risk one’s life and resources for the love of children half a world away. Then I thought about my frustration this afternoon after my doctor appointment. How my leg throbbed during the drive there and back in rush-hour traffic and how that feeling was exacerbated by every doc that I saw having an entirely different (and contradictory) opinion on my woundsite. Wondering if the medical system has failed me or am I just not asking the right questions?
My thoughts then turned to happenings after the doctor visit. How CatGirl and I had stopped at a craft store to buy a bit of yarn for some projects and I came up (again) empty-handed in my search for a turquoise bead to center this necklace that I’ve been dreaming about. We arrived home to the pleasure of two packages on the front porch and a friend waiting to chat. He was bearing a slim book on my favorite topic.
I spent the next hour unloading some of my frustrations about my doctor visit as we discussed faith and fear. I am afraid to travel to my sister’s wedding this weekend with so much unresolved about my health. But, as he reminded me, this won’t be Denver and me sitting feverish and sore and scared in a hotel room by myself. Nor will it be me breaking down in tears as I face down the TSA dimwits alone.
As I have learned time and time again over the past few years, life is about overcoming fear. It is standing at the garden gate and waiting for the moon to rise even when every part of your body wants to run to somewhere safer. It is explaining your story to yet another doctor as she puzzles through your chart and tries to make sense of it all. It is knowing that there are coyotes and cancers lurking out there in the dark night.
Those two packages that were waiting for me on my porch? One was a box full of dark chocolate and Summertime tea from some dear friends that I’m acquainted with through the magic of the Internet. The other was filled with beads, including a turquoise lozenge that is nearly exactly what I’ve been imagining (along with a postcard note reminding me of an unforgettable day spent in Concord not too long ago).
Catgirl and I brewed some rose-colored tea and nibbled chocolate and spread out our beadmaking supplies under the light of a lamp on the kitchen table. We giggled and dreamed and created together. Filling the gap left by fear.
Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come.
You wait and watch and work: You don’t give up.
~Anne Lamott
Friends, I’m at a bit of a crossroads on the path to healing right now. If all goes well over the next few days, much more aggressive treatment may be avoided. So if you have a spare moment, can you send a little healing energy my way? Happy pictures, thoughts, things to make me laugh–are all good medicine.
Thank you for caring and thank you for the continued magic of our bloggerly community.
:)
