detail of “RENAISSANCE” , 2008, 10′ x 3′, naturally pigmented earth, wood

I have spoken here before about my resolve to ‘get healthy.’

What, actually, does it mean to be healthy?

Without symptoms?

‘Perfectly’ orchestrated bundle of muscle, ligament, organs, blood, nerves?

Health insurance card left in your wallet behind every other card? New and shiny and lonely in it’s under-use?

Conversations lively with themes of hiking and tennis and work outs at the gym?

Yesterday, I posted one of my more transparent entries in honor of Mother’s Day.

I was urged by some unseen force to do it.

The theme is, at it’s core, what I believe contributed most to my health challenges today.

Transparency also has it’s costs…

Going very public with the likes of that post; things never spoken or even whispered in my family of origin,

Was part of my resolve to get healthy.

Because, for me, health means a clear and open place in ones’ self to register the nuance of Life

In all it’s sacredness

Devoid of the theatrical costuming we dress Her with.

I am fully aware that my experience of my youth is mine and mine alone.

My siblings had their own theater going on.

The only way I know to become FREE (ie: healthy)

Is to keep reaching for the colors and cut of the cloth

I have dressed my life in, in the past,

Which often have constricted my heart

And muscles

And mind.

It is my form of fishing;

On the banks of a gently flowing river

WITH A FRIEND (not recommended to be alone),

I cast my rod (for my version of ‘truth’)

And wait for the slow, underwater disturbance

Of the wriggling thing I’ve caught. (An “AHA” moment).

I reel in the slippery bottom-dweller.

Share it with my friend, (the witnessing)



I reel in something from ‘THE MYSTERY,’

I look in awe at the raw and lively thing

And release it back into the rolling waters

With a prayer of gratitude

For how it has changed and healed me.


The metaphor is this, in other words:

*Do the work.

*Find your ‘truth.’

*Tell a friend (to get it out of the murky waters of your head.)

*PUT IT DOWN.. (so you have more room for LIFE).

This is the best medicine I know.

There’s a way to do it without it’s reduction to navel-gazing.

But when one’s life is on the line (ie: read: mine)

Decorum has to take a second seat.

And THAT, dear readers

Is the squirrly-est part of my own healing path.

The process would be forever barred from the country club;

Renegade, messy, unkempt at best..

But then again.. her I am at last..

In love with LIFE,

Certainly not always..

But enough to keep going down to the river.

PS.. A pitcher of margaritas and some purple grapes with cheese and home-made bread
make very fine accompaniments.


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