Books

It's why I'm late, instead of yesterday, writing today. Moving. Whoever said 'you can never have too many books' never had to move them all themselves. No way was I going to go out again or turn on the computer just for this, and that's saying a lot.

I'm sure there are exceptions, those who would do it multiple times, even. Though I might not be out of line in saying having fulfilled one fantasy of having a wall of books has been a bit encumbering. I've gone through the transition of giving away, acquiring, and losing, with, like a cockatiel who has eggs stolen or broken, makes more to compensate the loss so that the same amount is maintained. Not that I've ever counted them all mind you: just so they take up all of the spaces on the bookshelves.

Back to the encumbering. I was an athlete; would like to be one again. Thought I was unbreakable physically during younger days and pounded my body to its limits even through my child's early years. Diagnosis 2011: 'routine' pre-op chest x-ray. Scoliosis. Now this is something that's usually found in childhood; I didn't have it before, though I had 'always' been 'pre-disposed'. Diagnosis 2014: "extreme spinal deformity" (and three inches shorter; my son got taller than me earlier). Great. Not to say I wasn't feeling it; it was more than just aging. It was a combined toll of things that should never co-occur to any human at the same time.

Now life is a 'before' of what it will be like after 'treatment'. I could be the bionic woman, or not. We'll see. I researched not too many doctors for the first time I ever went under a knife; I was terrified, but it had to be done. I was having trouble sleeping and couldn't wear regular shoes; it was bad. Finally one said casually he could do it, and he did, well. Grateful forever for that, almost like having a new life, being able to wear sandals again, and walk further, until now, which makes the first trepidation look like a picnic.

Anyway, I think I'm (essentially) done with books. Have some great ones. The collection will go through a few minuses and pluses as is life, and I hope someone else will be doing most of the schlepping next time, and not because I can't. Because I don't want to.

Wings

Anything is possible in Heaven, especially across the Rainbow Bridge, where animals are reunited with their housemates or families that have gone before them. 

Patches passing was unexpected.  Whatever took her had been building over a day or two, though with rabbits it's nearly impossible to know until it's almost or in fact too late.

A sound I never want to hear again came from somewhere in the room I just happened to be present and standing in.  At first I had no idea where the sound was coming from.  I looked down to see her roll over convulsing.  I couldn't revive her.  CPR had worked on a kitten before.  Not this time. 

Sunday.  Places nearby, though no vet present, or even a stethoscope.  By the time an open office was reached it was confirmed she was gone.  She was taken quickly in the towel I had cradled her in the entire way searching for someone with a stethoscope that could possibly resuscitate her.  I had apologized and spoken to her in my lap the entire drive to now four places.  I couldn't bear to go back into where they couldn't get her back to say 'goodbye'.  I asked the assistant who was so kind to promise to give her a last hug for me.  She promised. 

I buried Charlie at the beach, with markers the locals added to over time, unaware they were to honor a beloved pet who had saved a child's life.  Patches would be in a smaller box: her ashes, for her original owner, the same child, now a legal adult.

I was in between obligations that day.  The window of time between allowed for getting her to a place that could only confirm she was gone.

The first pet that saved my son's life passed two years ago in the same month.  She tried to 'say goodbye' when I was in denial as well, even though her illness was known and couldn't be treated.  An hour and a half later she was gone.  I didn't take it well: why I changed majors from vet school to fine arts.  I don't do well with death.

Patches leaves her mate, a year older and not as energetic as earlier days.  The cats lounge closer as if to comfort him.  At least one was doing the same near Patches lately though I'd no clue anything was wrong.  She wasn't picked up daily, or maybe I would have noticed the hardness in her midsection.  Or maybe it happened the same day she screamed.  It keeps running like a reel repeatedly in my head.

Not unlike the death of the first and second small mammals we've had, mourning is only slightly less time than losing a human family member.

She had an actual perfectly mirrored wing pattern on her back exactly where wings would be, if rabbits had them. 

I attended church last night, and the tears came back.  When two or more are gathered, the presence of Spirit is felt.  I saw Patches in His lap; He was welcoming her.  After He hugged her, He stroked her back and her 'wings' became elevated and three dimensional.  She left his lap to join her friends that had gone before her by flying down to them. 

'Binky' is the word for a rabbit jumping up in joy and contentment, which hadn't been seen here with Patches or her 'husbun' for awhile, due to their present ages.  'Popcorn' means the same thing, for a guinea pig.  All were respectively 'binkying' and 'popcorning'.  Charlie could jump three times her height standing up when she was young.  Patches and Charlie took turns to see who could go highest, with Smandie looking on, smiling and 'popcorning' herself.  Patches can go higher now, though there was no reason in the joy of the moment, being with her friends. 

1 Corinthians 2:9 : God can put wings on any animal he chooses.  When Patches crossed the rainbow bridge and met Him after her 'family' reunification, her wings became real.  Lots to do here, though am looking forward to seeing them, very much.  Grateful for the comfort of Spirit...

Menopause, and Change

Guess it's now official; one full year without a cycle.  Came close a couple of years that didn't hit the 12 month anniversary.  This time it did.


Blessed is not really the word, though some might argue to the contrary.  The Fall, or original sin got women bleeding regularly.  Lucky is more fitting, at least for now.  Either I have a high threshold for discomfort, or symptoms have not been as classically severe, as it is for many.  Have slowed down, though not entirely because of 'the change'.


Too many other things have come into play, that make this just another milestone, that causes little suffering by comparison.


Saying a prayer of thanks every night, not because so called menopause has come and perhaps gone as well.  Because another day went by when we have so much more than many can say.


Hurricanes, devastation, poverty, hunger, thirst, and not having full physical or mental faculties as a result has not happened here, lately.  It has in too many other places of late, and the world is watching.  'The change' for me is not even a blip on the radar, and I prefer it that way.


We must use what we have to help those who have less, which includes their full faculties, regardless of resources.  Those with the most materially are not always the smartest, and can do things that hurt many others.  We must watch out for them as much as those who become the brunt of ignorant actions.  Every day is a gift, and we must do all we can, every moment.

Bonding

Separation, that shouldn't be.  He calls, and the conversations are longer.  We don't see each other.  He looks different in a way I won't see until a time yet to be known.  He may notice I've aged, when that happens.

He called last to tell me I'd be proud of him.  He's into something similar that we've done together in the past, and taken initiative on his own behalf.  I couldn't be prouder, or any less concerned than usual.Quest

It's supposedly not biblical to fear or worry; it shows a lack of faith.  Next to impossible for a mother when scenarios are described where safety is at risk, regardless of whether he's 'having fun', or otherwise.  Knowing what could have gone wrong that didn't, again, is no comfort, only something to be grateful that didn't happen.  The prayers of gratitude are daily.

He likes hearing my voice, for a change, hasn't been frustrated, at least not as we speak, lately.  Something has changed, for the better.  Maybe prayers are being answered.

He could drive to see me or his grandparents now, though he won't, from years of imprinting that will take years more to transform, once he sees the world for what it is, from his own objective perspective, once out in the world long enough: not something I would dare tamper with, and it would be ineffective or not productive if attempted.  It would neither be fair, nor strengthen the bond.

It's nice to feel respected for a change, however fleeting.  He's forgotten how slow I move so that when we walk together it's hard for him to slow down enough, and walking behind is disheartening.  I don't like to ask to walk beside him instead of following, when as fast as I can isn't fast enough.  My mind moves much faster, and can exhaust my body thinking involuntarily of all that I don't know.

I only know what he tells me, and when something comes out it inevitably causes wonder about all of the other times similar things are bound to have happened I didn't know about.  Questioning beyond casual conversation would harm the bond, so I don't. 

Just grateful for each day he's safe, with his confidence as high as possible, one day at a time.  Grateful for the bond, and the years it took to build that can't be taken away.

Animals

Every morning and evening.  I'm cleaning up after small animals: my son's pets.  Hands are washed many times before all is done or leaving the house.  I never really thought of it as humbling, any more than a farmer would for shoveling up after horses or cows.  It's just what has to be done, no different than changing the diaper of a baby, as many times as necessary.  You don't think about it when they're your own.  You just do it.

It can be done in an hour if there's a need to leave to get somewhere, though I'm not comfortable being out for more than 12 hours; it's not good for them to either have too much waste around or without fresh food or water, not to mention time out of spaces where they sleep or stay during the day when no one is here to pay more attention or let them out.

There's no smell, even when coming back after a long day, so long as the routine is maintained.  I hope they live long enough to be able to enjoy a full fledged sanctuary for rescue animals, where they can come and go as they please in bigger living quarters and plenty of grass to run in outside.  They've experience it before, on vacation; they have to go along.  Not nearly often enough; it should be part of 'life at home'.

They're important, not just for the 'therapy' of having them and interacting with them daily, though for expanding the purpose of why they're here.  When doing the cleaning routine, it's almost impossible to worry or think about anything else than the task at hand, thus the therapeutic or meditative quality of the care process that takes place at least twice daily.

They know they are loved: what makes being in limited quarters bearable when the openings are closed and no one is around for hours.  They are the first and last things checked upon waking and before retiring to sleep.   All of that said, it's clearly not a lifestyle many would envy, though even with abundance and prosperity and the ability to have someone else do the maintenance, I would still want to do as much as one person can, just like now.   When more have a home on a bigger property, their friends will increase, with two legs, and more.

To Create

It's said to be the first verb in the bible.  Opened bins in storage not touched for ten years.  Contents not used nearly ten more.  Five figures of investment, sitting for nearly twenty years, not appreciating, nearly lost on several occasions. 

Survivor's guilt in knowing the hurricane took everything for some not long ago, yet grateful for what we still have.  Some was forgotten or unknown if it survived, as much was lost in other upheavals that compound the impact.  There is still mourning for what can't be replaced, and will be for some time to come.  An evolution began in the process of passing on what others would appreciate more, and what could be moved forward with.

It was therapeutic before.  No different now.  Only a different time, a different series of events in a similar chain.  There are more ideas, though mostly the expression of moving on to something better. 

Compelled to continue.  With many demands on time.  There is no down time.  Only 'what's next', hour by hour. 

There remains life with God's creatures that require attention and care: another form of therapy.  Both the creative and maintenance tasks involving life sustain themselves, which one could not do unless passionately invested in a purpose.

Objectives are not out of sight, though the way is not shown as yet as to how one thing will lead to another.  Having objectives pays the way for the means, though how the means will be utilized has not yet been revealed.

The tasks help in keeping concern at a distance, yet the urgency to complete what must be done does not stop looming.  One day's accomplishments lead to the next hour's task, no moment is ever really guaranteed to be granted, though rewards can come more easily with preparation.

There is joy in solitude, and also pain in uncovering memories of times that will not return.  The opportunity to reflect is a luxury not available to many.  It often feels more like time taken than given, the difference being a choice of action.  Being given the time was not a decision, what was done with it was, and is.

Technology

It was inevitable.  Sooner or later, it would only be a matter of time before the dogged late adopter that I am would be the recipient of the update that replaces what the system will no longer support.

It could no longer be avoided.  I am now tethered to email via phone.  I look differently now at others who once were annoying by constantly looking at their devices.

It's no longer necessary to take the tablet everywhere when the phone will do the job most of the time now.  Anyone else with a computer in Starbucks now looks as though they are working on important projects.

It can save money with apps, where I used to download coupons and schlep the computer into the store and up to the cash register.  Now the barcode is on the phone.

This is probably amusing to read for anyone on a smartphone for years now.  I still am painfully aware how many on the planet struggle to get to school, and, as it was when I was growing up, no access to a phone until returning home, if then.  Landlines in impoverished areas are not likely in every home.   We don't think about how they communicate where they are.  Television in public places provide news.  Parents have no communication until they are home again from school, provided there's a real home.

We still take too much for granted, when all we have for sure is the present.  What we do today paves the way for tomorrow, almost always.  Our minds go from thought to material manifestation in minutes, or years, if we have the inspiration and tenacity to follow through.  Technology, when used wisely, can also help us help others to get to their next 'upgrade', as well.  One way or another, that might just be the purpose behind the purpose.

This post is being written on a phone for the first time.  The computer has timed out, and has to be restarted, again...

New Birthday

Birthdays have become cumbersome by a certain age.  I've remained the same age by choice now for several years, and for obvious reasons must now change the claimed age for credibility purposes to another year, by one.  Let's see how long it can carry me. 

My younger sister still looks younger; I don't bother with makeup for a significant number of years now.  I've adopted the Elizabeth Warren with glasses look, with longer hair, and the days are numbered for that as well. 

It was a good birthday this year, for the first time in awhile.  As I didn't really 'have' the birthdays in between, it's pretty much a wash anyway. 

Last night with all the family excitement, us actually being together for a holiday, I again knew what day it was and the overwhelm factor was so strong yet again the evening passed, until today. 

Still recovering, grateful everyone is safe, and scratching the surface of the catching up from what is usually maintained when alone, almost abandoned with family events in progress.   We will all be still recovering for several days from the travel and getting back to life without family together, which in a way seems very much wrong and neither ideal nor optimally functional.  So much more can happen for the better when everyone is together long and often enough.  Staying busy keeps the sadness away.  Productivity is in spurts instead of steady, which would be different otherwise.

Gratitude

Uncertainty and change are guaranteed, so what is 'stability'? It's a relative term, according to who you are, your 'world view', and the filters created, consciously or otherwise, by every moment up to this one. The word 'ego' was heard recently defined as 'your past'. Get it? Who is who we see in the mirror (if we have one)? At any moment, we can either decide our past is who we are, or decide otherwise.

The hardest to master is oneself, so we're taught. Words are powerful: a lesson that happens on the journey. Another mentor was overheard during a recorded session taking place in a summer youth camp how we can turn negatives into positives with single words, regardless of how we feel. Say, the 'change of season' immune system resistance factor got the better of us on a particular day. "How are you?" someone says in greeting (taking the time to ask, maybe even caring about the answer). Think for a moment; we can choose the answer. Regardless of the 'outside' forces that can attack our bodies or psyches, the answer is still up to us.

"Wonderful" we say (as has this mentor), quickly followed by a cough or tissue to the runny nose that doesn't seem to want to stop, footsteps labored, as we walk slowly beside our inquiring acquaintance or friend. They look at us a little puzzled, as we don't particularly sound so (to them). The middle-ground of this 'transition' is we are in wonder of the ability on this beautiful day to greet another, to have woken up, gotten dressed, breathed, seen the sun, and felt the breeze on our faces. It's the truth. We are 'full of wonder' observing the miracles that occur daily around us, with us, and for us. "Awesome", we say, as we are 'full of awe' of how we may feel or encounter our daily 'happenings'. As the masters who have prospered by these practices can attest, the solutions come much sooner, through the utterances that bring us ever closer to the joys we seek.

“ There is the lesson of a Cherokee man teaching his grandchildren about life. He says to them, ‘A fight is going on inside me. It’s between two wolves. One wolf is evil. He is fear, anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, anxiety, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, competition, and superiority. The other wolf is good. He is joy, peace, love, hope, sharing, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, friendship, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, faith, and laughter. Then he tells his grandchildren that the same fight is going on inside of them, and also inside of every person. The children think about this for a moment, and then one of them asks his grandfather, ‘Which wolf will win?’ The old man then replies, ‘The one that you feed’.”

Many thanks as well to the cherished mentor and friend to have shared more than once the memorable and profound quote provided. The children are here to teach us once again, and forever, as we watch in awe just how rapidly they exercise the mastery they were born with, the low number of their years leaves fresh the innate 'remembrance' that we can choose to laugh directly from tears, their consciousness still close to the surface, unaffected by the layers the larger ones get piled upon them with age. 'Remembering' is not 'going back', it is, or can be taking the next step on the journey.