It’s sixty days since my brother’s passing. What’s here for me now?
I ruminate. There are sixty seconds in a minute, and sixty minutes in an hour. Has his passing led me to a deeper knowing of the passage of time?
I know I’m pounded with desire for each second and minute to be fully utilized and absorbed. I’m super-sensitive, as though my skin is laid bare, my guts seen in their vulnerability and a churning need to know and connect.
This morning I was outside watering, and the hose kept kinking. I had to unkink it so the water could flow. Is that what happens when we don’t allow ourselves to fully feel what is true for us right now?
Last night, it was still hot. I sat outside with the increasing moon and felt the night as I listened to the sounds of creatures moving around, nuzzling as they settled, or perhaps just venturing out. A range of critters dwell here, and there’s much going on around me that I don’t always see, hear, smell, taste, touch. I don’t always allow myself to sink into the entry and exit, the inner and outer landscape I inhabit and share.
I read yesterday that women who live with greenery have longer lives. I’m surrounded with green, embraced, though a few of my plants took a hit with the heat, and I was out early this morning cutting off roses, geraniums, and lavender flowers that were hanging limp. I was trying to be generous with watering but must have slipped, and then last Monday I found a tick on my chest. I was in the shower and brushed it off, but still seeing a bump a week later, went to the doctor yesterday.
I learned that black ticks which I thought didn’t carry Lyme disease and smaller brown ones which do, look the same once they’ve settled into our skin to suck. Therefore, I’m on antibiotics just in case. The doctor said it can sometimes take five to ten years for Lyme Disease to show up so why risk it. I agree. I’m reducing my willingness for risk these days. I want more days and nights, more phases of the moon, more playing with balance and light.
My brother had Lyme Disease about fifteen years ago, and because it wasn’t recognized and diagnosed soon enough, he almost died. I’m happy to be on antibiotics and I see that means no sun, which is true for me anyway, with my fair skin, but I forget, and now I will be more diligent for the next two weeks.
It’s cooler today and as I was outside with my plant friends, I thought of how we all have to adjust, each moment, hour and day. One constant is change. My plants need me to offer water. And I need support from friends.
I’m with the dynamics of friendship these days. What is it to be a friend to ourselves, to others, to the earth?
Balancing on the question of friendship, I watched a Ted Talk by Pat Samples. She speaks of using our body for guidance and a bodywork session where she got in touch with the loss of her father.
Rosen sessions allowed me to cry and release the passing of my father in an accident when I was 19. We can change our lives, no matter what our age. We can release and unkink traumas of our past. There we live engaged, evolving the seconds that are our life.
I suggest you watch and participate in Pat’s Talk.