September 3rd, 2009

calder mobile miniature

Checking in -

The news of late seems more and more sobering and I am hearing from more and more people who are finding less and less energy to check in on it. I think Jon Carroll's column today and yesterday deals with an important subject, how we value life.

Also, this is going around Facebook and people are being ask to post it, if they support it, so I place it there and here.

No one should die because they cannot afford health care, and no one should go broke because they get sick. If you agree, please post this as your status for the rest of the day.

Life is very busy right now. Also, I seem to be involved in a continuing alchemical process as I try to navigate this bringing forth a book to paper. I had no idea what would be involved. I am having tree work done today so am writing to the sound of the chainsaw and chipper. These trees today accept their fate. We, the trees, and I, are prepared, and I think it is important to remember that paper comes from a living thing, a creature with roots below and branches stroking the sky. We honor life and we need also to remember that paper comes from trees. I want to make sure that I what I write is worthy of that sacrifice.

I revisit this quote of Jung's quite often, as, for me, finding the right balance of living inside and outside, is a constant challenge. We each need to connect to our own source, while understanding that each of us has their own source as well as perceptions, expectation and constraints. It is an environment both fluid and solid we share.

Carl Jung:

Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes.

I am struggling to believe it is September. The projects I had planned to complete in August are dragging along. I am trying to stay calm with that, with the merging of my time-frame and the time-frame of others. I keep trying to come back to myself and what is possible and what really matters. If I were lifted up this moment, transformed to another way of being, what would I want my inner state to be, and with that, I open, let go, and allow mouth, cells, joints, knees, ankles, and eyes, to smile. As Jon Carroll says, many of us agree that life is precious. May I honor all these precious moments of mine and yours, inside and out.

I am grateful to be here and to have the capacity to love and work, the two main things we need. May I allow myself time to look inside and honor and beckon my being to stretch and wake and look outside and see you, also stretched and awake with awe at all we share.

The moon is nearly full.

Monthly, I refresh on these words.

Full moon, where will you be going from here?

Into a retreat.

Why do you take a retreat after fullness?

To make myself an empty vessel in order to be filled again.

-- Hazrat Inayat Khan
Alan - yellow hibiscus

Chemo Brain -

There are many kinds of chemotherapy and this man's method of reception was different than mine, but I find this article fascinating on the subject of chemo brain.

People, who have been through chemo, as he says, do know there is something magical about it, something shared that is hard to articulate. I thought of it as presence, an opportunity to be present and enchanted with every moment of life. He uses the word focus. I wondered if when one only has the energy for living that everything else pales in comparison. You feel so alive, even, yes, as you sometimes feel really miserable. I still have the odd thing with the nerve endings in my toes though my last chemo treatment was over three years ago. I keep thinking one day it will go away or not. It is a little reminder, a little note to remember to appreciate the moments of life, and yet, I do get angry and impatient. I am judgmental and hasty and dismissive at times. I don't watch every sunrise and sunset. I also know that, in my case, some of the fuzziness has remained. I am not able to think as I was before and perhaps that, too, is a good thing. I love the work of Monet.

oregon, willamette, 1 proxy falls

Clearing -

We had five trees removed in these last few days and enough trees remain that no difference can really be seen.  My tree cutting friend came to me a little concerned,  I think,  fearing I would wonder why it looks the same.  I guess he no longer hears the chainsaws.  I know he did the work.  I know what is missing and I am pleased to see the way the light curves a little differently and there is a little more space and yes, part of this relates to the fire danger.  He explained to me that it is the low stuff that is the problem.  The trees that remain have branches only above twelve feet.  We, who live here, and other places, too, pray each fall, to make it through another fire season, intact. May this be so!