From my Notes app...

I recently found the entries below as I was clearing out my Notes app.

For a little context...

When I received my 37th lumbar epidural in January 2022, I told my neurologist, 
"The epidurals don't seem to be working as well."

He replied, "Well, that's not good."

I asked, "What will we do if they stop working?"

There was a pause, and then he responded, "I don't know. But we're not going to think about that right now."

I received my 38th epidural in mid-April 2022. 

Unknown to me or my neurologist at the time, it would be last.

On April 28, 2022, I landed in the hospital for 3-1/2 days with two good-sized blood clots, one in each lung.

The last note below was written on 4/27/22. 

Forutnately (though sometimes I wonder), I lived to see another birthday...

And then another, and another, and another...

~*~*~

2/15/22

My cerebral juice is fluid & nourishing

My nerve roots are open & receiving  

My peripheral nerves are conducting & regenerating 

My nervous system is happy & content, strong & intelligent

Turtle power

~*~*~

3/21/22

Why am I here?

    Because everything else is.

No, I mean the purpose.

    That is the purpose, to learn about your kin.

My family?

    Yes, the moon, stars...mammals. 

~*~*~

4/11/22 

Balance doesn't mean all points are even

I balance on my bicycle 

Riding the terrain

Ups & downs, smooths & ridges, rocks & gravel

Dirt, holes, crevices 

I ride it all balancing on my bicycle 

Like a ship balancing on the waters 

Smooth, rough, calm, windy 

The captain navigates

~*~*~

4/27/22

Earlier today, I thought:

Oh, I want to get new shoes with my birthday discount. 

But I don't have that kind of energy right now. 

I'll have another birthday next year...

And if I don't, I won't need any shoes.

Pulsing with life...

Evolution of embodiment...

Of thoughts into words...

Of images into realities...

~*~*~

A Sunday in January...

Despondent

Feelings of no value

What is the point

Of continuing this merciless trudge

Body crippled

Brain staticky

Muscles weak

Energy on zero

But enough energy 

To feel pain

To feel emptiness

To feel alone

~*~*~

Two days later, on Tuesday...

An isolation that feels thick-empty

Not an empty-empty

But rather, an emptiness 

That is full

My body fully feels it 

This utter aloneness

Without any other evident life

That is, "life" how we define it

But these floors

These windows

These walls

They are my companions

And when I think of all 

They have witnessed 

Of their inside dwellers

Then, they pulse with life

~*~*~

Eight days later, on a Wednesday...

And their ancestry

From which they came 

To now be here

It too lives on

These 60-year-old wood floors

Once trees, that stood tall in a forest

Giving oxygen and nourishment

Now, support me

These 60-year-old glass windows

Once sand, upon the earth

Home to insects and turtles

Now, allow me light 

These 60-year-old Sheetrock walls

Once gypsum, formed from seabed and volcanoes

Providing sustenance and structure, even on Mars

Now, provide me protection and comfort

Through the cold season, with its short days

These are my companions

Come the warmth and longer days

I will again venture out to commune with their progeny

Analog discs...

Subway, Styers Ferry Road

Suppertime

Salad with garlic dressing and turkey

The only customer

I sit in a booth

Facing the prep counter

Only one employee

We are together alone

In this small space

Cup of water and two cookies

White chocolate macadamia

And raspberry cheesecake

Through the speakers

Rock and contemporary music

99.5 FM 

One thing I like about local radio

The DJs are live

As they click the next play

Used to be

DJs would spin

Vinyl 45s, grooved discs

I wonder what time it is

I did not bring my cell phone

And I don't carry a watch

There is a clock on the wall

Analog, round with a face and three hands

But the hands' revolutions have stopped 

I walk over to eye a closer look

2:35 and 37 seconds

I wonder if it stopped in AM or PM

Descend and rise...

I am thankful for my husband and children and granddaughter, my few close friends, my trusted medical and wellness team, and Earth's wildlife and non-human creatures who have continually come to my aide through the decades...

~*~

I turn the knob of the tub faucet so water flows...

Water is a big part of the couple exit-life plans I've come up with...

Water will finish the deed so that no breath is left...

I turn the knob with feelings of utter worthlessness, shame, no value...

Of no light at the end of this dark, endless tunnel...

Feeling so alone and that I am only a burden to my family and beyond...

The pills, over 40 per day...

Just one unrelenting circumstance that I navigate...

But it won't take 40 for this deed...

I turn the knob of the tub faucet so water flows...

And a thought clearly emerges...

If Hawk is here, I'll not do it...

I turn off the knob and the flow ceases...

I walk to the bathroom window...

I peer into our big backyard...

There, regal and faithful...

Hawk, my companion...

I call Hubby...

~*~

The above happened on 12/11/2025...

Today is 12/16/2025...

I am still breathing...

~*~

Related post: Everydayness...

~*~

Not finished yet...

Cascades of color circulate...

How can a "cascade" circulate?

Cascades fall; they don't circle...

Or do they?

The curve of the rainbow...

The moon's multi-colored halo...

Both form as light reflects into the vapors...

Prism hues appear, then dissipate

Do vapors cascade?

Do vapors float?

Do vapors circulate?

Yes. Yes. Yes.

Energy flows through my physical body...

Cells, neurotransmitters, breath, blood...

Inside us each, cascades of color...

Listen. Sense. Feel.

~*~

"Do you feel complete?" she asks.

"Hmm, 'complete.' I wonder of its etymology," I respond.

"I don't know if I feel complete..." I continue.

As I think about it later, I realize...

Ah, I think "wholeness'" resonates more with me...

I do feel wholeness...

"Complete" beings to mind something that is "finished..."

And I'm not finished yet...

~*~

"Behold!"

Carol, just write...

How do you feel?

I feel brain rot...

Again...

Like there is a lack of substance in my gray matter.

Why? How? 

What can I do about it?

I've spent too much time this week with the machine.

The little palm-sized digital screen.

I scroll.

Political news, cultural news, nature news.

Opinions, opinions, opinions.

But I seldom engage.

I know why I get sucked in.

I spend most my days alone. 

Inside my brick-and-mortar dwelling.

I can't get out like I once did.

My body and brain are fatigued.

Pain is a daily companion.

Along with cognitive static. 

But Carol, you got out this past Thursday.

You visited your beloved Mountains.

You witnessed Nature's majesty. 

Her messages, Her breezes.

You communed with trees and rocks.

And you talked with other Humans.

From Florida, Ohio, Massachusetts, North Carolina.

And you hiked that short quarter-mile section of Tanawha Trail.

At the Rough Ridge Overlook on the Blue Ridge Parkway near Grandfather Mountain.

You weighed the risks and went for it.

You were amazed you were able to do it.

To hike the half-mile round trip with its belly-sized rocks.

It was hard.

It was technical.

But you did it, Carol.

You did it!

Though I wasn't rock climbing...

I had to hike it with a rock climber's precision.

Trusting my Vibram-soled hiking shoes.

Placing my feet strategically, checking for any slick spots on the rocks.

Trusting my trekking poles.

Checking the stability of the ground to make sure it wasn't soft peat. 

Weight-bearing trekking poles push through peat.

A recipe for a fall.

Yes, you long to hike the entire 13.5-mile trail.

But you didn't discover this trail.

Until after the poisoning.

Until after the injury.

Until after the disability.

Accept, accept, accept...

Adapt, adapt, adapt...

Like premature aging...

It goes on and on and on...

Until, one day, it will be done.

Grieve the losses...

Embrace the memories...

Recall the many, oh-so-many, stories...

Feel gratitude for what you still can do...

Be open for what might be possible.

Grief and gratitude...

Each is a necessity...

But I refuse anymore to gloss over the grief.

I wonder, How long I will heed that refusal?

And you walked the short, level trail from Yonahlossee Overlook. 

A pleasant walk that parallels the Blue Ridge Parkway.

And leads to the underside of Linn Cove Viaduct. 

And there, in the distance...

A gigantic, white, fluffy cloud standing above the mile-high mountain tops...

Like a giant, friendly ghost with a long, flowing white robe... 

His right hand extending out over the mountain peaks...

Heralding, "Behold!" 

And that I did...

And I wondered...

Is Benton Mckay in that cloud?

Grandma Gatewood, and Hugh Morton?

Dad, and my friends Joy and Susan?

And others who have loved these mountains...

Who have passed from this physical life.

Do I believe the dead are alive?

I'm open to the idea.

If so, do the living-dead speak to us in signs and dreams?

Whether or not it is so... 

Messages still come through...

If we listen, if we look...

If we take the time to see.

One thing for sure...

These mountains... 

They live on and on and on and on...

In Cherokee Tanawha means Fabulous Hawk or Eagle.

Yonahlossee means Trail of the Bear.

"Behold!"

Held: A prayer...

May I tap into flow

May I float weightlessly

May I drift slowly

images

sounds

scents

Possibilities

no clocks

no dings

no rings

Only the breeze upon my nakedness

May I trust
May I rest

May I...

I am surrounded by Beauty

She pumps life though my cells

Like a bubbling spring Who brings life to all She touches

Feel the object that holds you at this moment

That cradles you

That keeps you from falling

May I trust

May I rest

May I...

~*~*~

Related post: Held in the deep...

"Until Then"

The following poem "Until Then" is a repost from 2007...

Watching Whitley sing now, in 2025...

Still causes tears to roll...

I no longer claim to be a Christian "believer"...

But I still hold a tender spot in my heart...

For the possibility of a benevolent, compassionate, all-knowing Being...

That most people refer to as God...

And many Christians refer to as Jesus...

My current beliefs about this possibility are not rigid...

If I have to label myself currently, it'd be...

Agnostic Chrisitan Universalist...

To this label Son replied with a chuckle...

"You got all the bases covered, Mom..."

I chuckled with him...

Maybe Jesus chuckled too...

~*~*~

 "Until Then"

(Written 06/05/07)

Pristine notes, words of praise

Age-old hymns bestow God's light
The dark-skinned man bellows deep
Sings with all his might

Causing my heart to swell

He sings of endurance
He sings of joy
He sings of pain in the temporal now
He sings of everlasting streets of gold

Causing my tears to roll

Well, is it true O God my Lord?
Will there someday be
This home of peace, of bliss, of joy
A place of forever harmony?

Causing my soul to cry fervently

Surely 'tis true that all shall see
Face to face and eye to eye
Surely 'tis true there'll be a time
All wrongs to be made right

Causing my spirit to yearn

Until that day, O God, I pray
Allow my heart to stay tender
My eyes to see beyond hostility
And never evil for evil to render

Your boundless love, God of Life,
Causing my breast to hope eternal

june 5, 2007
judithpiper

~*~*
In May 2007, my husband and I watched a televised presentation of the dedication of the Billy Graham Library in Charlotte, North Carolina, USA.  Wintley Phipps sang the hymn Until Then with so much joy and life and exuberance; it was thrilling to watch.

At the time I was deeply struggling with my own beliefs as far as God, the Bible, Jesus Christ, who I was, my marriage...just a lot of things. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I embraced the words coming from what I felt/feel to be a man with a giant heart of grace and love.

Regardless of one's spiritual beliefs, songs like this which bring relief and hope and joy to the soul, can help us each to continue to strive for a better day...now and in the future.

Until Then was a favorite of mine while in The Way.  I recall when Rev. Cummins used to sing it at certain occasions.

Wintley Phipps singing Until Then...

 

"Furr..."

Today, Magic happened...

I became one with Wolf

Exhilaration, freedom, fully-sensed

Running unencumbered through the wild

Pausing as my instincts direct

I smell the deep, dark, pine forest 

I howl in primal connection

Aware but not afraid

I was created for this romp

These woods, wild

These woods, raw

These woods, real

These woods, home

Following a trail, blazing a trail

I live, I thrive in these elements

Purpose, navigation, sacred connection

Heeding the call to which I was born

Today, Magic happened...

~*~

The title of my poem (but not the stanzas) is borrowed from Blitzen Trapper's song,

Furr...

~*~

Link: 14 Spiritual Meanings of Wolf: Divine Significance

Link: The '06 Female (aka 832F): She did it all...

Link: Painting by Jackie Morris 

Too much...

I am a limited being

So is every other temporary life form

Animal, plant, rock, stellar, and cellular

To acknowledge these limits is vital for protection

To question limitations is vital for growth

Can I develop abilities beyond my obvious limitations?

Stability on one hand and change on the other

Too much stability can yield stagnation

Too much change can result in chaos

Remember To Look Up...

 Cult / Anti-cult...

The topic arises again for me...

With the current political landscape, it's always around...

Sometimes up close and personal...

Sometimes in the distance...

I can be standing in a clear calm

Yet away off in the horizon I see a storm

The storm never reaches me

I simply witness it from afar

And when the sun shines afterward

A rainbow

Will the same happen in the nation where I live?

Will we see a rainbow?

Will it appear to everyone?

It could.... 

But one has to be looking up... 

To catch the majestic display...

~*~

Prompted by a couple essays I received via email in the last few days.

~*~

Big Iron Vat

A scripture asks...

Can a leopard change his spots?

Can an Ethiopian change his skin?

Two rhetorical questions

But can a sociopath change?

Can the abuser change?

Can a narcissist change?

Can the abused change?

I believe that yes, we can

But it isn't easy 

It's like cleaning a giant vat

Filled with molded stew

Broken hearts

Broken souls

Broken bodies

Decades of collection

The stew is toxic

The mold can kill

Do I wear goggles and a mask?

What about a hazmat suit?

Once shielded from toxic vapors

Light a fire under the vat

Hot enough to simmer the

Contents 

Stir and mindfully extract what I can

Pausing to honor each broken piece

That floats in the simmering

Collection

Once the stew has boiled down

Fire and iron having cooled

Climb inside and scrub

Mindful of that which once was

Despite the hazmat suit

Take in a deep breath

Climb out and sanitize the vat 

Preferably with sunlight

Once sanitized

Discard the protective garments

Breathe in fresh scents

Feel the warmth

Bow my head and honor what was

Knowing this is an ongoing project

Visit it regularly to

Acknowledge and let go

Before losses pile up 

Before the toxic mold sets in

Acknowledge the expansiveness of life

No longer confined to a vat 

Fumbling words... (2017)

I feel I offended you
I struggle with this often --

this feeling that I offend others

I want you to know that I care
But in trying to relay that

without directly telling you

I fumble and my words come

out too bluntly

Often, I cannot retrieve from

my brain the proper words

I'd probably be better off to

say nothing

2/22/2017

~*~

I regularly revisit posts I've written in the past, prompted by viewing my stats and discovering the posts which visitors to my blog have read. That said, the visitors may be bots or something other than human eyes. 

In December 2024, I ran across this poem (that I'd penned in 2017) while viewing one of those posts on my tossandripple blog. 

I do not recall whom it was that I felt I had offended.  

But the poem is still relevant today.

~*~

 

Dark Days in December

Tears of grief

I wail

I spit upon broken promises, past and future

Alone

Worn out from the game

Enraged at it all

But more so at myself

Alone

Day after day after day

Month after month after month

No end in sight

Alone

So, I quit

No more will I apply the band aids

No more will I try "the next thing"

Alone 

I awake the following day

A shield encases my heart

Now into its death

Alone

I later rouse my body 

To clothe itself, layer upon layer

Laborious labor to keep warm in the elements

Alone

I must gas up Sir Edward 

For my appointment tomorrow

Maybe the outing will help me

Alone

As I drive the back route out of Rolling Hills

I witness, right next to the street in a yard

Eight sacred black vultures

And a dead raccoon 

Once again, nature speaks to me

These sacred winged creatures have come 

To feed upon the carrion

Within my broken, deadened heart

For a moment

I feel seen

No longer 

Alone

Lost and found... (2007)

~*~*~

I've recently run across some old poems... 

Adding some of them to my online anthology...

~*~*~

Lost...

lost

in a kaleidoscope of

hues

wandering through

ever changing

tunes

---------------

lost

foggy night

in the crossroads

no white line

---------------

lost

my pen

scribbling doodles

searching for words

to describe nothingness

---------------

lost

my cane

abandoned to some corner

holding up two walls

~*~*~

And found...

found

my heart

in a kaleidoscope

of memories

once bound

in crystal tears

---------------

found

unfilled void

gaping for sustenance

abandoned to

the inkwell

---------------

found

the cookie jar

once filled with sweets

now emptied

left with only crumbs

~*~*~

Reaching...

 How are you, my Love?

Tired, so very tired

To think creatively, I desire

It once was easier

Or was it?

What have you seen recently?

Red -- Rose blossoming from Fertility

Orange -- comforting Hue gently sits on the southern dark Horizon where Beach meets Ocean; Elephant and Tiger accompany me upon the Sand while Whale swims along in shallow Waters

Yellow -- bright Sunrise springing from Darkness while my star-friend Martin sits with Pog in the Yellow Court
Green -- four-leaf Clover arising from Sunrise reaches upward into Sky
Blue -- wide-open Vistas inviting Creatures out to play
Indigo -- small, feathery Plumes display their beauty upon thorny Pods

White -- Clouds shifting shapes while dancing across the Heavens

How do you feel now, my Love?

A little more at peace

Even in my fatigued state

These images remind me that

I am connected 

~*~

These images arose as I delved into a guided-meditation course using Solfeggio frequencies and colors, each as they relate to their corresponding chakra. (In this course, the crown chakra is represented with the color white.)

Now and Then (2009)

~*~

I've recently run across some old poems... 

Adding some of them to my online anthology...

 ~*~

What is it that I seek

Peering past, o'er my shoulder

If only I had rear eyes

My neck would get some rest

Why not stop?

About face, look forward

Vista wide

Neck relaxes

Until I strain too hard

Failures, losses

Successes, gains

Some past, others future

This moment

The only guarantee

Time in a bottle

Moments in pictures

Dreams await in visions

This moment

A time to sow

~*~

january 29, 2009

Feel Me (2007)

  ~*~

I've recently run across some old poems... 

Adding some of them to my online anthology...

 ~*~

Turn off this static

that fills my mind.

Flee to the woods

this soul of mine.

Arms outstretched.

Face to the sun.

Fill my senses with wonderment!

Fill my lungs with life!

Fill my heart with freedom!

let me taste the prism hues

let me dance upon the rainbow

let me touch the sky

Fill me!

Feel me....

Let me know I am

ALIVE.

january 2007

~*~

August 11, 2024

As I'm rereading these poems from decades past, I read about a woman in distress. And, in 2007, I'd say that was true. (There've been other years of distress too.) I felt I was battling for my mind, maybe? January 2007 was when I began to experience and see that the anti-cult movement could be just as cultish as the cult. I received a big dose of this understanding in the subsequent years. 

I also began to see that "cult" behavior is human behavior but taken to an extreme. 

A blog post from 2018: "Cult behavior is human behavior..."

Toxic (2007)

 ~*~

I've recently run across some old poems... 

Adding some of them to my online anthology...

 ~*~

I feel entrapped

Wearied I am

Yet nothing I've done to be weary

Snap these invisible bonds!

Catapult self-righteous demands

to the farthest breadth.

I desire

rest

verve

depth

But all I hear are these jumbling torrents

Venomous words run through my head

"STOP IT!"

I cry to no avail

Emotional masochist that I am

This insanity within...

Do others know it too?

Let me run naked through the woods

Live among the wild beasts

O survival!!!

To live by instinct

I am too cush in my middle-class life

Bound by society's standards

Does it not make brute beasts of us all?

january 2007

Transition (2007)

~*~

I've recently run across some old poems... 

Adding some of them to my online anthology...

 ~*~

Dare I enter?
Do I dare?

I tiptoe face forward
backward in time
to take a peek,
or a full view.

....breathe.....

I stroll
into my past.
Labor to touch
innocence
sublime.

A peek?
No.
A full view,
yet only a part
of what I lost:
Innocence
Heart

May I touch you?
Gentle I will be.
What I once knew?
Will you teach me?

May I embrace you?
Will you embrace me?
May I carry you
Forward with me?

.....breathe.....

I turn, I walk
into the now.
Abandon not
this presence of innocence,
the why
the how.

Dare I enter?
Do I dare?

january, 2007

Feel the fear and do it anyway.