I Love You


textile design, 1985, pigment on wool flannel
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I love my bed (this is not my bed pictured here..).

I love my bed but I don’t want a steady diet of her.

The very thought of it scares me, frankly.

The past few days have found me with a fever which elevated my body temperature

Significantly enough to render my musculature inert (read: I could not lift myself out of bed).

Nap-time is great. Sap-time is not.

In the night I tried to get up only to slide to the floor in a heap.

Now- this is scary shit.

Cold floor.

Dramatic out-loud conversations with myself.

Some tears but mostly it felt like taking the SAT test from long ago:

WHAT is the answer to the question of how to get up?

I had my phone and knew I was essentially safe.

It took me a couple of hours to get to my knees and then to do what it took to return to bed.

It was a long and messy voyage.

I was not humiliated because there was no one there watching

Except my dog

Who came to check on me every so often but left me there to figure it out knowing she could lend support

But hangin’ on the cold floor with me for who knew how long

Was not in her plans.

Which was ok by me

Because I needed my fullest accessible ‘push through’ energy to do what I had in front of me.

Here I am a few days later..

Back to the Cathy who can do all kinds of stuff.

Heat (fever, outdoor temperature) is the vampire MS negotiators face

Which bares it’s teeth in sometimes surprise visitations

And leaves it’s teeth marks on our neck

As a parting gift.

Following an experience of having to surrender and redraw the map in moments like these

Gives me a leg up on the life-skills needed to die a little every day

In order for the REAL CATH to please stand up (or whatever) and be counted.

This, to me means stepping out once again with a newer sense of humility, the honest-to-God knowledge of the impermanence of things (with and without pissiness about it), gratitude for my victories such as they are and the sense my heart is more porous and able to be moved in deeper ways.

When you (we,I) do the work of dying a little everyday to who we were

Taking lots of naps is very good medicine.

comments

4 Responses to “I Love You”

  1. Muff on April 13th, 2012

    Having been there and done that more times than I like to remember, I recognize that feeling of triumph, both when we conquer that beast and when we move back into our familiar routine.
    BTW, I loved your Easter post — just didn’t get around to a comment.

    Peace,
    Muff

  2. Pam on April 13th, 2012

    Blessings to you Cathy! With lots of love… of course.

  3. Jane on April 13th, 2012

    Dear Cathy,

    It seems you unfailingly move and inspire me. I am sorry you had to spend time on the floor but you manage to turn it into something beautiful.

    With love and much respect,
    Jane

  4. karen gordon on April 23rd, 2012

    cathy – your courage and grace never cease to inspire and amaze me. when i am in a really dark place (as i have been for the last year) i think of you sometimes and it gives me strength. thank you so much for publishing your heart. the poetry that pours from your computer keys is always a gift.

    much love,
    karen

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