Ah How sweet was a clean and sober relationship !
I tell you. The little things I am doing take INCREDIBLE effort. I am so resistant to going out nowadays and afraid of it that to be moving house is the stuff of nightmares. I tire easily and begin to bleed. As well as that all the moves from 2002-2014 were with my beloved helpmeet. He handled them well – or maybe we handled them well together.
Now I find myself needing to PROGRAMME myself as I did in early recovery. Like an automaton. Till I find a place to rest.
But what is happiness except the simple harmony between a man and the life he leads.
Love is less a feeling than a thousand tiny acts of kindness.
“Our fears are lessened and faith begins to grow as we learn the true meaning of surrender. We are no longer fighting fear, anger, guilt, self-pity, or depression.”
Basic Text p. 26
And this is my problem at this time and since the death and coma.
Surrender is the beginning of a new way of life. When driven primarily by self-will, we constantly wondered whether we’d covered all the bases, whether we’d manipulated that person in just the right way to achieve our ends, whether we’d missed a critical detail in our efforts to control and manage the world.
We either felt afraid, fearing our schemes would fail; angry or self-pitying when they fell through; or guilty when we pulled them off. It was hard, living on self-will, but we didn’t know any other way.
Well last night I was done in again. Kaput. Arkue rang and kept talking till things were a little clearer and I also just plain sat here and said I GIVE UP.
Then I slept all night and woke as normal people do – and functioning. I went to town and handed in my rental application to Natalie. I have also now spoken upfront with Lisa and she knows that it is my intention to leave within 2 weeks.
From the real estate I went to the Urunga Meeting. Drove myself. So I did. I enjoyed it too and was clear and upfront with the men who have offered to help me. Men and woman. Now I need to speak to Shazz, Cath and – well that’s all i know. Today’s tasks are done. Dinner is cooking. All kind of mad thinking is bedevilling me. I really need to work from my head for this.
It was a cold day but blue skied and crisp. I liked being in Urunga but going back is not the answer to my unhappiness. I don’t know what the answer is. I am attempting to work from head logic.
I HAVE BEEN increasingly content with my daily life and if I can make my little nest and survive the settling in – I think that will return to me. I just need to not lose the plot in the transition.
My girls popped in as well. I love my family.
I guess it was not to be expected that I would come through the anniversary of izzy’s death and the decision making about moving without being rocked and rocked I have been.
I feel a little better tonight. Glory be !
One step at a time.
Walk In Dry Places
Let it Happen
Easy Does it.
Student pilots learn a simple method for getting an airplane out of a stall; Release the stick forward, and the airplane rights itself. Continue to hold the stick back, and you cause a fatal spin.
Many times, we cling too tightly to conditions that could simply right themselves if we would only let go. Situations often work themselves out when we stop pushing and pulling too hard.
If we’re living on a spiritual basis and following our 12 Step program, lots of unpleasant conditions will clear up without any strain or struggle on our part. The secret, then, is to do our part and act prudently, but also to be willing to let things happen.
I’ll remember today not to push or pull too hard to get my way. Things might work themselves out if I simply let natural forces work properly in every situation.
A THATCH. I can call my place a THATCH. Unless I find an aboriginal word which fits better.
They truly love their homes,
so they have no interest in travel.
There may be some carts or boats,
but these don’t go anywhere.
Everything is ordered and predictable, and that is what the farmer in Berry would seek in his final house. But as the poem continues, the “house” is more complex.
Beyond this final house
I’ll make no journeys, that is
the nature of this place,
I came here old; the house contains
the shade of its walls,
a fire in winter; I know
from what direction to expect the wind;
I move in the descent
of days from what was dreamed
to what remains.
In the stillness of this single place
where I’m resigned to die
I’m not free of journeys:
one eye watches while the other sleeps
— every day is a day’s remove
from what I know.
The house is the container of poet’s mind and spirit. The poet is now old and realizes that this will be his last house, that his journeying will end here, though one ultimate journey remains, and every day brings him closer to it, one step removed from the familiar.
No guest throughout the year,
the gate remains closed.
No-minded all day,
Greetings my Friends. It seems I missed yesterday. Missed it almost entirely. I went to sleep on the 21st and woke up today. I was aware of a few things but only a few and I didn’t care at all. I don’t know whether the combo of Izzy’s anniversary and finding a new place to live in did me in or not. It usually takes a platelet drop and bleed for me to pass out so fully for so long. I was horizontal most of the day as well but am now able to sit up and walk around and my head is clearing quite a lot so I shall be able to attend to business. I have some shivering and a slight temp so I am watching things.
I now find it intolerable here as I once did in Tugun. I am not 100 % sure about the next one but will trust that there is something at work in this decision. I shall reduce my possessions even further and make myself more portable. Then I can come and go at will – something I had established before Izzy and I built our lives together. I shall also need a laptop or tablet.
I did go out for a little while late this afternoon. Just to the corner to see the clouds and back. When I got to the corner there was a very beautiful grey haired woman there and she took time to speak with me – elder wisdom it was and filled me with peace and joy. We spoke of things I long to speak of. And stopped to look at the clouds. Then she walked along.
The Wise Cloud Woman.
and walked away
we had seen the clouds at sunset
I feel sadness come over me now and I know that the official medical world would call it “depression” so I ain’t going near them. I am sad because of several things and a few meetings and some action will ease it. As well as recovery from the physical dimension of whatever it was.
Maybe tomorrow I shall take a drive and do a meeting.
Maybe tomorrow, I shall apply for rental bond assistance and contact the real estate agent.
Maybe tomorrow – my mind will be clear and my body strong.
Now I drink my ginger tea and prepare for bed.
Trying to image my next dwelling. My concerns about it are :
- the walk down the side to my place.
- people living above me
- a little girl and a steiner alternate type mum
- no easy walks
What looks good is :
- the actual space
- closeness to the girls
- being away from my landlady
- being away from drunks and anger and gossip and violence
- views of a kind and space to see the sky
I guess, like Tugun was, that its more of a getting away from rather than a going to. Like the end of using in some ways. I don’t know where I’m going to but I sure know what I’m going from.
And to finish this day off – there are people out there more suited to who I now am. I can see their faces and have briefly overlapped with some. These are the people I invite into my life now. A touch of class.
Well – isn’t that a nice awareness. The Dots of Ebor Water and the Wise Women of the Clouds. And I know there are many more. Like my new therapist. Well- another breakthrough – a touch of Bilambil Class, my dear Douglas. A touch of class.
To display at last
Maturity of spirit
Sleep, perchance to dream
According to some scientists, the brain works as much in sleep as in waking, busy problem-solving and prioritizing what should go into memory. This is why the “sleep on it” advice for decision-making works — or is it? Clarity and insight may develop in sleep precisely because there is no work, no doing of mathematical-logical processing at all. Instead, the mind in sleep registers impressions and sorts feelings. What it resolves for waking is based on the innate sense of consciousness we possess simply as human beings. Our busy modern culture wants to work out its contrived problems “24/7.” But insight and wisdom come from “not-doing” or wu-wei. For this reason eastern sages have always seen the absence of dreams as confirmation of not-doing, as a high point of progress towards enlightenment.
The first day’s sun
the new appearance of being —
Who are you?
There was no answer.
Years went by.
Day’s last sun
asked the last question from the shores of the west
in the soundless evening —
Who are you?
There was no answer.
I was a little afraid of today but it has been a sweet melancholia and quite beautiful. I THINK I have the new place as well. I do, of course, have no idea about what the upstairs people will be like but I proceed. I make a head decision not to remain in this atmosphere. Tomorrow I will have tasks to do. Acquire the bond and fill in the application form.
WE LOVED EACH OTHER so dearly in Life – it makes no sense to me that that would stop now. I don’t figure I shall have another relationship. I figure that I continue to bathe in the beauty and warmth and security of Izzy and Lynne. This year has been the kindest since 2014. I woke that morning. And he was gone on his run. He did that most days.
BUT HE DIDN’T COME HOME.
The Police came and my daughter who was talking to me on the phone screamed. A scream I can still hear like a Celtic wailing. The police took me up Valery Road to where Izzy lay beside the road in the dust. Covered in a blue sheet like all the movies tell us. I didn’t kneel. I didn’t kiss him. I knew he was gone and myriad sparkles of light flashed out all over the place in the Forest. As if his body could no longer contain all the energy he had and all the things he wanted to do. He was Life to me, Izzy was.
He bubbled and sparked and sang and played and talked and mowed. He was Life. I am the Passivity. The Receptacle. I did not know whether or not he had poured enough Life into me for me to continue. Some days I still don’t know – some days I do.
I CONTINUE. CHANGED.
I continue quietly and singly. The space at the new place will suit me but I don’t know about the neighbours. No matter for now. I shall deal with it. When and if it happens. I think I am ready to enjoy my space again after so long. I think I am ready to come down to the amount of possessions I had in Bilambil. I think it is time to get what I do own in order. I am so much stronger than I was even one month back.
i thought that death was death
the words people wrote meant nothing to me
now i think that death is no less strange
than all the rest
The day will come
When the sight of this earth will be lost
I will take my leave in silence
As the stars look on
I know the sun will rise again
The hours will still bring pleasure and pain
In heaving waves.
When I think of the end, time crumbles
I see by the light of death
That the lowliest existence is rare
And the worst moments are precious
What I longed for will be set aside
The things I pursued in vain —
Let them pass
Let me turn
To things I overlooked
And carelessly threw away
To possess them truly until they are mine
As the stars look on.
He went to the core of inner silence. What did this silence tell him? First it made him aware that death is always stalking us, every moment of our lives, not as an enemy but as part of the Unknown that surrounds existence. You have only to look over your shoulder to see that death is a little closer than the last time you looked. Having faced this fact, should you live in perpetual anxiety? For Tagore this knowledge made life magical, because he was forced to change his priorities. ‘Things that I longed for and things that I pursued, let them pass away,’ Tagore writes. ‘Instead let me truly possess what I overlooked and ignored.’
If I ever left here, where would I go – to the realm of people all trouble and peril?
I went to the new psych today and I liked him. I can have 10 free visits in a calendar year. He has a Zen basis which suits me. I like him. He is intelligent and warm and courteous.
He gave me this little simple phrase :
On my way to him, I saw magnolias and sheep and plants and autumn leaves.
My Astra has a flat tyre and I went to town to get it pumped up.
The psych asked if he could read my writing about the Dreaming in the Coma but I can’t find what I have written. Perhaps I have not actually written it down in detail.
You see, when I came back from the Dreaming, I had lost so many parts of me that Words were scattered all through my life like a Scrabble Board tipped over. I could join a word, or two – sometimes. Sometimes they made sense and sometimes – they seemed not to.
Even when I had the Words I did not have the stamina to sit and type or write. Each movement , each thought – I have retrieved and renewed. Now – things are better than I thought they were going to be. Now I can write and think. I found pdfs of the two books I have been involved with and someplace is the photo exhibition I was shown in in Akron.
It is 3 years tomorrow since Izzy went running and never came back. 3 years.
THAT WAS A GRAND LOVE AFFAIR.
from Patricia in Paris
“On ne voit bien qu’avec le coeur” said the little Prince
When a person has grown old and has done his all, it is his task peacefully to make friends with death. He does not need other people. He knows them and has seen enough of them. What he needs is peace. It is not seemly to seek out such a person, to talk to him, to torment him with your chatter. At the gateway to his home the proper thing is to pass by, as if nobody lived there.
Hermann Hesse (notice on the door of his house upon award of the Nobel Prize for Literature)
There are, indeed, things that cannot be put into words. They make themselves manifest. They are what is mystical What we cannot speak about we must consign to silence.
Lugwig Wittgenstain, Tractatus logico-philosophicus
Voidness is that which stands right in the middle between this and that. The void is all-inclusive, having no opposite – there is nothing which it excludes or opposes. It is living void because all forms come out of it and whoever realizes the void is filled with life and power and the love of all human beings.
Tao of Jeet Kune Do
FROM SIMPLY SEPSIS.
Hi all. Just thought I’d post a quick note. 4am here and a sleepless night. Learned today that I will lose both my legs because of the osteomyelitis caused from the Septic Shock. Right leg and last 2 toes on left foot come off on Friday and then the left leg below the knee in about 3 months from now. This will be surgery 9 and 10. It has become a quality of living issue for me. I’m not ok living the rest of my life in pain and hobbling around. This is a chance to literally take a step forward. I have baseball to play with my grandkids and more congressmen to talk to in DC with #abiomedimpella! I believe this is the next act in this crazy drama of wellness. I’m told this will hurt like hell, but I also know I’m going to walk from the capital all the way to the Lincoln memorial without any assistance nor wheelchair next time I’m out in DC. Anyway, I ramble… For those who walk with along with me on a path of faith, I value your prayers. I do not believe ANY of this is God’s will. God has given me folks like #abiomed to help me to wellness and kind ears from folks like you who were willing to read my rambling. That helps so tremendously. On to the next phase of sepsis and #heartrecovery.
Larry_________________________The trouble with having a heap of chronic conditions is that you never know which is causing what, particularly when half the symptoms overlap. However, this has arrived since my bout with sepsis and I know the antibiotics I took can cause it but wondered if anyone else has it. I have developed what can only be described as ‘idiot brain’. 🙂 . I don’t mean brain fog. I’ve had fibro for years and know what brain fog is. This is very different.
I feel like my brain just refuses to work. There is no fogginess. If anything it’s more like ADD. I forget things. I have made the same fruit cake for over 40 years without the recipe. Now I need the recipe every time. I have no idea what my phone number is. I cannot tell you how old I am unless I work back from the my birth year. I forget what day it is, several times a day. It’s getting a bit scary, but I’ve had brain scan and MRI and nothing sinister. Anybody else like this???Libby
fingers on a piano
hands on a wheel
the web spins itself
Well. I did it ! I picked Saffron up and took her to school and later I went to her piano recital and brought her home. I am VERY happy. This is another of those things which I thought I might never be able to do again. I have also done half a year without being hospitalised. I was able to walk up with her all the way to her classroom. Good stuff, eh?
Kaybee looked rested with not having to go out at all today. And the Saf and I went to the Prov and had potato scallops. It was a happy time for me.
I also have a curry brought to me by Janine Howe who fixed my computer. She brought 2 fruit crumbles as well. Delicious.
SO – ANOTHER DAY -GONE WELL.
My mind is peaceful and I feel less harassed despite planning going on in my head.
FROM VAN BADHAM
The hermit is an important figure at the outset of the hero’s journey, represented in folklore and mythology as the wise encouraging guide, the dispenser of protection, counsel, and well-being. The hermit may be presented as the solitary wise one dwelling in a forest or cave, that is, the source of strength in the receded consciousness that represents stability and a reservoir of compassion and wisdom, stern but reassuring. Thus, as the adventure begins,
Whether dream or myth, in these adventures there is an atmosphere of irresistible fascination about the figure that appears suddenly as a guide, marking a new period, a new stage, in the biography. …
The first encounter of the hero-journey is with a protective figure (often a little old crone or old man) who provides the adventurer with amulets against the dragon forces he is about to pass …
The crone or fairy godmother in European fairy tales, the Virgin in Christianity, the African Mother of the Gods, the Native American Spider Woman, the Eastern Cosmic Mother, Dante’s Beatrice, Goethe’s Gretchen -— all manifest supernatural guidance, especially representative of the peace of Paradise and the cosmic womb. Masculine figures of aid and guidance are usually “some little fellow of the wood, some wizard, hermit, shepherd, or smith.” In higher mythologies, the masculine guide is the teacher, and especially the ferryman, such as Hermes or Thoth. [An accessible example, not mentioned by Campbell, is the character of the ferryman in Hesse’s novel Siddhartha.]