Thinking About Stuff

silk menswear, 1987

As my creative juices continue to shift into using words as a medium instead of earth and clay,

I am astounded at the rightness I feel in my bones.

A contemplative life seems as though it would lack action.

But if you were to get inside this head of mine you would see gears churning and apples being pressed.

All the interesting stuff I glean from a day,

Of limping and reclaiming my legs and the neighbor noticing that my dog is “A VENERABLE CREATURE”.

Things like how I NEED the still of the morning to calm my nerves.

And how I can’t believe that I don’t care that I have a stupid neon safety flag wagging 5′ above my wheelchair announcing myself.

That the thing I do care about is staying alive some more.


Disability is pressing my fruit till all that’s left is the apple cider; sweet and rare.

If you’ve ever been to a cider press in the fall, there are BEES! EVERYWHERE!

Drawn to the sweetness of the whole process; the annihilation of the original fruit as it is broken down to expose the tender insides.

And how the golden juice flows like honey.

And we sip it with reverence; slow and purposeful.

And hate it when it ends.

With MS, that pressing thing NEVER ends.


And we don’t really get a respite from the weight and pressure and relentless squeeze.

But for those of us who have the stamina and care to notice,

The juice is fragrant with something rare and inviting.

I take my small cup and sit alone and away from the bees.

I sit and sip.

Quiet and slow.

It entertains me, makes me stronger.

And I smile a private smile.


One Response to “Thinking About Stuff”

  1. Barry on August 4th, 2010

    Thanks for these sips of your cider. You are still a gift and that’s pretty damn exciting – isn’t it?

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