I also debated Bubba's in San Anselmo over the Station House, knowing that Bubba's needs business since the December storms. The stores in San Anselmo smell like mildew. They can't get the smell out. I bought Easter candy in the chocolate store despite the smell, and drank coffee at Debbie Does Dessert despite the smell. I choose sometimes by where it seems most important to support and none of these places are sacrifices. They all are wonderful, and so then, how does one choose. We are choosing all the time. Each thought is a creation, a gift we offer to the universe, like a bird held lightly on our fingertips. Bubba's is there for me this next week, and I hope the Station House makes it until the tourists come again. I see the rain has affected their business. Also, the change in ownership has not helped. Sitting there yesterday, I felt I could consult on what they are now doing wrong. A business needs attention, constant attention. It truly is a labor of love. I see it with Steve's business. He is never away from it. He loves it. He is always there for it, like a fully lived life.
So, I now know that Alice Hoffman is a cancer survivor, and this morning I sit with what that means to me. Why have I been so irritated by these words, "cancer survivor," and I think I thought it was because I thought to survive you had to do something, and now I feel it is not that at all. All I did was show up. I went to appointments and I made decisions. I did do that.
I hear the families talk as they gather in the waiting rooms together. Actually tears come to my eyes now at one this week. The man is proud of having been a hippie all his life. His hair is long and gray and gathered in a pony tail. He is with a man and a woman, friends or relatives would be my guess. The woman is so matter-of-fact I can't believe she is wife or girlfriend. He is trying to decide whether to do chemo. He is trying to decide whether to give his pony tail to Locks for Love. Will anyone want his straggly gray pony tail? The woman tells him he will lose all of his hair, not just his ponytail. He seems unable to grasp any of it. They go upstairs for their appointment. I wonder how it will affect him, the loss of his hair. I had thought it would be harder for women, but, perhaps, it is equally hard for a man of the 60's where hair made such a powerful statement, and often divided families like a war.
Steve has been in NY and I could tell that when I told him I finished the puzzle and got to choose the next one that he did not understand how something so small could seem important, how this was something tangible. I sneered at the puzzle table when I first saw it, at the attempts to entertain us, but yesterday I saw it as a gauge. I can discern again, and that feels important to me. I like the other place, the spacy place, and I miss it, and this is important, too, and means I again will have a world of more density and more acccomplishment than finishing a puzzle. I hope this makes sense.
Anyway, all of this leads me to the book "The Ice Queen" by Alice Hoffman. I learn there "that without thunderstorms, the earth would lose its electrical charge in less than an hour." We need thunderstorms. That is my point.