The Decline of My So-called life - a meandering...

The other day I got up as usual and did the usual morning routine
with my sister - I'm her caregiver...

I went upstairs to post a blog post - and needed to prepare
several photos for posting.

I sat in front of the computer, just staring at the screen,
not knowing what to do...

I had totally forgotten how to prepare a photo -
what the steps were.

I sat several minutes, blank, until I started to *try* to
 figure it out again...

I couldn't make my mind work!

I tried different things on the computer
until I began to recognize the steps...

It was a shock to me that my mind could do this! -
could go totally blank on something I've done
for 15 years!

I'll be honest, no amount of "spiritual practice" can

prepare you for the sudden, startling awareness of
your mind's (and body's ) decline -
"spirituality" will not save you
from the natural order of life and death...

It starts off slowly - forgetting this or that,
a memory here, a word or name there;
where you put this or that thing, finding it
eventually, but not in its usual place...

Nothing can prepare you for the frustration of
your decline...

When your legs don't want to work-
and you stumble and bumble across the floor;
Thoughts of wheelchair enter your mind -
or having to move to a one level home -
even worse - assisted living...

My once "got it all together", 
"I'm on top of things" life
is falling apart,
a little at a time -
has been for several years.

Then suddenly there's a cliff - and
Humpty Dumpty starts falling off the wall.
What's worse is I'm aware of it - and know

that: all the king's horses and all the king's men
will not be able to put "me" together again...

And so I breathe,
and try to remember 
that there is a Deeper Reality
beyond my experience,
and try to rest there...

But I wonder if I will forget that too...

Mystic Meandering
Dec. 8, 2024

At least I can still write -
writing is my "therapy"
when falling apart :)
although the poetry
doesn't emerge 
like it used to...

 

Waiting - Leza Lowitz

Art - Barbara Stone

You keep waiting for something to happen,
the thing that lifts you out of yourself,

catapults you into doing all the things you've out off,
the great things you're meant to do in your life,

but somehow you never quite get to.
You keep waiting for the planets to shift

the new moon to bring news,
the universe to align, something to give.

Meanwhile, the pile of papers, the laundry the dishes, the job -
it all stacks up while you keep hoping

for some miracle to blast down upon you,
scattering the piles to the winds.

Sometimes you lie in bed, terrified of your life.
Sometimes you laugh at the privilege of waking.

But all the while, life goes on in its messy way.
And then you turn forty. Or fifty.  Of sixty... [or 70] :)

and some part of you realizes you are not alone
and you find signs of this in the animal kingdom -

when a snake sheds its skin its eyes glaze over,

it slinks under a rock, not wanting to be touched,

and when a caterpillar turns to butterfly
if the pupa is brushed, it will die -

and when the bird taps its beak hungrily against the egg
it's because the thing is too small, too small,

and it needs to break out.

And midlife walks you into that wisdom

that is what transformation looks like -

the mess of it, the tapping at the walls of your life,

the yearning and writhing and pushing,

until one day, one day

you emerge from the wreck
embracing both the immense dawn

and the dusk of the body,
glistening, beautiful

just as you are.

Leza Lowitz

~

Many people die with their music still in them.
Too often it is because they are always getting
ready to live.  Before they know it, time runs out...

Oliver Wendell Holmes

 

The Time Is Ripe - Ajahn Chah

Now you too must learn to be satisfied with the many years
you've already depended on your body.  You should feel that
it's enough.

You can compare it to household utensils that you've had for
a long time - your cups, saucers, plates and so on.  When you
first had them they were clean and shining, but now after using
them for so long, they're starting to wear out. Some are already
broken, some have disappeared, and those that are left are
deteriorating: they have no stable form, and it's their nature
to be like that.  Your body is the same way.  It has been
continually changing right from the day you were born,
through childhood and youth, until now it has reached old age.

Allow the mind to let go of its attachments.  The time is ripe.

Even if your house flooded or burnt to the ground, whatever
the danger that threatens it, let it concern only the house.  If
there's a flood, don't let it flood your mind.  If there's a fire,
don't let it burn your heart.  Let it be merely the house, that
which is external to you, that is flooded and burned.  Allow
the mind to let go of its attachments.
The time is ripe.

It is the same with your wealth, your possessions, and your
family -  they are all yours only in name; they don't really 
belong to you, they belong to nature.

It's like the water of a river.  It naturally flows down the
gradient; it never flows against it, that is its nature.  If a
person were to go and stand on a river bank and, seeing the
water flowing  swiftly down its course, foolishly want it to
flow back up the gradient, he would suffer.  Whatever he was
doing, his wrong thinking would allow him no peace of mind.
He would be unhappy because of his wrong view, thinking
against the stream.

Find your real home...

Ajahn Chah

With thanks to The Beauty We Love

~

Photo - Mystic Meandering

 

The Winter of Life...

You know, I discovered recently that time has a way of
catching us unaware...

Even though spiritually speaking "time" is only a construct,
the body lives in a time-bound reality, subject to "time"
and deterioration...

I meandered into my 70's last October,
eyesight diminished, and hard of hearing -
What?  Are you talkin' to me?
Guess that means hearing aids...
Are you kidding me!? - resistance set in...

But here it is...  The Winter of my life has arrived,
catching me a little off guard.  I don't know why,
I see it in my hands...

It was as if some switch went off (or on) in my body
 when I turned 70 that whispered -  "body - old."

I could feel it in my body.  Actually, I felt my body
beginning to wind down years ago, but 70 was more
distinct, more of a palpable - "click" - as if time
started counting down - in earnest.

And then there was a fall in November,
a stumble that laid me up for a month!
And then some kind of respiratory "flu" in
December - the cough lasting 6 weeks!
All taking its toll on the body.
Even though I know "I" am not my body -
still...  it's wearing out;
this vehicle that has carried me this far...

Others have told me aging is all in your head.
meaning the mind.
But, the mind is going too!  Acuity left when
I wasn't looking, and memory is fogged in.
Maybe I'll forget that I'm getting old. :)
That's the biggest shocker - feeling old,
and not remembering things...

Scary

The furniture seems a little lower than it was;
harder to get up... toilet too.
It's harder to get around - stiffness has replaced
what fluidity I knew.  The grey hair has set in
around the edges.  And I see where I'm headed in
the faces of other "older women" now...

I wonder - will this "aging" affect my sense of
"knowing" the "Spirit" that animates this body?
"The Mystery", the Ineffable, Pure Awareness,
Consciousness, The Silence, "God", the Self;
however one calls IT.

Will I forget it all - that I've tried so hard to
remember...

That's my biggest "anxiety" -
If I "lose" my mind
will I remember Who "I" Really Am -
the Essence of "me"...

Do I even know that now...

Mystic Meandering
Jan. 24, 2020

~

There is a touching innocence in
the mystery of the human self.
Even after thousands of years of
experience and reflection,
we still remain a mystery to ourselves.
There is something deeply unpredictable
and unfathomable.
...Even when you approach yourself tenderly
with the candle of receptive and reverential
seeing, all you achieve is a glimpse...

John O'Donohue
from - Eternal Echoes

~

Photo - Mystic Meandering

The Medical Circus

I’ve been away at the circus a few days this week – the “medical circus” that is. It was quite scary actually. I had been in the ER 5 days before with a fever. Blood work did not indicate an infection, so they determined it was probably a virus. I was released. A couple of days later I started feeling better. And then Sunday another fever crept up and up to 100.4. At 8pm I got a call from the ER saying that the blood culture they did had come back positive for bacteria in the blood, and I must get back to the ER immediately because I could be septic, especially since I had a fever again. When I got to the ER the triage nurse used one of those ear thermometer machines and it said 98.4, I said no way. She was not amused. You’re not supposed to question a machine’s readings evidently. By the time I got back to an exam room my temp was 101.9 - and all the alarm bells went off – well not exactly. It took 2 hours before they put an IV in, or do any of the repeat bloodwork. And of course a repeat chest x-ray and ekg – just in case. I thought - this is going to be a lonnnnggggg night. I didn’t know how long. The ER doctor came in and said I would be admitted. I was just about to be taken to a room around 2am when she came back in and said: We actually think you have an Urinary Tract Infection. My reply: And I have to be admitted for that!? She nodded, probably because of my long medical history, and only one good kidney, and still that possibility of blood bacteria. So down the halls of the circus tent we went…

I am “allergic” to a lot of antibiotics, so I’m not only an enigma with this fever of unknown origin, I am difficult patient to treat. They can’t just throw the “usual” at me and send me out the door. And since the blood culture didn’t make it clear what bacteria they were treating, they weren’t sure what antibiotic on my short list to try. Nothing like playing Russian Roulette with antibiotics… Anxiety arose as I felt the juggling act begin.

After arriving in my hospital room I underwent a rather lengthy intake interview with the nurse who asked all kinds of silly questions, like – are you feeling neglected? My husband is sitting there. It’s nearing 3am. He needs to get home and get sleep. I just laughed and said are you kidding? She seriously looked at me and said no, as she continued to read the silly questions from her computerized list.

The Infectious Disease doctor came to see me during daylight hours. He evidently doesn’t like the night circus. I understand… He seemed like one of the only sane ones there. He said that if a blood culture doesn’t grow any bacteria in 3 days, and comes back positive after 5 days, then it’s usually a contaminated specimen. It would have been nice if the ER people knew that before they hit the alarm bell. And yet, I was obviously still very sick. He wasn’t convinced that it was “just” a UTI. He suggested other things and diagnostic tests ensued – more juggling.

My nurse for the day came to my room that first morning looking worse than I felt, and was not miss congeniality. Nurses have become more like automated specialized technicians, pushing around their computerized charting system on wheels and dispensing meds – looking a little like robots in a sci-fi flick. She came in, wrote her name on the white board and turned to leave the room without saying a word. Hello! I said, I have a question please. You have to catch these nurses when you can. I needed to know how to get a hold of registration to give them my insurance information – to make sure my admission had been authorized. I was curtly told that she knew nothing about insurance, that she had nothing to do with insurance. I don’t recall that that was my question, but hey, it was 7am and she looked like she’d been up for several days, so maybe her brain switch wasn’t on yet. I mumbled something unkind under my breath as she left the room. The circus lasted 3 days, like an unpleasant dream. I met a lot of interesting characters in the dream. Some attentive, competent, compassionate and caring, and one with a big heart, who engaged, made eye contact, and genuinely liked what she was doing. Ah – there’s always one.

It was all very surreal. On the one hand it seemed very real - physical body in crisis. On the other, it was like it wasn’t really happening, like I was just floating through it all. But, because of being fearful of the “medical circus,” I contracted into the fear dream. It was automatic. I was not thinking: “I am BEingness just having this experience,” or blissfully sensing BEingness, stepping back from the story that was taking place. No, it was just a head long dive into madness – contracting into fear and separation. It was soooo automatic. Until the third day.

Before I found out I was to be discharged that afternoon, even though still feeling quite ill – actually worse than when I went in - probably due to the antibiotics - I managed a wonderful “window sit” in my room. Wish I had been able to get a picture of my view: another wing of the hospital with strange looking architecture. Angled walls that protruded outwards in stair step fashion with small square windows and round vents on one side that let the light through at night – which was actually strangely soothing; little openings where the Light got through to remind me It was still there, even in the darkness. And if I put my chair close up to the window, leaned on the window sill and looked west, I could see the mountains against the back drop of a beautiful blue sky and puffy white clouds. Ah - there’s the sanity. I recognized it… I breathed it in, and tried to move into what the body was feeling, to just be with it, rather than fearing it. I sat with the fear in my gut and its constriction – with the whole body laboring under illness - trying to feel the space of Stillness beyond/within it all. For just a brief moment I felt it and the body relaxed… A brief respite from the circus…

Life in a body. :)

~

Photo: Close up of Glass Blown Ball

Flattened

Last Weds evening this body was flattened by chemical exposure to a huge dose of liquid lawn fertilizer. No, not the rabbit, me. I was standing at the kitchen window, preparing dinner, as the lawn guy was waving his magic wand. I should have known better than to take that free offer for “Hydro Wet.” The wind was blowing directly at the house. As the strong smell of nitrogen wafted through the window I became nauseous, light-headed and vision blurred. We shut all windows and put the A/C on, but by that time the smell was in the house. I evidently got more than this body could handle and spent the next several days unable to function; not only physically, but mentally, emotionally and spiritually - as toxins coursed through this body. I was literally flattened on all levels.

It seems that *all* of our faculties (body, mind, sensing, and feeling) are involved in awareness, in knowing our Beingness. They’re all inseparable from the Whole - I know. But it was as if “Elvis had left the building.” I could not *feel* my Self embodied in this body. It was as if “I” had receded somewhere. But where did “I” go, I wondered as I lay there like a passenger on a ship rocking in a raging sea. It was like having an out-of-body experience that wasn’t “fun.” And all I could do was go through it – I’m still not all the way through. I wondered if that was what dying felt like - and hoped not. It took quite a bit of conscious awareness, and several days to *feel* *grounded* in the ground of Being again, through energy work and Rescue Remedy, lots of water, deep rest, and stillness. And “I” is still not “all in” let’s say. Body has definitely been shocked and is out of whack, energies warped, life rhythms wobbling, and unable to maintain harmony. Mental acuity is lessened – what’s left of it, as it has been waning anyway – but noticeably so… :) The body feels seriously compromised…

Throughout all this I felt “pressured” to “get better” because of family needs – and my mother’s innocent comment that “we need to get you better,” which didn’t help in the healing process, because I couldn’t relax and just be with it, just let it take its course. I kept telling myself, I need to get better - like I had any control over it. My disabled sister with severe back pain and elderly mother are 30 minutes away… Not good. I felt the full weight of the responsibility, but could not make the body function – of course – and no “miracles” were forthcoming… I thought, we definitely need to find some alternative, pragmatic solutions to “what is” – to the way life is at the moment, since none of us are functioning very well these days. This “care-giving” that my sister and I share, when she’s not flattened by her back issues, is fortunately not literal care-taking, but more taxi drivers for appointments, errand girls, grocery shoppers, kitty box scoopers, meal makers, trash taker outers, and just about anything that needs doing - being available – on call - for whatever is needed… I know many of you can relate to this too. But this body can’t keep going at this pace; and obviously neither can my sister’s. This body can’t be available all the time, as this is also what has weakened this body that is already compromised with health issues. “Getting better” is only a relative term for me. I know there are many who can relate…

During this “event” ego arose with its conditioning big time – which actually surprised me. “Ego”/me never really goes away, as some myths would have us believe. It is also inseparable from the Whole. But I was surprised that it could so easily regain control. It was as if I regressed to a former state. Personality traits that I hadn’t resorted to in years suddenly reared their ugly heads. I could blame it on the chemicals affecting my brain, liver, kidneys, etc., but I think there was a deeper “release” going on here.

Ego seemed to operate more in this state of body trauma, as this body mechanism struggled to rebalance itself. How easily that occurs when body feels threatened, I discovered. I went through denial, anger, pissyness, bitch queen, resistance, trying to create a different outcome, and finally a tiny surrender to the way things are – but not completely. I still felt pressured to “hurry up” and “get better” – for my family’s sake. I had a serious “One-on-One” conversation with the “One” that runs this body mechanism that I needed to be 100% “better” by Monday - the victimy, demanding bargaining stage. But I’m not in control here. That is obvious. The body and the “One” have their own ways.

I will say, it was seen again, at the window one night, that there *is* something here beyond the body mechanism that *wants* to live, to be Alive – that IS Alive here, and somehow sustains this body – so far…

~ ♥ ~

Body Wisdom and Obsession...

After a strenuous week I decided to put the hammock up on Saturday and spend some relaxing time out in the back yard, listening to the birds, the breeze, the highway traffic, the lawn mowers, the dogs barking, and the little water fountain on our back patio. Heh, heh, heh… Oh yeah, sweet swinging relaxation…

I sat my butt in it, noticing that 20 pounds extra makes a difference in agility getting in the thing – feeling more like a small, eldering (my new word for aging :), beached whale floundering around on the sand. I was adjusting myself in it, when I heard this rip sound as all the ropes across the top gave way, and felt myself start to fall. My legs were already in the air, and I had started to sit up, which meant that my lumbar spine took the brunt of the fall – thud. Oh-oh… sH_t!!! Amazing how a short fall can feel like it’s taking forever. And yet I was surprised when I hit the ground with a jolt. It couldn’t have been more than a foot, foot and a half at the most. And it happened so quickly! I landed on dirt with rocks in it – no soft, fluffy grass. “We” :) had set it up near the end of the patio so I could hear the water fountain.

Immediately there was a twinge of fear, as I was born with a form of spina bifida between Lumbar 5, the last lumbar vertebrae, and the Sacrum. That left an opening in the spinal column, leaving the spinal cord vulnerable. In a split second this body could have been paralyzed. Whoa. There’s a fearful thought. But legs were working. I could stand up, walk, no sharp shooting pains, although I knew my spine took the hit pretty hard, so I grabbed the soft ice gel pack out of the freezer and headed for the couch. Who knew that a hammock mishap could potentially ruin your day – maybe even your life. How easily life could have drastically changed in one instant. You know this somewhere inside, that life changes, that it *will*change, no state is permanent, including the physical state, but when you experience first hand the possibility of how quickly life can change, it hits with a sense of shock – and, for me, fear. Oh the joys of being in a body.

And then you see that Who/What “you” are is still being you, “you” are still functioning –or is it that your body is being functioned. You see that “you” are still being animated by that which animates life. The trick is not to *think* you are your body, to not identify yourself as *my* body, to not let your body define you… Although when the body gets hit with a jolt, you tend to focus on *my* body!

Despite this insight, I spent the next 3 days obsessing about “my” spine, as tingling sensations went down both legs – clearly there was identification going on here. I told my-self not to panic – but body-mind didn’t want to listen – and body-mind crescendoed into intense anxiety. I debated whether to go to the doctor, which would mean CT scan and possible referral to a specialist, but didn’t want to make that decision out of fear, knowing that I could set things in motion that I didn’t want to set in motion – causing more anxiety. I wasn’t quite ready to join the medical circus. So I listened to the voice of Intuition, barely able to get through all that mind noise, which said - strong spine, no worries - and decided to give it more time. The spine is better, tingling gone, although still a little sore on a couple of spinous processes. And driving this morning was interesting – eeuu! Spent a couple of stops readjusting the seat in an attempt to adapt to body as is…

And the metaphor here doesn’t escape me either – the lumbar spine being the major supporting part of the spine, and a hammock that didn’t support me…. Gee, do you think maybe I’m not feeling supported!? That conditioned, fearful little me feeling like it has to carry the weight all by itself!? Oh yes – an old victim mind-set. And what about those old vulnerability and trust issues too? Trusting that I am and will be supported; that it is okay to be vulnerable, without getting hurt – more conditioning… I also know that a lot of fear is held in this area of the body from birth, so it was not surprising that fear and anxiety were released when this “fearful” spot received this huge jolt.

So hammock days are over. Not worth the risk. Don’t want to create any more life changes than is necessary. Good grief I’ve had enough of those already! I know – it’s inevitable… Who knew a hammock could be dangerous – or bring such body wisdom!

~ ♥ ~

The photo is from 2 years ago