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Stormy Weather

 

Goodness…. what a road I’m on..

Night before last I spent in the emergency veterinary clinic with my dog, Olivia.

She was looking for dark places in my home to nest.. away from me which was not like her.  Couldn’t jump up on the couch anymore.

She still wagged her tail on my approach but she felt feverish and wouldn’t eat.

My heart said not to wait till Monday to get her checked out so we left in the middle of the night for the clinic.

She is in liver failure.

Everyone in the clinic was in shock at this finding as Livvy was behaving like she had it somewhat together. (Sound familiar?)

They put her in isolation as there is concern over an infection she may have contacted from going to the prairie dog populated park we walk in.

Now, I know not everyone is a dog person so I’ve lost some of you already but this post is really about LOVE.

I never had kids by choice. Never was drawn to procreate. My art seemed to suffice.

Part of the reticence was surely due to concern I would screw the kids up coming from the atmosphere I grew up in.

I never wanted a dog. Ever.

Too much responsibility. Too much ‘other’ in my sacred space. Just TOO MUCH.

A trusted guide and mentor was after me for two full years to ‘get it’ that a human, such as myself, who registers the world so acutely needs to have ‘a familiar’ (she calls it) to connect with and know and be known by.

Livvy and I have had a year and a half together.

When I cry, she lays on my chest and looks me in the eye with sympathetic tears.

When I need space, she needs no prompting to find herself something to do.

When I come home, she dances on her two hind feet and smiles.

There’s much more but I’ll spare you…

I am aching for the strangeness, the needles, the isolation, the discomfort my dog is steeped in at the moment.

I will pick her up tonight and begin what may be goodbye.

I woke up this morning mad at God.

“How much more?” I think, am I supposed to manage here, in what, at times feels like this little life?

Of late, it feels like the gates are wide open to any and every thing;  thorny and unbidden.

And then I get this flash of:  OUR GREATEST GIFT IS FREE WILL AND CHOICE.

No matter what is served up at the table, we ALWAYS have the privilege of choosing our response..

Self pity?   Depression?  Addiction?   Forgiveness?   Defeat?   Courage?  Gratitude?

I am choosing love today. And gratitude. And tenderness toward a being I adore.

After writing this post, self pity has lost all it’s hold.

The “Why me?” question has, once again blessedly shifted toward a much richer landscape.

Thank God.

Let Her Go

 

LET HER GO

 

Just let that one go.
You know, the one you know so well?
That girl with the life juice that yearns to do every damn thing.
Even when she’d really rather not.

Just let that one go.
The gracious woman glad to be included
But blind to the truth of it,
That there is no interest there.

Let her go.
She worrys she’s not enough
Because poetry calls louder
Than the heat of the melting pot.

Let her breathe.
Agreements be damned
And yes-saying curtailed
Until she meets herself. Her Self.

Let her know.
She’s a smart one, that!
Every secret hidden,
And now is REMEMBERED! (in the Quiet)

Let her be.
This innocent stumbler.
A constant sure step
Misses Humility altogether.

Let her SAY!
The Horror, the Hope and Fury,
And Awe and Grief and Mercy
In this shadowy temple.

Let her pray.
For gut-wrenching laughter
And that lightness of being
Behind every tear.

Let her sit.
At the Gratitude table. 
Keeping company with candles,
Just loving the light.

 

C.A. 2009

The Grit and Grace of Need

 

I have absolutely STELLAR friends.

They are my tribe and non-blood family.

When I graduated from high school,  I won the award for most congenial and prettiest smile….

That was sort of weird because I never belonged to any clique and was a borderline juvenile delinquent.

I value relationship highly;  with people,  Nature,  God,  rocks and minerals, creatures and particularly with my Self.

I love my own company.

Thank God for that as I have spent a good deal of my life alone  (mostly by choice..)

I am an artist.  By nature,  I navigate worlds unnoticed or uninteresting to most.

This makes me sort of hard to be friends with,  at times.  Or to understand, at least.   I retreat for long periods or become distant in a myriad of ways all too easily mistaken as a personal affront.

But really,   these are my ways of saving myself.   I feel the world so deeply.  And I still take too much of it on myself.   When the load gets too heavy I pause to begin taking the weight I carry that isn’t mine , piece by piece, and put it down.

There are a few friends who have stayed the course with me.

I NEVER used to need much from others-  priding myself in weary  ’independent-womanliness’.  How utterly BORING.

So here I am,  a woman with MS who now NEEDS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I am in that between state of hating the needing and weeping from the gratitude from the help I receive.

I have a couple friends in particular who I am  ’letting’  help me.  They know me well and tread so lightly that I often don’t even know I’m saying yes to their offers to make life easier for me.

I could NOT do life without them.  They keep meeting the pathetic little fences I keep trying to throw up to keep my imaginary status quo intact, with love and persistence.

We all are waiting for me to  ’get’  the reality of my decline.

These friends continue to hold my metaphysical hand while I adjust to the new deal.

This is all unknown territory and I am afraid.  And not.

I am afraid because I am not practiced at needing.

I am not afraid because I have recreated myself so many times in life.   Seems like I have the skill set to do it again.

I do know that my ticket to wholeness within this transition is TRANSPARENCY.

That’s where you come in…  a witness.

You help me make it real.

This is,  by no means,  a small service I speak of here…

And I thank you,  so very much.

New Day

 

 

 

NEW DAY

 

 

Your dress is pretty.

The pattern suits you so well.

Don’t hesitate to call me.

 

 

                                                 -CA 2009

Comfort Food?

 

 

FINALLY!!!!

My techno-world is settling down a bit.

I appreciate you hanging in with me.

Soooooooooo… yesterday I went to a favorite haunt.. a hole-in-the-wall treasure of a restaurant.

You have to drive a bit to get there but the rewards are divine..   rugged bumpy driveway,   7 tables and 6 things on the menu.

They are a Santa Fe landmark as they’ve been here God only know how long with the same menu items of 6 different ways to serve a BURGER! (natural, grown-by-them and ground-by-them burgers.

You walk in and write your name on a blackboard and wait to be called.

It’s an old road-house that cares nothing about pretense but knows what it does better than just about anyone;  BURGERS!
I like the un-done feel of the place; good folksy-folks with big hearts.
It is comfort food for me.. not just the food but the people and place and experience.

So I had my burger and fries and conversation with Bonnie,  the waitress and felt happy watching all the bikers and RVers and BMW drivers and a movie star thrown in to boot.

I was in heaven.  (Simple things make me happy..)

Last evening I felt my legs slightly weaker than usual.

This morning I couldn’t get out of bed from the acute dullness and wet-blanket feel over my entire body..

This morning there is not a trustable muscle in my body.

I am talking about this today because I often think those of us with an autoimmune challenge are acting as  ’canaries in the mine.’

By that I mean to say that seemingly innocuous choices like eating a burger and fries cooked in questionable oil may affect us acutely where someone with a less sensitive system could skate by unscathed.

In this case, from past experience,  I recognize this feeling of utter numbness that dissipates slowly to be caused by eating the potatoes cooked in the ‘bad’ kind of oil we’re all trying to get away from, (trans-fats).

Part of my challenge in dealing with MS is to really value myself and life choices;  (diet,  work,  relationships,  where I put my attention,  etc..) over the short-lived solace of questionable comfort foods  (when I know the end results),  gossipy conversation (because I feel a part of some weird ‘us-against-them’ false sense of belonging),  life choices made moment to moment not in alignment with MY life and quest for wholeness.

I am being asked to lead a MUCH MORE REFINED life and often the little girl in here goes:  ”I DON’T WANNA!!!!!”

The question begs : “Well, Cath, how much do you REALLY want to be healthy,  clear,  strong,  adept,  inspired,  of-service  (take your pick..)?

For me,  this is a moment-to-moment challenge..  or opportunity,  I guess.
It’s the graduate course in lining myself up with that thing that I recognize as larger than myself..

You may ask:   How can she get from talking about trans-fats in oil to a spirit-infused life?

Well,  I keep getting the blessed opportunity to move toward clarity and I watch myself keep turning it down because of pesky LITTLE WANTS!

I’m really not beating myself up..  Just a nudge to use our greatest gift of free will and choice and CHOOSE WELL.

Just for today.

OK, Cath?   Just for today..

Control (Not)

 

I just have to laugh…..

The server I use crashed a couple days ago..

I’ve had no access to my blog until now and find that my ability to upload photos is just not in the program,  yet…

So,  we are IMAGE-FREE .. till we aren’t.

I watched my heartbeat become erratic and my usually contained state-of-being fraying at the edges as I negotiated the territory of:   “I WANT THIS BLOG BACK THE WAY IT WAS NOW!!!!!!!!!    AND I’M NOT KIDDING!

I NEED TO BE PROFESSIONAL AND DELIVER ON MY BLOG IN A WAY PEOPLE CAN COUNT ON!

I NEED TO WRITE AND FEEL CONNECTED!

OK…  let’s just calm down a bit here, Cath..

(talking to myself):  If you think about it,  isn’t this situation kindof like what is happening in your body?

I WANT to move with grace but my leg is not cooperating.  It behaves illogically and not a DAMN thing I can think or pray or conjure is gonna change that.

I drop a favorite hand-blown crystal bowl which shatters on the floor.

I have a million choices in that moment..

1. Clean it up while crying at my loss of the thing.

2. Clean it up and curse the fact it hurts to bend over,  my hand can’t grip the broom well,  I’m bone-tired ALREADY and here’s another THING to handle..

3. Clean it up while lamenting:  I’m alone and WHERE IS THE MAN TO HELP ME?

4. Be stoic and put the blinders on about the reality of my physicality changing..

5. Sing and make happy..

OR…………….

I could just pause..

And notice what’s on my plate in the moment.

Dial up the  ’WITNESS CATHY’

And breathe.

Then,  when my heartbeat comes down from the cobwebs up in the rafters,  I could slowly do the cleanup thing in a less reactive state..   no future thinking;  (what if this new level of clumsiness is PERMANENT?)  or past ruminations:  (my body didn’t USED to be this unreliable!).   

Feels better and more true.

So,  I’m gonna take my own advice and just breathe and softly notice how I HATE BEING OUT OF CONTROL as I wait for my blog to resolve into the form I take creative and connective solace from…

And find a brand new favorite bowl to get pleasure out of..

Gonnie

 

I couldn’t say  ’Grammie’  so her name,  for me,  became Gonnie.

She was the person in my life who really SAW me,

She tended my spirit whether I wore bright blue eyeshadow and tatters as a teenager or went with her to the Village Woman’s Club for lunch.

We just seemed to like each other’s company.   And that was good as she pretty much raised me.

We had a quiet relationship.

We went to the pond down the block to feed the ducks and look at the black swans she bought for the city that made their nests in small islands of grasses.

Black swans with bright orange beaks.

We gardened together and tended rosebushes and raspberry tangles.

We grilled fat steaks on the patio and waited for the neighborhood basset hound,  Totter,  to come by for his treat.

All this with very little chat or conversation at all.

I thought of her today because I saw a goldfinch in my tree.  Then another.   Then another.

They are always a harbinger of her,  for me.

After she died,  that same bubble of quiet we knew so well together happened as I was at her memorial lunch at her home.

The whole family was there and all of a sudden everything sort of started to fuzz out.

I was sitting on her glass porch at the table she pulled a chair up to each and every day to play cards and feel her dog’s warmth at the small of her back.

She had a bird feeder right outside the window to watch their doings up close.

As I sat there at her table and as the world as I knew it began to blurr,  a bright yellow goldfinch landed on the feeder and sang.

I somehow knew it was orchestrated by her.   For me.

It was a  ’top-five’  life experience.

All that life substance I just related occurred in quiet,  I realize.

Lately, I really notice myself pulling a cloak of silence around me.  Daily, I seem to secure the wrap with more purpose.

I’m not depressed.   It’s not that kind of retreat.

More of an invitation to a life less populated by the inundation of stuff and sound and ideas and purpose.

Does that seem heretical?

I keep wanting what I call  ’THE SPACE BETWEEN’.

Honestly,  I’m not really sure I know what that is….

But I think it has something to do with that goldfinch.

Put Yourself Down

 

 

CHAIR

 

Put yourself down here

So I can tell you that you

Know more than enough.

 

 

                                         – CA 2009

Indian Market

 

This coming weekend is INDIAN MARKET in Santa Fe.

It almost makes me WANT to be in a wheelchair.

It is THE best people-watching event one could ever hope for.

I have not attended in many,  many years because the crowd is too much for me to negotiate;  physically and energetically.

My heart always hurts a bit.

Picture this:   bright red lipstick,   ten-gallon white hat with a few feathers,  mini-skirt,   dripping with turquoise and silver atop 4″ heels..

Now,  THAT’S a memorable sight,  I tell you.

No judging here… but curiosity?  Indeed.

I am,  by nature,  a voyeur.

Human lives and choices facinate me.

The Native American population has some secrets AND WE WANT THEM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

White people want Indian secrets real bad.

What,  exactly is it that we think they’re not telling?

What knowledge do indigenous populations carry that the rest of us seem to know we need?

We either want to kill them or bow to them.

This weekend,  I think I’ll make that my quest as I look at the 50,000 people in my town for the week as they buy expensive stuff,   dress so they feel close to the clan,  stalk prize-winning artists so they can have stories to tell when they go home.

If I was in a wheelchair,  I could drop down closer to the land where,  I think,  alot of these remarkable artists draw inspiration from.

I could bypass the heady,  ego-driven posturing of a culture lost in performance mode and position myself in that inbetween place where it’s quieter,  a little more respectful.

I bet I could even see the art.

The View

 

This morning I woke caught in the big picture..

What if this happens..?

What if I can’t pay for that..?

If my foot curls under any more,  then..

What will I do if…?

Everything started to feel very DENSE and I sat here at the computer wondering why the hell I was thinking I had anything of value to say.

This is usually very unlike me to lose the  ’vitality thread’  altogether.

So I just STOPPED TRYING.

I just sat here and paused for a moment.

Looked out the window.

Felt how my body doesn’t really feel like my own today.

New tingling sensations have been happening on my left side,  and that side has been my FREE zone,  till now. There has been no weakness there but….

My mind just takes that new tingling and RUNS WITH IT!!
“Oh my God..”,  ”What if?,  ”Does that mean…?”

Yuk.

So… I’m just sittin’ here managing my fear and along comes my dog,  Livvy.

She looks at me with her soft,  bright,  patient eyes and my whole body comes back to this moment.

She makes her little throaty noises and I know exactly what she means..

This landscape is by far more interesting that the road I was about to go down a few minutes ago..

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