Tag Archives: life

THE GRACE OF ENDURANCE

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Difficult times can bring out the best in people but in cases like myself, it brings out the worse. I’m full of anger and resentment. I would like to be in a demolition derby. I would like to crash and destroy anything and everything that comes into my path. I thought it would be best it I release that energy here. My vehicle is the keyboard, my weapons only words.

According to my muse, Caroline Myss, words are powerful. I shall pay heed and not search and destroy. I shall try not to burn all the bridges behind me. This is my crossing the Rubicon moment. I breathe, raise my sword and tap, tap, tap on the keyboard. “Alea iacta est”! The die is cast. What is said cannot be unsaid. What is done cannot be undone. What has lived cannot be unlived. But regrets and disappointments I have many. My soul cries in agony over them.

But what is suffering without a voice? Whoever made that rule that we must do it in silence? And how do we know we will be rewarded in heaven for doing so? Who will know and give us comfort if we don’t show and tell? The world is amuck, wouldn’t you agree. We are all in lockdown. We did it to ourselves. We are behaving like the animals that we are – panicing and hoarding toilet paper over the coronavirus pandemic. Then we need politicians to warn us not to take advantage of vulnerable and senior citizens in these times. Then there’s the opposite side where people are not taking the coronavirus thing seriously. They are still gathering in large groups. I guess they haven’t heard of what happened in Wuhan, Italy or Spain. How do we really know it’s for real? Maybe it’s just a movie on TV. Maybe we’re all on Netflix in the movie Contagion.

I think I’m suffering what is called depression. I’m sounding like Alex Trebek on Jeopardy.  No,I’m not depressed. I’m really just stressed and mad as hell. I’m venting my anger in a place where it will cause the least damage. And I’m as sad as can be. The tears are dammed behind my throat. I’m letting things hang out now. I’m not trying to be positive. I’m not sugar coating myself. I am not myself. I cannot pretend to be Wonder Woman anymore with her golden lasso. I cannot fix anything.

Do not worry over the state of my mental health. I am venting, releasing steam. I do not want to blow a gasket. This is my safety valve. I know we are now all in this space together. This is just the beginning and not the end. I am not in fear or distress over the COVID -19 pandemic at this moment. Rather I am in my own private fear and anxiety over my mother’s ordeal with shingles – her pain, vision and enduring the side effects of her medications. It is as if we are still connected by the umbilical cord. I feel all her sufferings.

Things started innocent enough on Feb. 8th. You get the diagnosis. You get the treatment. But it is not that simple. One thing leads to another. Pain persists through out relieved somewhat by meds. Now it is March 26th and eye complication.  Another week of her antivirals 3times/day to endure before she can cut down to smaller dose once/day for another month. The good news is she has recovered most of her vision in her eye.

I’m calling out for prayers to help her endure and tolerate another week of her medications. I’m asking for prayers for myself to be strong and endure to help her through this. Maybe after this, I can afford to panic over the pandemic. Praying for all of us. May we be safe. May we be strong. May we have compassion and love for each other.

TO BE OR NOT TO BE

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It is almost April. How and when did we get here? I have not had a moment of peace since I don’t know when. We had all that trouble with the neighbour next door in the fall. When did I not have trouble with her since she’s moved in 10 plus years ago? But this time, it was enough to call the Police Liason for help. After that I had a small corridor of peace. In December Sheba had her ear hematoma and infection. It was to doggy ER twice and a total of 5 visits in 2 weeks and a bill of $600 plus. The money was the least of it. It was watching Sheba suffering with discomfort and anxiety. It was 2 weeks of little sleep and worry. But she did come out of it with a tiny crimp at the tip of her floppy ear.

Christmas was peaceful and January uneventful. I don’t have a clear memory of it. But came February, my mother came down with shingles on her left forehead. We caught it soon enough but it has been hellish. It’s one thing to watch your dog suffer, it is another to watch your mother. Every time I think it will ease up, it’s just a tease. So I should learn not to expect it to. Maybe then things will get better if I have no expectations and keep quiet. Though I have been accompanying her to her appointments and been vigiliant about possible complications to her eye, it has happened.

I do not have self blame for not doing a good enough job. But I am feeling a lot stressed and stretched now going into the 7th week. Even with the Coronavirus pandemic going on and the state of emergency declared in this province, I’ve managed to do a phone call appointment with her doctor. Then with my mother, an in person appointment at the office because by now her vision in her left eye is very blurry. She could see a tree but not its branches. She can see my face but not my features. She could not do the eye chart at all. It was the first time I saw her face crumble.

The good news inspite of all this is we got in to see someone the next morning at the Eye Centre at City Hospital. We were reassured that this is treatable. It will be reversed. But there’s always a but. She has to be on antiviral drug 3x/daily for 2 weeks and then a smaller dose once/day for a month. Plus a steroid eye drop 4 times a day for a month. If you know my mother, pills are a big problem. She has so much sensitivity to everything, even tylenol if she takes more than 2/day. She always makes it sound the side effects are worse than death. And who am I to argue? She’s the one feeling them. Maybe it’s just the Chinese way. So what do I do when she complains she’s having side effects and should she keep taking the pills – on a Saturday evening during a pandemic?

Well, I did the *!#^fk twirl around the kitchen island a few times. Then I called the pharmacy at Safeway. The pharmacists there are my best friends now. He looked everything up and said those side effects are really not for that drug. Then he advised maybe I called 8-1-1 and report it. I phoned my mother to check her symptons again. She was adamant her symptoms were drug related and not virus related. Next move, page the doctor on call. She was prompt in answering and helpful with advice. Which was more important – my mother’s eyesight or the side effects? And with those symptoms it doesn’t sound like the coronavirus. It was not necessary to call 8-1-1.

That was the question I put to my mother. She is taking her pills. We got into a squabble. I lost my temper. She said I over reacted. I needed not have gone all to that length. She was just asking my opinion what to do. I reminded her that I am not a doctor. Any answer I give her could be the wrong one. She has to make a judgement about how bad those ‘side effect’ are and her vision. The good news is her vision is a little better and the pain is a little better with the antiviral. I reminded her that she could also call her other daughter, who is a pharmacist even though she is busy and there’s a pandemic.

So, I’ve laid out my anguish here. I was really feeling squeezed between a rock and a hard place. I probably shouldn’t have lost it with my mother. I’m stressed and stretched. She’s in pain and probably anxiety which she denies it. She said she is not worried and very calm. But she did yelled at me and I yelled back. But I’m still the one looking out and after her. This morning Hamlet’s ‘to be or not to be soliloquy’ was playing in my head. My wish at the moment was to be extinquished and disappear without drama and fanfare – like a firefly. It is painful to be in this world. I feel as if I’m everyone’s keeper and have no self. I guess I am a bit of a drama queen. It is not the Chinese way but it feels good to get it off my chest. I’ve never claim to be a good Chinese. I’m just flipping sad.

To be, or not to be, that is the question:
Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles
And by opposing end them. To die—to sleep,
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to: ’tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish’d. To die, to sleep;
To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there’s the rub:
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause—there’s the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th’oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely,
The pangs of dispriz’d love, the law’s delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th’unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovere’d country, from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry
And lose the name of action.

 

 

 

THOSE DIFFICULT THINGS

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The difficult things are so hard to do. I hem and haw, twiddle and twaddle, scroll here and there. I do everything except the things that I need to do. I scratch my head and wonder why that is. I think it is the way with most people – that is most people like myself whose first instinct is avoidance. I try hard not to get to the root of the problem. That would be another delaying tactic. Instead, I sit myself before my keyboard to start a conversation.

I have got a few difficult things out of the way. I am not a complete failure. I tolerated the discomfort of not wanting to do and did some paperwork, put it in an addressed and stamped envelope. It is now in a Canada Post box. My prescription medications are picked up but not put away. Sheba is fed. She is waiting for her walk. Other than that, there is nothing urgent. I can put away that uncomfortable ‘I should do’ feeling. I should hitch Sheba up and go for that walk. Fresh air would do us good though I’m not looking forward to walking in wet slushing snow.

It is evening now. The walk over and done with. Somehow things do get done. My tomato seedlings are all transplanted. A few chili peppers got seeded as well as a new variety of tomato called Sunshine Sauce. I had time for a 20 minute Epsom salt soak in the tub before supper. I’m pecking away on the keyboard, trying for a few precious thoughts. A few thoughts/things are better than none. My eyelids are heavy, my mood sober. Better close up shop till the morrow.

It is now a few morrows later. I am not really in the mood to finish this post but I will. I do not want to waste my already spent efforts. What I have learned is that spot between a hard place and a rock has some give. I just have to give up the thought and not be stuck in it. I’ve been repeating the phrase, If I don’t have that thought, how would I feel? over and over these last while. It’s something I’ve learned from Byron Katie. I ask myself that question when I’m distraught and in distress. Somehow it works. It disrupts my stuck despairing, distressing thoughts. A little calm seeps in and I’m okay again.

It is another morning. The sun is shining. I’m here tapping out a few more words. Sometimes the world Facebook gives me what is needed. This morning it is words from Anne Lamott on How We Endure and Find Meaning in a Crazy World.

“No matter what happens to us — to our children, to our town, to our world — we feel it is still a gift to be human and to have a human life, as long as we ignore the commercials how and advertisements and the static that the world beams at us, and understand that we and our children are going to get knocked around, sometimes so cruelly that it will take our breath away. Life can be wild, hard and sweet, but it can also be wild, hard and cruel.

The bad news is that after the suffering, we wait at the empty tomb for a while, the body of our beloved gone, grieving an unsurvivable loss.

It’s a terrible system. But the good news is that then there is new life. Wildflowers bloom again… They’re both such surprises. Wildflowers stop you in your hiking tracks. You want to savor the colors and scents, let them breathe you in, let yourself be amazed. And bulbs that grow in the cold rocky dirt remind us that no one is lost.”

THINGS THAT GO BUMP IN MY HEAD

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What I know for sure is I live in my thoughts/head too much. It’s no wonder my world is dark and full hairy green monsters. I’ve lost my love for most things that used to give me pleasure. Coming here to my sacred place is a chore. From experience I know that the tapping on the keyboard is my pacemaker. It will help kick my heart back in rhythm. And so I make the effort. I still possess that curiosity, the need to investigate and fix things. At the moment I’m still intent on fixing me so that I could live with more ease.

I haven’t quite master the art of letting go yet. I can’t quite accept the idea that I am not God, that I am not all powerful. I can’t fix anything and everything. I exert alot of energy and waste my intent on things that I can’t change. It’s burning me out somewhat. I do see that though. Hurrah for me for the small but huge recognition. It’s started me on the road to reconciliation with myself. I am who I am but I can choose to do differently. I do not have to proceed down the same well trodden but wrong paths.

I need not be so hard on myself. I have to implement the nurture part of the R.A.I.N. meditation. I am not good at self love but I’m an expert at beating myself to death. One good thing that I possess is the desire for excellence in living. The spark is ever alive in me – to do my best, whatever is the best at the moment. Today, I’m trying to get my head out of my thoughts. I want to be awake to the light of the day even though it is cloudy. With eyes wide opened, the unamed hairy monsters/fears recede.

So I’m sipping roasted dandelion tea. I threw in some freshly chopped ginger in. It’s a good combination. I savoured the taste on my tongue. Thinking and thoughts are always with me but I need to reside in the physical world as well. I need to move my body as well as my soul. I’m leaving the monsters and fears on the page. Their power over me is diffused as I watch the letters and words march across my screen. It’s time for them to get the hell out. I have lunch to make. The brown rice is cooking in the Instant Pot. All the veggies are chopped and ready for me. I still stir fry them with some ground pork. I cannot survive on thoughts alone. I need real food. That’s what I know for sure.

 

IN THE DESERT AGAIN

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I’m not God and I don’t have the whole wide world in my hands. I’m not and I don’t but I wouldn’t mind if I am and I do. It’s wishful thinking but what if wishes do come true? I’m feeling helpless and useless at the moment. I’m at the wall with nowhere to move. I can only take a deep breath and heave a heavy sigh for relief. This is real life.

So I am here, to lay some of my anguish on the page, the anguish of acceptance. I am not God. I do not have control of everything. I suppose this is the first part of the meditation practice called R.A.I.N. It stands for recognize, allow, investigate, and nurture.

Recognize what is happening;
Allow the experience to be there, just as it is;
Investigate with interest and care;
Nurture with self-compassion.

I’ve learned the first step of recognizing what is happening. But allowing the experience to be there, just as it is, is not so easy. I want to fix it with the first inkling of discomfort it brings. I can see myself getting into my Supergirl/Wonder Woman suit, all hyped up to the rescue and change the situation. There’s an urgency in me. I feel there’s no time to investigate with interest and care. I tend to berate myself rather than nuture.  I recognize what is happening in me. I want to change.

I am here, tapping out what I recognize and know. It’s been exhausting hosting all the thoughts and emotions inside my body. They’ve been in the wash cycle too many days , agitating and agitating. Now it’s time for the rinse to kick in and the dirt to drain out. I will hang on to the good stuff. I’m not God but I wouldn’t mind if he gives me a hand, light my path and point the way. It’s difficult navigating in the dark.

I haven’t been out in the desert for awhile now. I have missed my time there. I miss the emptiness, the silence and the arid air. I miss the seemingly endless time and the peace to heal body and soul. Most of all, I miss the conversations with God. His presence was all around me there. My heart was opened to accept and receive. Somehow every day life happend and it closed up shop. I have been sleeping on the job. I’m awake now and in the desert. I hope he will show me some wisdom and compassion.

THE QUIET AROUND ME

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Sometimes I get tripped up starting the day. The morning can be an obstacle course. I try not to get sidetrack too much, wasting time reading useless articles or things that I already know. How many versions of the same thing do I need? I try not to be obsessed about not being sidetracked. That can take the joy out me. I try to remember to do simple – just stop when I catch myself doing the repetitive and nonsensible. STOP.

Life is a little easier. The weather is a little warmer. My body is feeling more at ease. Sunshine is streaming through the windows. I’m tap, tapping on my keyboard, rearranging my thoughts, putting them in order, getting the kinks out. I’m calming my neurons. They misfire every which way. My keyboard is like a pacemaker, putting the impulses into rhythm. I can breathe again – in for 4 counts, hold for 7, out for 8. I do this four times.

The last few months or so have not been a good space for me. But there are some things that are working for me. It’s good to pay attention to the positive. For one thing, the pain in my hands and hips have been absent for over a year. Doing the work, paying attention to what I eat and exercising regularly have big dividends. It keeps my spirit afloat in the face of knowing that life is never easy. It goes on and I have to put one foot in front of the other.

I’m recognizing the value of my time and energy now. They are not endless as my years advance. Now when I catch myself doing things that don’t really matter, I stop. I redirect myself in another activity. I’m repeating myself but it’s something worth repeating. It’s a hard lesson for me. I waste and fret away my time and energy on things that can’t be changed or help me. For all the mornings sitting in meditation, it’s taken me a long time to get here.

I AM here, sitting in sunshine, in silence, listening to the rhythm of my breathing and the beating of my heart. I am alive. I am tapping out my inner conversation, the voice of all my cells. I should listen to them and the quiet around me.

THE HEART OF THE MATTER

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One of my problems is that I have to get to the root of everything. I’m obsessive about it. I dig and dig, trying to get to the heart of the matter. Sometimes it does me in. I’m worse off. There’s such a thing as knowing too much. I go into overwhelm. Another problem is it takes a long time for me to overcome an every day illness like a cold. These two are not a good combination. It comes as a no surprise now that it’s a huge battle for me. They take away much of my time and energy. Quite often I feel I’m robbed of huge chunks of life.

I see some of the error of my ways. I don’t have to get to the root of everything. They will be revealed to me in time. AND I do have a lot of knowledge already. I have to accept how my body heals. I cannot hurry it along. It goes into more stress and I into more distress. Everything gets worse and I go beserk. Not a good scenerio. Now I have learned to chill, just be in my usual mode of moping along, laying in the sun, sipping my tea, watching my navel, do a little of this, a little of that, and not trying to get anywhere. In essence, be the tortoise.

On the other hand, it is always good to rise to the challenge. I should not so readily accept my bodily’s inability or my mind’s disability without question. I should at least give it a good go without pushing too hard. There’s the rub, to have good judgement and to have balance. Upon rising in the morning, I drink my little cup of hot water with freshly squeezed lemon juice. I meditate to the voice of Mark Williams on Youtube. Then I listen/watch something educational and uplifting. This morning it was a lecture on Immunology 101 from the University of California. I have a passion for learning. I just need to keep in mind not to pursue it to the nth degree AND to put the knowledge into practice.

I’m coming out of my body and mind funk. The other night I gave up fretting, took a pain killer, laid on the couch and watched two episodes of Grace and Frankie. Comedy can be healing. Then I popped a sleeping pill and went to bed. Uninterrupted sleep is very healing. I’m not advocating medication but sometimes it is what I need to get over the hurdles. When all else fails, it is how I get over my over obsessive mind so that I can heal. Now that I’m unchained, I’m in a better place. I’m soaking up the sun in my space, tapping out my melody. Meanwhile it is cold out, baby. I don’t feel it, only the warm healing sun though the windows.

PRIORITIES AND GETTING THERE

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Life goes on no matter what happens to me. Nothing stops. The planet turns. People go to work. The buses, trains and planes are arriving and departing. Someone once said to me that men are like buses. If you miss one, you can always catch the next. We have one life. We can’t have another – unless you believe in reincarnation. Even then, it is not a sure thing. I rather bet on a sure thing, this one precious life. I want to live it the best I can.

We are one collective breath, breathing in or out of rhythm. I rather be in tune with the earth and cosmos. I’ve been out of synch too long. I’ve had a few aha! moments. I’ve said I would do better. I do and then I forget – again. I’m saying it again now. I don’t know what number this is, but it is the truth of life. That’s why they say it is a learning experience. I shan’t beat myself about another failure. I shall stay aware and do my best until I forget again. I’ve always come back and try again. I am a success story.

So here’s the thing, the stories we tell about ourselves. I’ve had to learn to tell different stories. The old ones weren’t working. They bought me down into a dark abyss. The walls were too slippery for me to climb out of. I don’t want to stay there. I started to call myself the little train that could. I toot my whistle. I switch onto a different track. I want to get to a different place.

So here I sit, still tapping about trains, buses and planes. I’m brainstorming and dreaming of new possibilities. I try not to overthink everything but just be in this moment. I try not to do anything and everything. It’s all right to be still and silent. I listen to the sound of one hand clapping and look at that hole in the donut. I will relax, breathe and contemplate on my navel. I will put one foot in front of the other till the end.

SAVING MYSELF

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Change is hard. I am sure you already know that. I’ve been trying to iniate a change to some of my habits but I keep doing the same things daily. Nothing. No change. So I sit with my discomfort, surrounded with my ever growing clutter. Being a clutterbug doesn’t make me a creative, an artist, a writer. It makes me frustrated, cluttered, clogged, pissed off, frazzled, exhausted. It’s making me sick. I am sick, tired and worn down. But is it enough to make me do different?

Here goes. I’m putting it on record. What is it that got me into this awful goddam mess? I’ve never been this bad before. Life happens and I’m frazzled by it all. What I realize now is that it will not get better. Life happens every minute of every day. I have to accept it and learn how to chill with it. I see that I’m operating in only 2 modes – stagnant and emergency. My brain is stuck in these 2, arrest or fibrillation. It has no rhythm. How will I calm this organ of mine? What can I do?

So here I sit, tapping, an acupressure treatment of some sort. This is my version of  Temple Grandin’s ‘squeeze box‘. I am a hypersensitive person in emergency mode, needing calming. I’m up to the task. It is not my fault but it is up to me to fix it. I am in charge of my body and I haven’t been in it, always seeking escape through whatever route available. I’m often lost in thought, other people’s problems, social media, unrelentless search of knowledge, etc. Often I am not even aware of it, but I am now. I need to come home to myself.

I’ve lost much of my pleasure in doing. So much time and energy spent frivolously on things that don’t mean a squat. I don’t spend much time in physical pleasures, in the sensual, in the slowness of real living, in looking at the beauty of dust mote in sunbeam. I’ve been riding ambulances and firetrucks, chasing emergencies and fires when there was none. It’s time to stop and come back to clean house and home. There will be many times when that siren will wail and I will want to follow. I’m remembering the safety procedures spiel on planes before take off. I’m seeing the oxygen masks dropping down. I know to put the mask on myself first before tending to another. That’s what I will do – BREATHE – before anything else.

I will figure it out. Change is hard. I can change and have. It just feels I haven’t. Tomorrow is another day and I will make another change.

 

THERE’S ALWAYS A TOMORROW

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My cough goes on though less harsh and frequent. I’ve been distracted, obsessed and more than useless these past week.  Going into week 2 now. I might be hard on myself but that’s how it is. I’m also easier on myself than usual. I’ve dropped things, not keeping up, letting them go. However, my brain and thoughts keep beating on. That’s how I am. No use berating myself for being my natural self. I’ve already cursed myself enough for my past stupidity.

Yes, I know. I have to be kinder to myself. I am. There’s so much to be said for hindsight. Wisdom comes from living and making mistakes. When I know better, I do better. Now I do loving kindness for myelf. Hence, letting all insignicants drop from my shoulders while I try to rest and heal. Nature seems to know when it’s a good time. Both the guy and I had a stressful fall with our less than desirable neighbour. She knows how to create drama and then some. Somehow we moved through it. We had a walk to put in and the front yard to landscape. There was a lot of physical work and mental stress to push through.

We had a little reprieve after that.  Then Sheba came down with a big ear infection and hematoma. Two visits to the dog ER, 5 visits to the vet clinic in total. 3 ear aspirations. A stoned dog.  Then an anxious dog motoring around bumping into things with her head cone. Staying up all night with her.Going out with her numerous times in the middle night. No sleep for 2 weeks. It turned out well in the end. Sheba still has her ear. It looks almost as good as ever – just a tiny hard ridge at the tip. She is still as spunky as ever. The vetinary bill was not too bad.

We got through Christmas, then New Year. We had no time to get sick. But then, the guy got sick. I was very careful, avoiding, not overdoing, drinking lots of fluids, etc. But there was no getting away. We had absorbed all that stress into our body. I guess we had to let it pass through. That’s my theory anyways. I’m sticking to it. I hope I feel better enough to go to my Buddhusim class tomorrow. I’ve stacked up on Fisherman’s lozenges and I’ll take my hot water. It’s good for the cough. Cold water does zilch.

I’m thinking about getting the house in order. It’s my most pain in the ass. I’m not killing myself over it. I’m not doing anything at all. I hear Sheba shaking her ears. It’s almost her eating time. Will do that and then make myself a cup of tea and sit in the sun. Tomorrow is another day. It’s a good thing there’s always a tomorrow. The end.