The git real estate came and focussed on the cobwebs as they do. Pointless and formula driven like a lot of the twitty ideas around. Cobwebs for goodness sake in a shack with holes in the walls. Good try, Girl. I couldn’t give a shit.
I haven’t wanted to talk to anyone except my Girl. And chats on the pony ride.
The first week’s medicines run out. Its ulcer treatment. Dad had ulcers. I didn’t expect to because of not drinking for so many years.
I haven’t even looked at the Moon this month. Its been full but I have not gone out to see. I am waiting. For some indicator.
The new motorway opened today and Urunga is bypassed.
Today, Neilo came and attended to the lawns and yard and my Girl came and attended to the inside of the Shack. She has a flair for it and a good eye and a ruthless streak which I need as far as getting rid of excess. Plenty of laughter and chatting and working today. It makes such a difference.
I have slept well for 3 nights now. Like a normal sleep. The weather is grey and damp but warm. I am still keeping a very low profile and not mixing much with anyone.
Tonight my rooms are clean and free from dust and mess. I feel lighter and fresher. That is one day done. Subtle but big improvements. The depths of change within me are profound even if as yet unseen.
People are dropping off. I guess that makes sense. I am in a world that is not as it was for me and I no longer quite fit in the world of the people I was with before. I am quite unwilling to attempt to re-enter it if it means pretzelling myself into a former shape which I could not possibly hold any longer.
Other sick people can handle me, like B and J next door. And the people in hospital.
Some people just fit. Like My Girls.
Eveningtime now. Blogging time. Smiling time. Just a slight song inside and a slight dance in my steps. For tonight.
BEING NUDGED GENTLY TOWARDS MY TRUE WAY
I might take another look at Van Badham’s eulogy for Izzy and see what wisdom is accessible to me at this time.
FROM VAN BADHAM Van Badham I wrote the following for his life companion, Lynne: Lynne, amidst heartbreak, be consoled that the man who was your beloved companion was no ordinary man. He was a leader, a fighter, a guru, a comrade, a friend. He was a man of independent thought and resolute moral principle. He was an artist, a maker and creator and a bard in the truest sense. Meeting Izzy as an 18 year old was the encounter that inspired the directions I took in my own life – artistic and political. He proved to me in his example that those who are as selfless as they are motivated have the power to open minds and effect change. He had the rare quality of the true champion – to understand the indivisibility of leadership and teamwork. He was good. He was kind. He shared what he learned with uninhibited generosity, he told a cracking story and he was always prepared to take the piss out of himself. He spoke truth to power. And he loved you, truly. He leaves love and good example behind him as he embarks on his next journey, and so he endures. I am thinking of how he used to treat his terrible migraines by trapping his head in a wire hanger.
And it makes me think what I should have realised before hearing this today: that he appeared in my life as some kind of sage, or wizard – a Gandalf or Merlin – grey-bearded, wise to the world, stepping out from the edge of a grey forest at a crossroads, and, smiling, nudging me gently towards my true way.
Cloudy and grey and just a little cool. I didn’t anticipate this life that I lead now. Just as Henri Nouwen wrote about. I do not know what will be next. I have slept almost all day again and am simply so weak.
It is OK. I am in the arms of whatever it is that takes care of me. I have tried hard and my energy is gone. My visions are dimmed. I sit beside the lagoon and ponder. CURIOUSLY, THE changes inside of me are comforting and strong even as my outer life seems to fade more and more. Its real submission. I have been here before. The battle fought and on my knees. It was like it when I got sober and clean. Its been like it on occasions since and now here I am in the middle of another one.
Each time I think that it might be the end of the losses, along comes the next one.
I have a lot of pleasures when I accept the simplicity of this time. My internet and the lagoon and my bed. The Girls when they come. The Harry Dresden books on Kindle from Jaybee. And the big gas heater. Almost everything else is a stretch too far.
And now back to the Blogging. Don’t know what else to do.
The point is, not to resist the flow. You go up when you’re supposed to go up and down when you’re supposed to go down. When you’re supposed to go up, find the highest tower and climb to the top. When you’re supposed to go down, find the deepest well and go down to the bottom. When there’s no flow, stay still.
“While realizing that ten years ago I didn’t have the faintest idea that I would end up where I am now, I still like to keep up the illusion that I am in control of my own life. I like to decide what I most need, what I will do next, what I want to accomplish, and how others will think of me. While being so busy running my own life, I become oblivious to the gentle movements of the Spirit of God within me, pointing me in directions quite different from my own.
In requires a lot of inner solitude and silence to become aware of these divine movements. God does not shout, scream, or push. The Spirit of God is soft and gentle like a small voice or a light breeze. It is the spirit of love.”
TONIGHT – A MOAN. WON’T LAST LONG BUT I SURELY NEED TO MOAN.
I make this request – when you speak to me or anyone seriously ill or with serious problems – please do not tell me how well I look and sound. That’s you who wants it to be all OK. Its not all OK. I am not well and I don’t care to have my difficulties diminished to make YOU comfortable. I hurt. I am afraid and things are tough. If you can’t handle that – please go elsewhere. I am NOT going to be gently smiling in a courageous and noble manner – so fare thee well. Let me work this through with people who know how to accompany me.
ASK HOW I AM. DO NOT TELL ME HOW YOU THINK I AM.
Also don’t promise anything. There is no need. Don’t try to appease your own guilt on me. I am not asking anything of you – please don’t offer what you can’t or won’t give. Its not your job.
I HAVE A VERY SPECIAL GIRL IN MY WORLD , eh Kaybee ?
I feel obligated much of the time to handle this well. To be of good cheer and fight the courageous fight. To rally and DO things. But times come for silence and privacy. Times of fear and worry. Lonely times and strange times. I mourn the losses and the shedding. I had an Alfa and a caravan and a wee street that I loved and its all gone. My garden is barren and the stinging nettle grows once more.
I went to the doctor this morning and came away as always feeling shaken and hopeless.
Its as if the concrete has been laid across my soul. Things have broken and collapsed and all bright hopes have faded away. I find myself quite unable to fit into the courageous sick widder woman role. Not that it matters tonight. I just moved a little of the troubling mess outside around – just a little.I saw the Doc and visited North Bello. Came home with Ede and the Lad. Slept all afternoon and I am OK. That’s as good as it gets. OK. That is good enough.
IT HAS BEEN a beautiful day. Like Springtime. And the evening is likewise sweet.
Patience – childe – patience. I guess it will take a few days at least to feel rather better. Each hospital trip freaks me out and knocks me about. I have varices and an ulcer. Its a bugger.
At this point the dusk arrives. I shall microwave some dinner and take the pills and settle in for the evening.
DO NOT DESPAIR. DO NOT DESPAIR.
I tell you – its hard. Fecking hard. To get up and make dinner. To walk around with a fatigue that is staggering. To try and hold a home together and be a mother and grandmother of at least some small value.
Ah well. I do watch the people I love and see them bloom. I have a lovely family. And we have been very fortunate. It could have been much worse. For some reason tonight – even amongst the unwellness and sorrowing , I am once again quite happy. Loosely speaking. I can put dinner on now and take the damned tablets. Watch TV and use the internet. I can read the book on Kindle which Jaybee sent me. Good as it gets and good enough.
Once again, the despair whispers to me. Seduces me. The profound loss of his smile and support – and of his music. The losses tentacle me. Gone and more gone. I am weary and have been uncomfortable most of the day. With some pain. Heavy medications and visitors and now I am weary but once more afraid of bed.
I wanted to do so much and now it feels like I am preparing to exit this world. That might be close or it might not – but it feels like it. Discarding and shedding and having much taken from me.
I wanted to make things work for my kids and grandkids. I wanted to do things with them and for them. I wanted so many things but like my Sister said to me in her last weeks –
My children will have to live whatever lives they live.
So , even while I am here – things are changed and changing further. Maybe I am OK tonight. Much of the agony has been passed through. The growing recognition that I am not going to be “fixed”. I am well through that. Sorrowing is familiar and lusting after outcomes is fading.
Today, once more was filled with good things. Ede down from Queensland and a meeting. Then my Girls. And our loving and laughing.
Maybe, bed will not be a frightening place tonight. The other night for the first time, I seemed to feel his fingers touching mine.
And then my girls come and we laugh. And hug.
I miss my Eden Kids and want to see them but Lord Almighty I am weary body and soul.
Well – damned if I don’t feel a small smile coming. It is a most interesting life.
is the transfiguration of aloneness, the defenseless interior secret core of a person receiving its overdue invitation from the moon, the stars, the night horizon and the great tidal flows of life and love.
Longing is divine discontent, the unendurable present finding a physical doorway to awe and discovery that frightens, emboldens, beckons and humiliates; makes us into pilgrim souls and sets us on some road that starts at the very center of the body, and then leads out, like an uncaring invitation, like a beckoning comet’s tail glimpsed only for a moment, but through its agency and onward tidal draw, giving us the strength to give up an imprisoning work, a confining relationship, even a perfect paid-for home, or all of our uncounted, accumulated belongings, and to get out on the road again, closing the door as we leave.
Longing is nothing without its dangerous edge, that cuts and wounds us while setting us free and beckons us exactly because of the human need to invite the right kind of peril. The foundational instinct that we are here essentially to risk ourselves in the world, that we are a form of invitation to others and to otherness, that we are meant to hazard ourselves for the right thing, for the right woman or the right man, for a son or a daughter, for the right work or for a gift given against all the odds. In longing we move and are moving from a known but abstracted elsewhere, to a beautiful, about to be reached, someone, something or somewhere we want to call our own.
A peaceful day and a lack of yearning. I slept and played and went for one short pony ride and a shopping trip and was content. Still am content. Weak and battered but content. Liss brought me fresh curry for dinner. O lordie me. I did not expect life to be like this.