Probably....

 I've heard the whispers

And I've followed through

I don't want pride to get in the way
But....

Is it you?

Spirit? Son? Father?

I will keep this close to my heart

May I remember as the days go along without any whispers

Do I still believe? 

Probably...

The Gift...

In the belly of the whale

I sit

Faint glow from a fire that does not emanate heat

It simply gives light

Enveloping this fascinating room

Like a womb

But not a womb

I sit here for comfort

I sit here to hide from the harsh elements

That have tried to consume me

Like predator for its prey

The last five weeks

I sit here for hours

Unaware that I sit there

Unconscious of Whale and I

Until a bit later as I lie down on the table

With eyes closed

As Michele practices her gift

Then I see it

The whale room

We are floating in a warm, soft nighttime

There is a faint orange hue outside the belly

Along the horizon where dark mountains rise

It appears as a silhouette through Whale's thick skin  

I love this darkness

I whisper silently

This comforts me

I feel safe in this type of darkness

Whale swims to shore

Opens her giant mouth

Extends her giant tongue

And gently drops me off onto the soft, sandy beach

Into the darkness outside of Whale

Still will campfire

Whale floats in the water

Shallow depths

But enough to keep her breathing properly

She is happy

She smiles

I smile

As I sit on the beach

Enveloped by this magical darkness

And then a swirl

Like that of the Milky Way

Like that of my thumbprints

Like that of the twisting ladders

Of my DNA

And then

Back on the beach

Lying down now

Resting

From the sheer exhaustion of simply being

In this body

Tormented by pain and stupor

I sit up

And see an elephant

Hmm...Is not the elephant the biggest beast on earth

Is not the whale the biggest swimmer in the sea

What does this mean

Elephants don't live on the beach

Or do they

But this one is here

On this beach

He is a gentle beast

With his trunk he sprays water over his head

And onto his back

But from where does this water come

For it isn't salty

It is fresh

Shorts: May 2023, One (5/01 - 5/14)

   To read an introduction and access the Shorts index, click here: Shorts: Introduction

Dedicated to all who suffer in silence...

Which isn't silent at all...

The torment is a far scream from quiet...

You are heard...

      You are not alone...

     We are not alone...

Monday, 5/01/23

Today in 17 syllables

Disorientation

Orientation

That's 20

Now 27

Lying on my belly

Hair-thin needles

Head, back, arms, hands

Legs, feet

And plum blossom

Keb sings

"Get down on your knees and pray"

I think I will, Keb

Monday, 5/01/23

Lying in bed

Gazing out window

Watching leaves

Clap and wave

I want to be recognized

I want others to know I've done things

I want to be seen

Does air want to be seen

What does air look like

Air moves things

Valance on window

Crytal hangs on fishing line

Air from vent

Causes both to dance

I felt very lonely today

But now I see

Air is my companion

Wednesday, 5/03/23

Writing without my lap desk

Balance Moleskine on thighs

Balance pen awkwardly

Between thumb and two fingers

Thursday, 5/04/23

When Son made an error

In a baseball game

Coach would say

"Shake it off"

This morning

Envisioning pain

In left thigh

It was an oval shape

Orange in color

Which then turned to creamsicle

Do I write 

17 syllables

Too tired to try

Headlamp shines on page

I close my eyes

Gently smile

Outside and in

Friday, 5/05/23

Recording thoughts

One syllable

At a time

To not be bound by them

To not be bound by the present-past

The last second has already passed

I think my Insiders are in some way

Related to my organ systems

Fascinating

Do I share about my Insiders

No, not yet

Maybe never

You have trusted healers

With whom you've shared

And they don't think you are looney

Diana, Michele, Andres, Todd

True healers

My body is the true healer

I wonder if others have Insiders

Born from making sense of the world

Of making sense in their own world

Perhaps that is one way 

That cartoonists create

Guardians 3 is out!!!

Why do I shiver

When I am not cold

Is my body shaking off toxicity

Warming me in order to receive

Close my eyes

Ask, "what do I write"

So that is what I wrote

Wrote Shorts on my phone this morning

That is so strange

That we can "write" on our phones

Is a Short a Short

If I type it on my phone

Instead of writing it in my Moleskine

Saturday, 5/06/23

Release my self from the 

Eye of scrutiny

Dive back into the 

Eye of the storm

I grok the torture

The insanity

Of sleep deprivation

It causes something

That I cannot describe 

In this moment...

It's like a fuzzy darkness

Impossible to grasp

Where the stars are not clear

Are they stars

Or are they 

Snowflakes

Whatever they are

They vibrate, staticky

Like the signals are not getting through

I see this in my brain

Not in my torso

Is the static I feel

Like that in my limbs

Decision making

Is next to impossible

Thankful my self-care tasks

Are routine

Sunday, 5/07/23

Shorts are like 

Tweets

But shorter

Shorts are just thoughts

That is all they are

Thoughts with words

Looking out 

Bedroom window

Refreshing view

Vomiting today

Weak on weak

Sick on sick

This journal has gotten 

So messy

There must be some oxen

In the stalls

Where there are messes

There is life

Be thankful for the messes

Monday, 5/08/23

How do I describe

The last 31 hours

It's felt like a month

I felt even weaker today

After I was able

To move about a bit

No wonder I can't

Totally relax

I lose function

When someone is in a coma

Someone else has to 

Move the sleeper's limbs

Otherwise, they atrophy away

Wednesday, 5/10/23

For months I've wondered

What is the point of working so hard

Just to keep my body moving

That is my full-time job

But to what end

I'm not able to serve others

Yesterday an answer came

When preparation meets opportunity

Success happens

I'm staying prepared

Hubby snores loudly

In adjacent bedroom

Where Son used to snore

Saturday, 5/13/23

The dizziness

The nausea

Please stop

Pining for life

Outside the incessant

Tasks of selfcare 

Pining for life

Beyond the incessant

Misery of symptom overload

I pant to escape this drudgery

Therein my suffering is multiplied

Desiring life to be otherwise 

Gratitude

Acceptance

Endurance

Ground me

This too shall pass

By death or

By worsening or

By freedom

I wish I could convey more clearly

The severity of my symptoms

All their repurcussions

GET ME

OUT OF 

HERE!!!!

Sleep would be

A welcome

Escape

Sunday, 5/14/23

Daughter texted today

Son called

Filled with gratitude

Is my heart

How do you feel

Grateful, so grateful

Last night I was raging

I am whole

I trust

I am love

I am

Heat on back

Headlamp on forehead

Fan breezes cool me

Comfort is

Not being

Dizzy

I breathe in the suffering

Of all the medically injured

I breathe out

Peace, comfort, strength

To all

Gratitude for windows...

I feel the pull

I give in

Staring again at the digital screen

An online community of good, good people

Carol, stop

Do not go down this path

Not for the reasons you do

Connection

Validation

Value

Worth

This screen seldom helps meet any of those needs

Needs

Yes, they are needs

But the online life can't meet them

Where you are

But, I'm humanly alone so often

And I seldom have energy to engage

It comes in bits and spurts

Engagement in 2D, in 3D, with other humans

Carol, what does meet those needs?

Nature

Though I'm more limited than previous years

And I deeply grieve that loss

And I cry

But Carol, think of all the memorable, magical wanderments

And, still they happen

Even with my limitations

Books

The kinds that have paper pages

Is it the tactile experience that helps with the intimacy

Is it the depth of what is shared

Is it the feeling of not having to respond or give it a thumbs up

Rereading

My own ponderings

Reminding me of lived experiences

Reminding me that I'm not unintelligent

Reminding me of how far I've come

Reminding me that I have gained some wisdom

Reminding me of Rilke and to love the questions

Breathing

Recalling the days when breathing was tortuous

Fluid-filled lungs

Wheezing

Struggling for the next breath

Even through my totally blocked nostrils

Carol, you can smell now

You no longer struggle to breathe

And you are still alive after decades of that struggle

Breathing

Going within

Connecting with my Insiders

Inhaling suffering of myself and others

Exhaling compassion and understanding

Music

Lifting me

Moving my heart

Acknowledging that I'm not alone

Rhythm in my body and soul

Singing aloud

Making up my own words

Singing in tongues

Prayer

But not necessarily to a supernatural being

Rather, of gratitude for this great big universe
Its beauty
Its wander

And connections I've had over the years

As people and animals come and go in my life

As I go and leave in others'

Okay, composing this little whatever-it-is

Helps

Now, get along to your next

Self-care task

With gratitude for all you've been blessed by and with

And for windows

Shorts: April 2023

  To read an introduction and access the Shorts index, click here: Shorts: Introduction

Dedicated to all who suffer in silence...

Which isn't silent at all...

The torment is a far scream from quiet...

You are heard...

      You are not alone...

     We are not alone...

Tuesday, 4/04/23

[A poem from Shorts: Yellow Court]

Leaving Corps twice

In panic

Maybe this is similar

Flight

Is there anger

Simmering under

My non-rest

What is she shares and twists it

Like I didn't tell her upfront

But I did

Be more quiet before I share

No

That's not it

Choose more wisely

But I don't like the word

Wisely

Felt worse after Thursday

Afraid of insomnia if I do

Afraid of more weakness if I don't

Thursday, 4/06/23

[A poem from Shorts: Instead...]

Sunday, 4/09/23

Headlamp shines on page

and I wonder, 

When will I write again, draw again?

God I pray... 

please watch over A, to bring her joy

to help her feel safe. 

And my family too.

John, Sarah, Matt

Josh, Natalie

Yerba, Archie, Ozzy

All

And me too... :) 

Wednesday, 4/12/23

How did I start to feel better

this afternoon?

Oh yes, Ignatia the Saint <3

Deer, insects, snakes

squirrels, crows, songbirds

raccoons, chipmunks, possums...

Our backyard family - some

I feel 

life flow through me

though it cannot be seen

with the physical eye

So many projects I start

Some are only almost-starts

But so few I finish

And that's okay

The important ones 

get done

They are all important

Aren't they

Yes, but some have to wait

Goodnight

Perhaps I will sleep

If not, I will rest

Sunday, 4/16/23

Will I ever journal again?

I can't even write my 17 syllables per day.

That's okay, Carol. 

I watched a spider today

Magically float from ceiling to floor

I could not see her silk elevator

Dear God ~ help me accept

Help thou my unbelief

May I have peace. 

May I be.

Reading back through my scribbles

I am reminded

"Yes, you are writing."

Why do you not share

your Shorts?

Ahh...approval

It is a yoke of bondage

Saturday, 4/22/23

Ignatia, the saint, helped again

Could it be she will help

even while on acupuncture?

Lift me, my soul

Through the portal

Into spaciousness

Into possibilities

Monday, 4/24/23

Daughter and partner

Son and wife

I hold you tenderly in my heart

May you spread goodness

Embrace beauty

And shower its bounty

Flowers today

Colors galore

Leafy plants too

And trees

It was magic

The Psalmist panted for God.

I understand that longing.

Did he find peace?

Yes, I think he did.

Jesus was a Psalmist.

May peace abound. 

Tuesday, 4/25/23

[A poem from Shorts: Recall the lilies and the ponies...]

Wednesday, 4/26/23

I yawn widely

Sadly that is not evidence

That I will sleep

Quiviviq, Xanax, herbs

And now

I wait

Thursday, 4/27/23

64 today I am

Too tired to write

Received laser treatment #85 today

Happy Birthday

Saturday, 4/29/23

Carol, write your Shorts

with no audience

in mind

Steroids cause

premature aging.

I am 

living proof.

Why is an electrical

outlet

not called an electrical

inlet?

[A poem from Shorts: In Synch]

Ahh 

That felt good

to write

Sunday, 4/30/23

I began this journal

My writing of Shorts

To not pen them in shorthand

That changed within 3 months

Shorthand takes less effort

For my painful hands

"How are you?" she asked

My answer...

"Miserable to okay

depending on the hour and the day.

Today, I'm okay." 

But that conversation was last week

Today felt like 3 days

Going from miserable to not as miserable

The highlight?

Feeling the sunshine

Warm my skin and eyelids

Shorts: March 2023

 To read an introduction and access the Shorts index, click here: Shorts: Introduction

Dedicated to all who suffer in silence...

Which isn't silent at all...

The torment is a far scream from quiet...

You are heard...

      You are not alone...

     We are not alone...

Friday, 3/03/23

Body, I love you

Tonight you have new herbs

May each cell be happy

Saturday, 3/04/23

I can relate to Shaw

The madness

Yet still, she escaped

I can too 

Thursday, 3/09/23

Writing is difficult these days

Both physically and mentally 

So sing...

Woman

Sitting on bed

Awaiting plumber

Silence

High-pitch tone

I never recall not hearing it

What do I do next?

Wait for the plumber

Then invert, maybe

Sunday, 3/12/23

[A poem from Shorts: Is this acceptance?]

Saturday, 3/18/23

I screamed last night

Hard and loud 

Consumed by misability 

Sunday, 3/19/23

Breathe in Carol

And now, breathe out

Isn't that amazing?

Feel your fear and anxiety...

Is it a fear of response-ability?

A fear of how others perceive me?

If I double 28

that equals 56.

I do not have that many syllables

in me.

Sunday, 3/26/23

[A poem from Shorts: Rolling and dancing...]

Monday, 3/27/23

God, please bring me peace

Please bring me sleep

Please bring me rest

God, please bring all people peace

Please bring all people sleep

Please bring all people rest

So sad, tragic, horrific

These shootings in schools

These deaths

Little people and the elders

Thursday, 3/30/23

So tired, so weary

Is this all life is

No

I rode my bike Sunday

Two men clapped

And all the trees 

Were dancing

If it is to be

I shall ride outside tomorrow

On my bike, Midnight

Click here to view Shorts: April 2023

Shorts: February 2023

To read an introduction and access the Shorts index, click here: Shorts: Introduction

Dedicated to all who suffer in silence...

Which isn't silent at all...

The torment is a far scream from quiet...

You are heard...

      You are not alone...

      We are not alone...

Wednesday, 2/01/23

Undulating pain
Thru my forearms

Into my wrists and palms

Woman, upright in bed

Outstretched legs

Watches the flame dance

Friday, 2/03/23

What is sex?

How does it feel?

All I know are memories and fantasies

[A poem from shorts: Longing for "normal"...]

Saturday, 2/04/23

February has four syllables

Carol has two

Valentine, three

Gabapentin has four syllables

Marijuana has four

Sleep, one

Elbows and knees, forearms and upper

Wrists and hands, back and ankles

Palms and fingers, shins and soles

They all hurt

Will I ever know

pure joy

again?

I have drifted away

from people. It's okay Carol.

You still have a few.

Sunday, 2/05/23

[A poem from shorts: Longing for sleep...]

Monday, 2/06/23

So sad

Longing for affection

Ahh...desire equals

Suffering

Tuesday, 2/07/23

Sun shone brightly

In my sky today

Until the next bout of clouds

Less pain today

I enjoyed the reprieve

More please?

Opps! I wrote in shorthand

And I got messier

Why?

Thursday, 2/09/23

Tired

But I write my syllables

Anyway

Pain in back

and arms and legs

and hands and feet

That is all

Friday, 2/10/23

Pay Discover

Pay Visa

Terminix and Novant

Hubby stands to give the Practice

I soon will lay

To receive the Practice

Saturday, 2/11/23

I wait 'til night to write

when I am too tired 

to write

I wait 'til night to write

when it's too uncomfortable to write

adjusting all my pillow props

Sunday, 2/12/23

Solitude invites

conversation with

the elements

Called AOF Friday

Did not leave voicemail

AOF immediately responded in text

And shortly thereafter, called

We spoke an hourish

I feel the gap in our connection

[A poem from shorts: Longing for freedom...]

Wednesday, 2/15/23

Did not write my 

syllables

for two days

Drive to The Saddle

Pop the pills

Drink in the sunset

As I draw my last breath

The company of self-doubt

is not a visitor

I desire

Bask in possibilities

Flying on horses

Dancing on whalebacks

Lift me up

Take me away

Deep into imaginations

Thursday, 2/16/23

What does trust look like?

Sun. Breath. Body.

Kindness. Gentleness. Trust.

Friday, 2/17/23

I trust...

Thru pain, sadness, grief...

Thru flow, joy, wholeness...

Thru suffering...

Thru relief...

Honoring each...

I trust...

Sunday, 2/19/23

Writing my syllables

But not everyday

Living them though, everyday

[A poem from shorts: Longing for peace...]

Tuesday, 2/21/23

Weary

Pain

Weakness

Please Lord, may I sleep tonight

May my heart be turned

toward gratitude

Even while uncertainty roars

Sunday, 2/26/23

Rereading my previous words

Syllables, shorts

Briefs, like underwear

Ruminating, ruminating

May I be free from these

Revolving thoughts

Please, Dear God

I pray again for freedom

From this unforgiving pain

And weakness and fatigue

I feel too sloppy to write

Sloppy in my brain

Sloppy in my hands

Sloppy in my posture

Monday, 2/27/23

Son and Daughter-in-law

Above the clouds

In route to 

Little Down Under

[A poem from shorts: Longing for ocean...]

Click here to view Shorts: March 2023

In Synch

Visited the Yadkin River yesterday

Her waters were high

Rapid and muddy

I witnessed nature-flotsam

Trees, logs, branches, debris

Being swished along by unseen currents

One giant tree

Got caught sideways 

Under the bridge

Rapids rolled her round-and-round

As if a lumberjack was atop

Spinning her

Another giant got caught

Perpendicular 

With the giant roller

Moments later WHOOSH

Both set free! 

To continue their journey

Down the river

This same day one year ago

My veins would soon feed on heparin

Two "good-sized" blood clots had landed

One in each lung

Shorts: Introduction & Index

Due to additional ongoing health adversities since May 2022, journaling/writing, drawing/coloring slowly took a "back seat" in my life; not to mention an abundance of other activities. As far as personal writing, I have mainly charted symptoms and different modalities I experiment with to find what helps my symptoms and what doesn't; an arduous task. 

Beginning January 2023, I began journaling what I came to call "Shorts." The idea came from this article, Opinion: How 17 syllables a day can change your life by Tess Taylor. In the second paragraph Tess states: 

...I wanted to share a practice that’s been useful to me, as a writer: To write a haiku, or a loose haiku, every day. For me this habit began in a dark phase, when I realized I just wasn’t getting much creative time. I was feeling depleted....

Well, that pretty closely described me, and still does: depleted, dark phase, lack of creative energy [time].  So, I gave the "loose haiku" a whirl. I started out with 15 to 19 syllables which then evolved into anywhere between 10ish to 29ish syllables. The loose haiku got really loose. 

In the past month or so, I started calling them "Shorts." I could call them "Briefs," but they cover more than "Briefs." [I guess then, "Nudes" would look like this:               . (haha)]

My "Shorts" have become a type of simple journaling for me. But I can't write them every day. 

Last night I read many of them to Hubby. He said something like, "Wow. The suffering really comes through. But I witness the suffering every day, so to me they are very poignant. A lot of those are publish-worthy." 

I responded, "Does hope come through too? Glimpses of joy?"  He responded in the affirmative. 

So, I'm gonna publish some/most/all. Many (most?) are not cheerful. All are simple; one can't get too analytical in 10 to 29 syllables. Some come from inner visualizations, of which I have a-plenty. If I knew how and had the energy and inclination, I could maybe put together some decent and colorful animations from my visualizations. 

My plan is to post them in the order I wrote them and entitle them accordingly, ie: Shorts: January 2023 and continue chronologically. Time will tell if I stick with the plan. :)   

I write the shorts one at a time. But sometimes, they turn into multiverse poems. 

For now, I am posting some (but not all) of these "poems from shorts" separately, with a link to each within the stream of shorts for the month they were written. (Hmmm...that sentence needs some work, but hopefully it's understandable?) It's like some call to be given their separate space, and others don't.

Dedicated to all who suffer in silence...

Which isn't silent at all...

The torment is a far scream from quiet...

You are heard...

      You are not alone...

      We are not alone...

~~~~~~~

Links to Shorts:

January 2023

February 2023

March 2023

April 2023

May 2023, One (5/01-5/14)

May 2023, Two (5/15-5/20)

Poems from Shorts:

1/11/23: Deer significance

1/20/23: flickers and fan

2/03/23: Longing for "normal"...

2/05/23: Longing for sleep...

2/12/23: Longing for freedom...

2/19/23: Longing for peace...

2/27/23: Longing for ocean...

3/12/23: Is this acceptance?

3/26/23: Rolling and dancing...

4/04/23: Yellow Court

4/08/23: Instead...

4/25/23: Recall the lilies and the ponies...

4/29/23: In Synch

Shorts: January 2023

To read an introduction and access the Shorts index, click here: Shorts: Introduction

Dedicated to all who suffer in silence...

Which isn't silent at all...

The torment is a far scream from quiet...

You are heard...

      You are not alone...

      We are not alone...

Sunday, 1/01/23

Tears here, cheeks damp

Suffering, relief, resonance

I am not alone

trees reach out with naked limbs

speaking to the sky

and to whomever will listen

insane insomnia

innate intelligence, my body

she knows how to heal

Monday, 1/02/23

I took his last name

So glad that I did

Husband, provider, hero

Contemplating: Do I swallow

Something to help with 

Sleep? Yes or No?

I feel the nothingness

So feel it fully

Where else does nothing exists

Tuesday, 1/03/23

I just thought of a 

haiku, something about

sleep, and now I forget

Wednesday, 1/04/23

Breathe in, breathe out, let go

Headlamp provides light

So that I can write

No shorthand

Carol have great compassion

for youself

and for Andres

Thursday, 1/05/23

Fabio, beauty and grit

Horses sleep standing up

Sleep will come, be at peace

Friday, 1/06/23

And then I tell myself

Carol, you have nerve damage

And chronic insomnia

And a prednisone 'addiction'

which you are 

coming off of

Not to mention pulmonary embolisms 

last year

and anxiety and depression

Headlamp shines on page

Lines straight and loopy, neat and messy

Breathe now -- in, out

Sunday, 1/08/23

[A poem from (kind-of) Shorts: A long time...]

Tonight I will sleep restfully

Yea, I will lie down

My sleep shall be sweet

Tuesday, 1/10/23

I want to write haiku

but too tired from my work of

bathing and moving my body

That's 21 syllables

But I wrote  

Wednesday, 1/11/23

[A poem from shorts: Deer Significance]

What do I do next?

Carol, bask in all your body

has accomplished, thus far.

Bask in its continued ability

to the best of its capacity

to heal itself

Thursday, 1/12/23

I ventured to

the post office today

It was a surreal experience

I love you Body

You have serviced me so well

And will contine

Until its time to stop

How many times have I

told my story to these walls?

One thousand? Ten thousand?

Friday, 1/13/23

Thirty-five years ago tonight

I was in the hospital

The next day, I birthed new life

Saturday, 1/14/23

The sun came out today

And the cold wind blew

And they kissed my face

Monday, 1/16/23

Wearied Body, Pain Shoots

Scrambled Brain, Thoughts Gobbly-gook

All in a day's work

Tuesday, 1/17/23

People pass before my eyes

And other creatures too

To each, I send love

Gratitude brushes my cheeks

As the other

Smiles back at me too

Wednesday, 1/28/23

I love the days

when I'm in the flow

All that is needed

I will know

Empty coffee pot

Sits on table

Awaiting liquid

Friday, 1/20/23

[A poem from shorts: flickers and fan]

Sunday, 1/22/23

What of today?

It came. It went.

Tomorrow will do the same.

I pray to God

Please bring me healing, relief

Teach me how, Oh Lord

Feldenkrais

The name has the same magic to me as

Shackleton

Monday, 1/23/23

Pill bottles so many

100s & 100s, 1000s & 1000s

Of pills

Comfy bed

Supportive pillows

Sweet Unicorn

What else is needed?

Tuesday, 1/24/23

I know not what to write

So I draw letters on the page

Anyway

Wednesday, 1/25/23

Imagine a day

Free of pain

And don't stop imagining

Thru the water within the ocean

Symbiosis

And the moon plays too

Thursday, 1/26/23

My reflection in the picture

on the wall

sunset, quiet seas

Sunday, 1/29/23

Carol, scrolling your phone

will not  help you 

feel connected.

So, back away. 

I can't keep up

With all the tasks I think

I need to do

So stop

Yes stop

The cream rises to the top

And that is the most needful

O dear Body

I love every cell of You

Thru and thru

Rest, rest

Monday, 1/30/23

How did life become 

so complicated?

Possessions. Possessions. Possessions. 

I cannot control the future

I cannot change the past

I can breathe

In, out

I can no longer breathe

underwater 

Since emerging

from the womb

Click here to view Shorts: February 2023

Recall the lilies and the ponies...

This anxiety

A feeling I will not have energy

To accomplish the tasks

Which I perceive as needful

Let go, let be

Recall the lilies of the field

And the ponies of the mountain

God, I'm sorry 

I was psychotic 

tonight

I breathe in the suffering

of all

in like condition

I breathe out lovingkindness

to all

who suffer

If it be Your will

May I sleep tonight

May I surrender

May I somehow

turn this suffering

into gold

Along RR Grade Road, 2020

Pony and Foal, Grayson Highlands, 2017

Instead...

Instead of rehearsing Her words

think of goodness, of light

of all I have to be thankful for

Such as rain, sun, trees

John, Sarah, Josh

My Parents, Kate

Todd, Michele, Clark, Julie

Dorothy, Larry

April, Susan, Denise, Norm

Jeff, Abby, Herb

Tom2, Katelin, Robyn

Ted, Becky, Loved Ones

The locksmith

who was 

an angel

Don't let one person's judgement

steal my joy

and negate the serendipities in my life

all that goodness 

Yellow Court

Today from my Yellow Court

A smokey cloud emerged

Though it wasn't smoke

It was dark-gray

Pain, decades old

Held by a cord

Then

Golden scissors 

Cut the cord

And the cloud ascended

A deep golden-yellow

Shone upon it

"I don't want to be forgotten

I don't want to be abandoned"

Said the trembling dark-gray cloud

"We aren't abandoning you"

Replied the golden-glow

"We are setting you free"

Light of golden-yellow

Warm like the sun

Gently penetrated

And shone inside the cloud

The light soothed the cloud

For the cloud had been hiding

A long time in darkness

And now the cloud was free!

The darkness turned to light!

Gentle rain fell from the cloud

Drops like tears

Tears of acceptance, of transformation

Purified

The Insiders danced for joy!

Pog and It and I witnessed

We smiled and felt 

YES! 

Rolling and dancing...

Tears of joy today

I rode my bike outside

12.14 miles

A passer-by greeted me,

"How are you today?"

"Good, good," I replied

As I slowly pedaled by

In the next moment 

My giant smile turned to shock

I said "Good" (!!!)

"Good" had just happily rolled out

It was real

It was spontaneous

And it felt...good

Two men clapped for me

All the trees were dancing

Tree and I hugged after my ride

While I danced to Michael Franti

Is this acceptance?

 

This morning I thought

This morning I felt

The disease has won

Then I felt

I need to make my self

my body, my mind comfortable

I did not think it; I felt it

And later I figured out

Behind what I felt

That is

I cannot keep up this pace

I can't keep going on like this

Is this acceptance?

I thought I had already

accepted

Acceptance must come 

in layers

Like grief, like onions

I'm not giving up

But I am going to make myself

as comfortable as possible

Even if that means more steroids

But I'm not going back

all the way

Because I will end up back here

I think I know what it feels like

To be an addict, of sorts

Longing for ocean...

Sound of ocean waves
Transmits through my little speaker
In its little box

Will I ever again

Feel the ocean with my toes

With my feet, my ankles

Shins and calves?

Yes

You will again feel

the lapping

and its wind upon you face

Uncertainty

Uncertainty

Weather is uncertain

But it is reliable

Reliable to change

It does follow patterns

Yet, I do not live in fear

Of the weather

But I am, to the best of my ability

Prepared for the elements

Weather is energy on display

What happens in the macro

Happens in the micro

How far does that analogy go?

How deep is its reality?

Am I prepared for the storm inside me?

*pause*

Wow...

My responses...

Too many to write...

Here's a few...

Anxiety

Tenseness all through my limbs

"Am I prepared?"

Doctor faces flash through my head.

Prednisone tablets. Steroid injections. 

Gabapentin. Hydrocodone. Xanax.

My backups. 

"Yes. 

I am prepared as I can be."

I realize I'm tense.

I consciously relax.

I recognize that even when one is prepared

for severe weather, the weather can still bring

calamity and death.

Meditations. Herbs. Lights.

Sunshine. Nature. Now.

Food. Shelter. Mobility.

Good mechanic. Music.

Family who understands. 

Husband who lovingly cares for me 

and excellently provides. 

"Yes.

I am prepared as I can be."

Heart calms.

Yet I'm still on guard. 

May I release the guard

Like the wild guard dog

Let go 

Lie down

The threat, or perceived threat, is gone

Let go

Lay it down

Be free

Longing for peace...

To have a body fluid

To have a soul flow

Yet, only in my imagination

What have I to offer?

Thought. Prayer. Fantasy.

Wishing for all suffering everywhere

To cease

Dear Peace

May I fill your presence

Or should I say "Dear God"

I used to

Yes...

Dear God, Father, Dad

Hold me

Heal me

Why do you not heal me?

But please, please

Hold my heart

Bring me comfort

And peace, peace...

Longing for freedom...

Yes pain, yes inflammation

I feel you undulate 

Thru my limbs

I do not deny you are 

With me

But I ask of you

To free me please

Longing for sleep...

 

The earth rotates

The sun spins

The universe whirls

Full moon illuminates

Guides the tide in and out

Calls us into dreams

My heart beckons the call

As I drift into another plane

Until I drift back out

Longing for "normal"...

I used to journal a lot

And write

Painting pictures with words

Now I mostly write

to record medical observations

Medical observations?

Symptoms, patterns 

Responses to a treatment applied

My life is an experiment

A joy unspeakable...

While we and our loved ones still draw breath, may we remember to let them know how cherished they are.

From a 31-year-old son to his 63-year-old mom...

A text message on May 6, 2022, from Dillingham, AK, to Somewhere, NC...

Shared with permission...

~*~*~

5/06/22

I don’t have any profound words of wisdom or divine revelations. I just know that as your loving son I am compelled to share my love and support with you, Mother.

I’m not sure you realize the joy and passion for life that you have imparted to me. Two nights ago, I drank entirely too much vodka with my friends and stumbled home through the rain to my office. I proceeded to turn on my Bluetooth speaker as loudly as possible and dance my heart out for the better part of an hour. Looking back on that moment, I realize that was your spirit pumping through my veins and expressing itself through my pair of left feet.

It is your spirit that propelled me to the Himalayas, the arctic, and to the far reaches of and into civilization.

It’s your spirit that leads me through the rigors of the intellectual exercises that lend me the peace of knowing what I know, and knowing what I don’t know.

It is your spirit that leads me to tears at the witnessing of the simplest beauties in life and in word.

I know you have suffered far beyond what one ought in this life. That fact breaks my heart. But know that your life and spirit has led to manifold joys whose impacts are still becoming known. Your love and your zest for life will carry on far beyond the length of your life or mine. And only God knows how wide the impact will be.

Know that your joy, your sadness, your triumphs, and your failures have meaning. Not only now, but throughout time. You are loved. You are known. You are my mother. From ear candles to hikes, to uncomfortable political discussions. You are my one and only Mother.

May God bless you.

With all the love a son can muster,

-Son

~*~*~

Son and I had spoken via phone, late afternoon, May 5th.

He asked how I was doing.

(I had been released from the hospital on May 1st after an unexpected 3-night stay for two good-sized blood clots, one in each lung.)

I responded "I'm doing okay. But I think I'm going to cry."

He responded, "It's alright Mom and completely understandable."

The next morning, I awoke to the text message shared above...

Tears rolled...

Feelings of gratitude, humility, that I'd done something right in my life, joy, and so much more....

flickers and fans

candle flame gently flickers

reflects itself in mirror

two flames dance

fan blades rhythmically spin

casting shadows

on the ceiling

flickers and fans

gently calling me

into dream