Sunday, May 23, 2021

 An update on the sorry state of affairs over here. I'm better. Which means I no longer have terrible cramps and an unmentionable bowel situation. I am wrung out and weepy. My naturopaths have me drinking aloe vera juice, swallowing green tea extract, various probiotics, vit D and calcium and eschewing gluten :( and dairy :((.  How does one live without bread? And pie? And cookies? etc. 

They did give me a recipe for congee, which is the most delicious food in the entire world. It's white rice cooked forever til it's mush and then you add sauteed veggies and some ginger and broth and soy sauce and slurp it up. It honestly soothed my whole body. And I ate it for three days. 

I do lie around for hours. I make myself take one reasonable walk with Felix. The weather has been prefect, about 55, partly sunny and lush. I'm eating from the garden. No raw veggies so I steam the lettuce and spinach. I just can't let them go to waste. I am a wastrel. I could be writing the GAN (great American novel) or at least a book of poetry but instead I scour netflix et al. for anything I haven't already watched. Lying on the couch drinking tea and bemoaning my fate. 

I meet with my Year to Live folks tomorrow. I told the teacher I might have taken the assignment a bit too seriously. Next week I'm doing another vaccine clinic (I'll be fine. I've done two already and I wasn't feeling so hot for either of those.) I think I suck as a sick person. I vacillate between feeling useless and depressed to contemplating the meaning of life, all to no avail. I don't want to talk to my friends because they want to know if I need anything and I'm good. I don't want to talk about it. Then I think about my many friends who have/are dealing with chronic conditions or cancer scares and I think I'm just an asshole. 


These are my unvarnished thoughts, y'know. I don't want advice. I don't want to complain. I just...float here in this sick/healing body with foggy thoughts and hyper sensitive feelings. 

If I'm perfectly honest, I'd say I'm waiting, being patient and trying to be kind to this uncertainty, this off-kilter physical experience. I'm dizzy, unbalanced (literally) and unsure of my strength. Before this happened, I would launch into the day, ride my bike, swim, walk and hike for miles. Garden and water. Give myself daily tasks to write and meditate and do good deeds. Now I'm emptied out. Depleted. I do think about what it is to die, the withdrawing of the elements from the body. Not morbid here. Honest. Just a reflection on the corporality, the frailty of the body. Its' impermanence.  

Floating, that's what I'm doing. Floating. Taking the time to really look at the present moment without my usual distractions. Maybe in the world but not of it. Interesting. Very interesting. Untethered. 

What is important? We've been there for over a year. What matters to us? What really matters? I'll be coming back down the mountain and maybe I'll have some stories to tell. 


am said...

"... What is important? We've been there for over a year. What matters to us? What really matters?..."

Thank you for your clarity in not wanting advice and asking your questions.

First I want to say that there is some synchronicity in that you spoke of floating. In the past week I've been engaging in a hybrid form of meditation that evolved from combining my nearly lifelong asana practice with a more recent intermittent practice of focusing ( Yesterday, during my 2-hour period of meditation which includes two short periods of sitting meditation, I was astonished to identify the sensation of floating peacefully in cool water and then being able to identify the cool water as the amniotic fluid that is the world we live in. With a little Googling, I came up with the words "gestational sac." The coolness was outside the gestational sac and unlike the warmth and safety and protection of the fluid in which one floats in a mother's womb. The world presents us with something more than our inner warmth. We are warm bodies in a world where we are extraordinarily vulnerable and invulnerable. Paradox.

Love is what really matters and the "invulnerable beauty of the world" (Robinson Jeffers).

Thank you for the beauty in your new header!

Sending love as you float. Looking forward to further stories.

Ms. Moon said...

Illness changes us for sure. And it gives us empathy for those who suffer chronically. This is not advice Please. You have a trip to make in October. ❤️ You have a friend to hug.

My life so far said...

Illness has a way of doing this, bringing up thoughts of death and literally bringing us to our knees. Just because others have it worse, doesn't mean you can complain. You are suffering and your suffering isn't any less important than any other suffering.

I hope your body gets back into balance soon. Sending hugs.

Sabine said...

From somebody who has been floating like that for years, every day is a gamble, welcome and enjoy the ride.

If you get tired of the congee, there is gluten free oatmeal. I am living proof that oatmeal as a staple diet can keep you going places.