medical irony

I have been deaf in one ear for about three weeks.

I figured it was a cold, or allergies.

It made my voice echo in my head in uncomfortable ways, turned my thoughts cloudy. Cloudier. Made me more inclined to silence, as speaking made it worse. Yesterday, I realized I couldn't smell things very well, so I finally called my doctor.

She looked. She tried to clear my ear. Didn't work. The nurse tried flushing it with hot water. Didn't work. They had me lay on my side so they could pour some solvent in my ear. I soaked in solvent for awhile. Lying there, I wondered about the body-wisdom of left-side deafness - whether my ear says I am not listening well enough, or that I am listening to the outside world too much. I think it just means I am temporarily deaf.

The solvent irrigation didn't work; I remain deaf. Though it did do enough to let my dear sweet doctor decide....

I have swimmer's ear.

She apologized. She knows that I have not, and cannot go swimming, due to intense flashbacks.

The fact that I have swimmer's ear  is either cruelty, or poetic irony.

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the new yoga

I tried, relatively early on, to go back to regular yoga classes. They did not induce calm. All those images of peaceful, blissed out yogis, seated calmly on their mats - that was not me. Every time some soft voiced yoga teacher spouted off platitudes, I wanted to stand up and yell corrections: "you create your own reality." Really? I did this? I am responsible for matt drowning? I created this? That's a lot of responsibility on me. "Where you are is absolutely perfect, everything is beautiful in this moment." No. No it isn't, and WTF does child's pose have to do with anything? "Breathe, and know that everything is exactly as it should be, and is unfolding for your own deepest good." Come now, dear young yoga teacher, let me tell you that your husband just suddenly died, and please let me tell you also that all you need to do is breathe, and know it's all for your own good. How great is that?

A friend of mine who has lived through cancer, palsy and seizures related to cancer, crohn's, and all manner of other things quit her yoga as well. She said - it's all well and good until you're really in pain, until you really need the power behind the words. And just when you need it most, you reach for it and find there's nothing there. All those empty, pretty words. All the teachers can do is prattle on about how if my thoughts were clear, my way would be clear, how right now is just perfect. What I want to know is what do I hold on to when there's nothing left. What is there when it is not perfect, and you are terrified?



The good that came out of those early classes, the few I could withstand, was an idea of "yoga for death." Seething there on my mat, I had whole classes, whole dialogues run seamlessly and beautifully in my mind. I've lost most of them - my memory is not so good anymore. But if I were a yoga teacher, here are the things I would say: You do not create your reality, it will be what it will be. What is in your power is how you respond to reality. You practice to help you respond, with as much kindness and grace as you can. Your practice will not change anything that can't be changed.  You come to your mat, to your practice, to be here for yourself, to keep your heart from seizing up entirely. You are here. Where you are is not perfect. It may or may not be okay. But here you are. Practice is for this moment, not for any future. Practice is to hear what you need, for yourself, in any given moment of reality. Everything is unfolding. Good or bad is not in your command. Breathe. You come here to sit beside what is - both joy and sorrow, goodness and not. Breathe. And deepen that twist. Sometimes that is all you've got.


Admittedly, I might have a bit of a hard time keeping students, if I were that sort of yoga teacher. It could be a hard sell. But boy, if there were one like that around, I would be there all the time.

Yoga for death. I would so be there.

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blog oddness

seems blogger has been having issues. Not sure they are entirely fixed yet, but at least I can log in. Anyhoo - just a note to say - hi. Still here. Trying to comment, sometimes I can't.

And in "late to the rapture party" news, I was thinking yesterday ~ in early summer of 2009, it rained for around 40 days and 40 nights. There was a flood. And it did in fact destroy the world. Clearly, it didn't occur to either of us that that water was who she was.

So many worlds destroyed all the time. Who's to say which rapture comes, which flood, which armageddon. And - if people are looking for jesus to come back all full of brimstone and judgment and pain, they are thinking of the wrong guy.

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precision in the inbox.

Double Eye

You've given me your terrible Double Eye
That sees all things as empty and as You.
You scathe all flesh to bone, flame bone to Light
How could I survive such horror, and splendour?

- Jalal-ud-Din Rumi



Rumi is right on these days.

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These Cries

I wept my life away and learned to live
Where tears are prayers, all stumbling
Dancing to the drum of suns, these cries
Sounds of extreme love.

- Jalal-ud-Din Rumi


Not such good days, these days. But that is all I have to say about that.


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Waves of Light

You are 'there', I 'here'. Worlds separate us,
Death's angels, the void of space...
Yet I say your name, and waves of Light
Wash to me silently from your Heart.

- Jalal-ud-Din Rumi


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guaranteed

I don't know if he'd heard this song. I think he would have had me listen, if he had. I heard it on the radio the other day. At first, just the guitar picking - made me hear him again, made me hear his fingers on the strings, hear his voice. And then vedder's voice - I swear, though matt would vehemently disagree, those two are voice brothers. If there were a theme song for my love, in himself, it would be this.





For me, these days, I seem to be living firmly in HOLY SHIT land. As in - he was just here, solid, actual, real. And that a man so solid, tangible, real is just suddenly gone. Holy Shit. Incredulous. Unbelievable. My mind smacks into it again and again. That cannot be real. Either he never was, or he is coming home soon (and cleary, I've gone crazy to think that he's gone). That he was AND he is gone, I'm sorry. That is just f-ing NUTS. Holy Shit Land. That is where I live. It's crazyland that I have to accept as reality. Solid and here, and disappeared.

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of other men

Well. In case anyone is burningly curious about whether I have run into the man from the earlier post, yes. I did. Today. Today has been one of those days where I am just sad. Just sad, without rage or irritability or anything else. Just sadness, heavy and pure. The dog and I spent most of the day outside so he could chase rocks and I could transplant things, leaving the garden intermittently to shove the broody chicken off the infertile eggs. I wanted a coffee. Well. I didn't. I have another cold, and I wanted to go back to bed. But I also needed to do a few errands, and wanted a coffee first, to get through them. I am so heavy with sad today, I didn't want to take the chance of running into anyone who might want to talk to me, so I waited until late afternoon to go. The place was nearly empty. I sat, drank my coffee, read my book.


Guy from last week came in and sat down. This time, I didn't feel awkward. I felt calm. And sad.  I wondered if it showed. I wondered if he was the kind of person who would notice. What was different for me this time was that I felt more prepared, more familiar with how it felt to leave big gaps in my side of the "information." With the weight of sad on me so clear today, I felt more tender towards myself, I guess. We talked for a bit, mostly he talked. I knew he was flirting. I stepped over whatever he laid down. As Matt and I used to say, it's not that I don't recognize the social cues, it's just that I don't care to acknowledge them.


After I left and did my errands, I kept imagining all the questions that could be asked, by him or anyone, and how I might answer them. Last week, that completely messed me up and made me panic. Today, I know that I am practicing. Practicing, in my mind, and with people who don't know me yet, how I answer things. How I share who I am, how I say hello. Not just in love. That may not be part of my road again this time around. But how I greet anyone. The panic gave me a bit of an opportunity to remind myself to slow down a bit, to trust myself.

So. No panic. Just watching. Just noticing. Calm. Still sad.


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of gods and men

.

It's been awhile since I've given you any movie reviews.

http://www.sonyclassics.com/ofgodsandmen/

I saw this today. Is it playing near you? Go see it. Yes, it has death. I'm not sure how many tombstones to give it. Three? Four? There are no poignant actual death scenes. There is violence. There are tears, and they are quiet. There were a couple of scenes I had to cover my eyes, but not my ears. The calling of bullsh*t on god and on faith is done so beautifully and right. I cried through most of it, but a lot of that was because it was so intensely beautiful, even knowing what was to come. Even when what was to come had come.

I needed this movie. Especially when this world has seen so much violence, so much faith used as a platform of violence; especially when people celebrate death so easily, as though it changes anything. Especially when my normal sensitivity to the ugliness of humankind has become so unbearable without my love and my team here beside me. Especially now. Today.

So, my people, even though there is death, even though it is sad and beautiful, even though it earns tombstones and I don't know how many, it is worth it. To me, anyway. Today.

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PS - I guess technically, Of Gods and Men doesn't belong in the Tombstone Rating System, as you know right upfront from the previews and synopsis that death is involved. No sneaky hidden agendas in this movie.
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spread the word, please

More people likely read cadi's blog than read here, but still - in case you haven't seen the post:
http://maehegirl.blogspot.com/

Widowhood is hard enough as it is. Worrying about how you will feed and house your kids - that's just cruel. I checked the Liz Logelin Foundation, but Cadi is just past the 12 month mark, so doesn't qualify. If you know of other resources, or have some of your own, please send them her way.

Whatever you can send - love, good thoughts, tangible things. Love. You know. However that shows up.

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