No birds today
snow obliterating view –
of brighter days
in what is –
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
No birds today
snow obliterating view –
of brighter days
in what is –
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
veer off route –
No backing up,
passage ahead restrictive –
perseverance called for.
Overcome, I will,
plead ignorance –
pay attention next time.
Path to peace is circuitous –
having been modeled unrest,
schooled in denial…
a grassy peninsula –
gently rolling greens
and tranquil blue waters –
predictability that lulls
I am accustomed to together –
the perpetual state of empathic
measuring – one’s values aligned
to another’s emotional indicator
Looking outward, I contemplate;
force-feed my innards with fluff
of how-to’s and top ten ways –
nothing that sustains…
It’s dawning now that neither
upbringing, nor expectation,
nor the noise of expert wannabees,
will lead me to the peace I seek.
I turn my attention to nature –
study the steadfast confidence
of the Great Blue wading through
darkened waters, intently aware
Like a feathered shaman, he
mesmerizes me, commands respect,
calms the noise and lifts my soul –
the secret is within, his presence
whispers, and for once, I listen.
(This week, I am focusing on living with intent, specifically interested in the ways in which I invite peace into my life. My weekly challenge is open to all.)
Inhale – chest rises –
exhale – chest falls – summon new,
expel old; repeat.
(Haiku written for Ronovan Writes Haiku challenge: rise/fall)
Even as we harvest
the fruits of our endeavors,
as the leaves of summer
give over to golden dreams
and light reaches through
gathering clouds, illuminating,
celebrating; we must not forget
that we are a part of this living
miracle, that our lives, in harmony
with Nature, deserve reverence.
This tingling I feel –
my own – your body,
feather light and smooth,
is inert, rolls passively
in my palm, invites
intimacy – softness
of bristles, a reminder,
of the need for mindfulness
I inhale your woodsy scent,
a hint of last night’s liquid
spreading – poised
between my index
and middle fingers,
you remind me of another
addiction – less satisfying –
ours is a collusion of
pleasure – submission
performing on command –
from my mind to hand
to instrument – harmonious
orchestration… let’s paint.
(Written for dVerse Poetics, hosted tonight by Sarah Southwest)
No more out-on-the-town bustles –
the late afternoon light fading in
my corner – focus now turned to
higher issues; try to keep company
with mindfulness – a worthy educator,
facilitating release – but my inventory
is too spun. Achieving a semblance
of completion, something to reflect
my life’s toil, would be welcome, yet
I fear my story is cooked. Guidance
might suggest I’m not alone, but
without my professional footing
I’m at a loss for identity, prodding
to find answers – a woman without
substance, grasping at what is mine.
Seems silly to think that breathing
might offer consolation for this no-
return-on-investment outcome; have
hit a wall, would rage if not numb, so
many parts of self lost in passage…
Midnight approaches and I am tapped
out – a social passenger hitching a ride
on hopelessness – flat broke, empty
(tried to dial up creativity – wrong#)
Contemplate sorrow, luck, temporary
breakdown’s, orchestrated scenes,
a lifelong inability to keep quiet (sorry
kids), a callous bitch – could never get
her to work in my corner, channel that
energy into fitness or financial success –
she just likes to stir things up, doesn’t
believe in peace of mind, jolts me awake
out of my comfort zone. Maybe I need
her now – forgo relaxation and surrender –
to shake this inactivity, give a hand up
to those repressed, forgotten selves –
get her to lift me out this self-conscious
mire – she doesn’t care about feelings –
markets herself with confidence, breathes
assertiveness, knows her own business…
can you see me sitting up a little straighter,
composing myself in the light of this new
possibility, readying myself to relaunch –
reconsidering my stance on corners?
There’s remodelling to be done here –
and orienting to the new will take a bit,
given my age, but I’m willing to concede
that there is community to serve, and
that as long as human rights are being
violated there is a place for compassion,
and no town is immune to need, so I’d
better get my bustle on and start painting.
( Image: lokeshsomu.blogspot.com )
6:30 am. Thor’s alarm goes off. Was I asleep? It is still dark outside and like every other morning, I have nowhere to go, so I roll over, but my mind has already engaged, or rather re-engaged, stuck on the same LP track (a function of this disease) that has been running through my mind all night. I get up, shuffle to the bathroom and while I relieve myself, take my mornings puffs of inhaled steroid to kick-start my lungs.
[Test #1: Can you find a reason to get out of bed when you’ve lost your ability to work, and no one needs or expects anything from you?
My answer: The will to live is stronger than even I might have suspected. Part of me wants to stay with the oblivion of sleep, and another part of me has things she wants to do – life to live – so, yes, I am motivated to wake up each morning and embrace a new day.]
In the kitchen, I turn on the kettle and prepare my over-sized mug for the first cup of tea of the day. Thor is already in work mode – checking his emails – coffee in hand. Tea made, I shuffle back to bed where I start up my own computer and turn on the morning news. I check for emails – mostly advertisements, some postings from blogs that I follow (which I’ll read later) – I am too out of the social loop to receive personal correspondence anymore.
[Test #2: Who are you when many of your relationships have gone by the wayside?
My answer: I am old enough to know that relationships come and go throughout life and while they help shape me, they do not define me. A side effect of losing so many connections is that I am left with a handful of friends whose staying power continually warms my heart.]
Next, I check my online Scrabble games to see if any of my random opponents have played their turn. My brain, more specifically working memory and executive functioning, are affected by this disease. Playing Scrabble is a recommended therapy. Several games await my turn, so I play them.
[Test #3: Loss of brain power: brain fog, confusion, memory loss, etc.
Reality: I lose patience with myself, especially when I make mistakes that affect others. A sense of humour helps, but I do find that this challenge makes me withdraw more than anything. Loss of mental capacity is very tiring. ]
7:30 am. Time to make breakfast. What to have? My go to is instant oatmeal, but on thinking back to what I ate last – sweet potato and a slice of chicken at supper – I think my stomach could handle a bit more. I decide on gluten-free bread toasted with two slices of precooked bacon. I take it back to bed with me and change to the CBC news, rechecking the status of my Scrabble games.
[Test #4: What happens when you no longer have the energy to make optimal life choices?
Reality: For four years I followed a careful vegetarian, dairy-free, gluten-free diet. Every weekend I shopped for and cooked special meals to enhance my well-being. Now I am unable to shop for food, and depend on Thor for much of the cooking, and as his name suggests he is a meat-atarian! Limited energy equates with limited choices. I have let this ball drop for the time being… to be continued.]
News today is all about the TTC strike, and since I don’t even live in Toronto, I decide that listening further is wasted energy. I shut it off and turn to Facebook, reading about the trips my once friends, now acquaintances, are either taking or planning, what they’re making for dinner, or who they are partying with. I switch back to Scrabble.
8:10 am. Thor is dressing for his first morning meeting then stretches across the bed to visit with me for a bit. We talk about his day. I can feel myself getting sleepy. As he gets up to leave, I will myself out of bed again, taking my dirty dishes to the kitchen, making mental note of the work that needs to be done there, then back to the bathroom where I relieve myself, brush my teeth, and think about washing my face, but now I am too tired. I go back to bed instead, choosing a Sonza playlist for sleeping and setting it next to my pillow.
10:36 am. I hear Thor come home, enter the bedroom and check on me, but I am still sleeping and not ready to get let it go. I glance at the time, and notice the faint calling of my bladder, but give in to heavy lull of sleep.
11:47 am. The insistence of my bladder is too strong to ignore now. I get up, amazed that I have slept so long. Thor, hearing my movement, calls that out that I have an appointment in two hours. This time I do wash my face, apply some cream and brush my hair. Sitting facing the dresser, I wonder what to wear and settle on the usual – yoga pants, a t-shirt, and hoodie – my uniform.
I feel renewed after such a long sleep – the best I’ve had in days – so offer to make lunch. Normally, I would nuke a bowl of soup, but I know Thor prefers it heated on the stove, so I pour the pre-made soup into a pot and turn on the stove. I clean up the dishes left from breakfast and complain that the soup seems to be taking a long time (I have limited capacity for standing), so Thor takes over. Not wanting to go back to bed just yet, I sit on the couch and notice all the toys still left out from our granddaughter’s last visit. I try to tidy up, but the movement makes me dizzy, so I sit back down – it will have to wait for my next little burst of energy. Thor serves up the soup and we eat in silence. Not much to talk about on my part; he is no doubt thinking about work.
Soup finished, I snatch an apple out of the bowl and go back to bed.
[ Test #5: Living with restricted energy
Reality: Setting boundaries and valuing the little energy I have is a difficult life lesson: so much of what I do in a day is habitual or mindless. Choosing to use my energy for something useful like writing, or spending time with loved ones is a happy choice. Yet, I find it hard not to get lost in distractions, or worse, “shoulds” ( I should do some laundry, sweep the floor, tidy the table, and so on). I still have lots of work to do in this area. ]
12:27 pm. I listen to an audiobook: The Hare with the Amber Eyes. Some of it is hard to follow, but the narrator’s voice is low and soothing, so I keep pushing forward with the story.
1:00 pm. Esther calls on her lunch break and we discuss her weekend and their upcoming move. She sounds very upbeat, and I hang up feeling good about the conversation – I don’t have to worry about her today.
[Test #6: Worrying about others.
Reality: An excess amount of idle time equates to surplus opportunities to think about others, and as a mother, to feel guilt and concern where my children are concerned. Sometimes, my mind will dwell on past situations and I will spend days spinning over something I’m sure I’ve done wrong. This is one of the reasons I see a therapist. Unnecessary emotional spinning is a definite drain of energy.]
1:15 I play a few more turns of Scrabble.
1:26 Thor reminds me we have to leave soon. I put my cellphone in my purse and go one more time to the bathroom. We discuss whether or not to take my walker. I don’t need it to get into my appointment, but I will if we decide to stop on the way home. Take it, I say. It gives me options.
It’s a beautiful sunny day, and as we drive across town I note that most of the snow has gone from the streets and sidewalks, with only the last black-crusted bits remaining. I feel uplifted, hopeful. Maybe I can get out more, I tell Thor.
[Test #7: Keeping hope alive
Answer: This is another wonderful function of spirit: the ability to regenerate hope! Hope springs from a sunny day, a friendly exchange, a thoughtful gesture, and in my case, a restful nap.]
2:00 pm. The appointment today is my weekly acupuncture visit. Usually I sleep during this visit, but after this morning’s rest I lie instead and think of writing this column, and whether or not I need to continue coming every week, or if I could use my energy for something else.
3:30 pm. We decide to visit at a new Farm Boy on the way home. I want to find some ready made salads I can eat for lunches. The store is big and a bit overwhelming for someone who has been housebound for so long, so I choose a few aisles, adding some things to Thor’s basket. Walking is slow, and I have to sit while studying products. I feel my muscles straining, but push on, so excited to be out and about. I see a former student, and stop for a quick chat. When my my muscles start screaming, I ask for the car keys and head out to wait for Thor in the car, but the sun is so bright and warming that I perch on my walker and soak in the outdoor air. An elder gentleman stops to chat and tells me his wife is housebound and won’t come out. We swap stories and sympathies. When I can no longer sit up, I return to the car and put my seat back.
4:30 pm. Back in bed, pleased by my outing. Missed a call from Marie, but my voice is hoarse from the exertion of going to the store, a signal that means I need to rest, so I’ll text her instead. I put the heating pad under my back and notice I am suddenly cold, so pull up a couple of blankets. Low grade fevers seem to spark up with exertion too.
I work on the blog.
6:00 pm. Thor asks if I want dinner in bed or at the table. Bed is the answer – my muscles are strained from the earlier activities. I set my writing aside and prop up my pillows, anticipating dinner. It is superb! Almond crusted trout and waxed beans. I turn on the news, a habit I still haven’t shaken – but tire of it quickly. I have some prerecorded shows to watch and want to catch up on. Even though I am only supposed to watch one hour of television per day (it’s too stimulating) I decide to have a marathon and watch three shows.
9:30 pm Being able to fast forward through the commercials helps, but now I have a headache, and the images from the programs are locked in my brain – this is why watching too much is not a good idea – I cannot shake things easily. Also, I noticed that I am very emotional and cried easily over every little thing – another sign that I am off balance at the moment.
10:00 pm. Finish writing this blog, and text with my girls. Ready for bed but wired. Will check in on my Scrabble games and then maybe work on a jigsaw puzzle to quiet my mind.
[Test #8: Compliance
Reality: It will be days before I recover from the “extras” I indulged in today: my muscles will complain and stop working, sleep will become elusive, and I will not have the energy to get out of bed. I will become cranky, feel discouraged, and want to give up. Then it will pass, and I will try again, and when I feel good, I will want to do to it all – that’s my nature. (Not to mention that I am obviously a slow learner.)]
Life is constantly testing us – living with chronic disease only magnifies this universal truth. Some days I am more conscious of those lessons, and able to learn and grow; other days I prefer to just exist. Right now, I would say I’m passing with a C-: lots of room for improvement.
How about you. Are you acing life’s tests, or just getting by?
“Can you consistently eat when you eat, and sleep when you sleep?” asks Derek Lin in “The Tao of Joy Every Day”.
Therapeutic Touch is a practice which teaches how to stay fully present and centered in the moment. Practitioners learn how to set aside all distractions so that they can focus completely on the treatment itself. Like many others, I struggled with this concept in the beginning. I would quiet my mind, focus on my breathing, and then remember I had forgotten to change the laundry over, or return my mother’s call. My mind, I discovered loves to travel in multiple directions at once.
To train myself, I would pick random times during the day and “check-in” on myself. The first thing I discovered was that I was driving without actually being aware of what I was doing. Behind the wheel, I felt an inexplicable need to be in front of the traffic, weaving in and out, tailgating, and exceeding the speed limit. I decided to replace this behaviour with mindful breathing, always bringing my awareness back to what I was actually doing. Instead of passing the car in front of me, I would take deep breaths, and will myself to stay aware. It didn’t take long before I began to notice other drivers like myself, driving aggressively. Ironically, I noticed that many of those drivers did not gain a lot of ground, having to stop for the same lights, and succumb to traffic. Remaining conscientious and choosing to drive mindfully, I knew myself to be a lot less stressed than those other drivers. It was an aha moment.
I learned how to bring my full attention to my clients, effectively able to sense the subtleties and different patterns they presented. I felt I had mastered this art.
Yet, in response to Lin’s question, I have to confess that I usually eat as an aside to whatever else I am doing, and when I sleep I toss and turn with thoughts of what was undone from the day before, or what needs to be done tomorrow.
I can’t help but think that if I could just focus on eating as a solo activity, I would be more conscious of the taste of the food and the response of my body, and maybe, just maybe, not eat to excess. I would have to turn off the t.v., and the computer, close the book, and just eat. It is a effort worth exploring.
As for sleeping, well, that is another matter. How does one clear the mind enough to just sleep?