I'm here -

It has been quite the day.  I rose and quickly posted, did the free flow writing with Jane, scurried to Muir Beach for a shower at Karen's since I have no heat or hot water, and, there I enjoyed the beautiful new expansion of her home, as well as a hot shower and tea.  Then,  I had breakfast with Jeff at the Rain Tree Cafe, and, then,  it was up to Fairfax and  the horses.  One woman shared today, who is a month ahead of me in this, and also, dealing with this problem of over-stimulation, that she walks through Whole Foods now with a hat on her head that is like blinders, to dampen some of the stimulation of the store.  I don't think we realize how we are bombarded until we go through something like this.

Steve arrived home from Dubai as I got home, so we are each quickly computering before we go out to eat. 

I am placing my poems from this morning time with Jane, here, though now they feel a bit out-of-date. 

Last week, Kimberly took photos of me with Flamin'.  She gave them to me today.  In a way, it is my first time seeing myself with this little bit of hair.  I look  very happy in the pictures.  I am very happy.

Today was another glorious horse day.  We guide the horses with our sit bones, and it is quite the treat.  Today, I learned when I sink down, the horse stops and there, we are, resting together as one.  Oneness seems to be my theme today.  I think I am learning to unify.   It is raining outside, and cold in the house.  56 last time I checked.  PGE comes tomorrow to see what is up.   Here are my morning poems.

To My Plant Friends  -  (the second day after the end of treatment.   Who am I?)

 

My dreams tell me I don’t need anything.

In them, I’ve lost all possessions.

I have no home.

I consider, and I am fine.

I still ingest, and eliminate,

but life here, whatever here is,

demands a call to PG&E

I have no heat or hot water,

and the fog is in and it is cold

and I would enjoy a hot shower

and yet, I don’t call -

I listen to the birds

and sit with leaves as companions.

Their laps unfold

and I place myself in them,

and I wrap

in one leaf after another -

I need  soft, gentle care,

breath, the breath of leaves, Oxygen.

I need it now, like a drug, a fix.

I request, “Can you jump pump your breath

right into my veins?  Can I drink like a bug?”

And I do.

I rest in the curve of the breath,

the trumpet call

of One.

 

 

Again, One

 

People who only know me with no hair,

and hats, think I look beautiful,

but my friends who knew me before

still look shocked -

who am I -

I am soft and scared -

tears come now like opossums in the night -

marsupial am I -

my pouch holds shards of fear. 

I reach now to wash the shards in the stream,

like a raccoon his hands,

and all disappears.  

 

 

Transformation

 

I feel shaky.

I learn that the cervix needs several years

to stabilize

after having a pap test.

No wonder I still shiver as though I am on the table

with a huge machine wrapped around me.

I am scared.

I am cold, and I have no gas, literally.

My gas connection to my house has gone out,

and Mandu snuggles close, wondering what is up

with his morning heat vent,

and he and I know we can survive

because we do,

and one day our pilot light will go permanently out

and we will understand

the beauty of this world,

the elements, fire, water, earth, and air,

connected end to end,

climbing the bars hand over hand,

life over death,

again and again.