Category Archives: IZZY FOREAL



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.


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.


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 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?

Po Chui-i (from “My Thatch Hut”)

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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.


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



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.

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???


I have been loooking back at the trip we took down South in 2013 and all I could see was just how ill he was looking. Pleased with his loss of weight. But he was too thin. Too frail. His hair was falling out. But do you know, we had the happiest time in those last months. I felt the strong surging of love and had promised myself to be more gentle and more kind with him – and I was.

We were very, very happy.

But MiGod he was ill.



Just a few little bits. A visit from the Kids and a chat at the Providore.  Then Peter Barry borrowed the Kaye Bass to lay down some tracks and teach Jo Pierce. That pleases me. Izzy would have wanted to see his instruments used this way.

So now its nightime and they say RAIN is coming bigtime. Ain’t raining yet. I am fog headed this week so I am not worrying about doing anything. I didn’t go to the funeral in Coffs. IN fact I haven’t even crossed the river for 2 days. I feel OK. Think I have another UTI and I am taking Ural tablets and sleeping it off.