Damn, I am happy

I ran 3 miles,
while everyone slept,
watch the sun rise,
choosing each step.
50 more years,
I feel I've been given,
maybe even more,
since now I am driven.
So on with my day,
home finally alone,
hours to float,
new freedoms to roam.

Ahhhh....

Ahhhh... finally... a couple of hours to myself lay before me. I've got my white grape fancy drink, the shades pulled perfectly for just the right amount of light, my journal with a pen that definitely works, the phone within reach just in case the hubby and bean need me (which they won't, 'cause I've spent hours setting them up for success), 3 fluffy pillows, the bed made, the ceiling fan on, and my new book right here beside me..... A couple of deep breaths..... and ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh.... sweet heaven here we go, I've got hours to float.....

new book: Way to Paradise, by Mario Vargas Llosa

No time for poems

My list keeps growing,
full for the next few days,
shapes and lines to follow,
matching patterns to connect,
mark efficiency,
Things to finish before we go,
Things to finish so we can go,
to Arkansas,
three days of lists,
thick,
heavy,
jumbled,
whose priorities?
some are mine,
but not for me,
no time for poems,
no time to float,
wander, to stare today,
only lists,
purchase,
packing,
school,
laundry,
no poems,
no favorites,
no time today.


RL: 5. (4/3/07, yesterday) 60 yds to curve in the road, inspired but sore

Patience

But of course this is hard,
I'm a lioness on fire,
To be still and grounded,
When so full of desire.

Wanting to sprint it,
Race the last course,
Break from the pack,
Leap with full force.

Of course this is hard,
Such movement's still pain,
Held back by limitations,
Speed never gained.

Must allow myself patience,
Direct strength free of sorrow,
The end will come sooner,
If I float through tomorrow.

Nine muffin

Finally something nice, lounging in a shallow river, a sensual woman stretches out before me. Smiles, laughter, says her handle is Nine Muffin. She visualizes nine crescent moons, complains it's too masculine. I repeat her words, but I see cup cakes floating near her chest, topped with cherries, so delicious. She likes this. I inhale deeply and wake happy, content, first in a long time.

Stop it

It's too late to take the poison out,
Stop crying over dirty pans,
Stop crying over coffee beans,
Stop crying at the sound of your little girl's voice,
It's too late to take the poison out,
Your bones hurt,
Your body's tired,
You're in for this ride,
It's too late,
Just let go,
And float.

Here and now

Practically manic. Animated, expressive, arms flying everywhere, eyes zipping this way and that. Legs are still, I'm still sitting, lets not get too crazy, this is all relative, but the fog is definitely lighter, thinner, less oppressive. Tired still, but not so weak. Slightly clear vision. Ready. After 40 weeks, am I finally adjusting to the meds or is it just the stars, the moon, the doughnuts. Oh, that's the trap though isn't it, thinking past today, adjusting expectations, must take today as today. Enjoy here, now, without worry, without fear of loss, without question. Float along, peaceful, joyous with each unexpected minute, present, observant, grateful, hungry.

Relaxed

I have been broken so many times this year,
Broken,
Broken down,
And each time I have crumbled.
What do I have to learn!
I'll do it!
Anything, just get me through this!
And I have released my arms,
Laid back and taken it.
Floating,
Half submerged,
Relaxed.

Counter forces

First thought this morning was 'Hey, it's Friday, hopeful 2nd 3/4 dose day', shiny horizon, glitter glitter. Then... wait... my head, whoa... is it that time of month already? What? No, I won't believe it. This is nothing... I've got plans today, things to do, preparations to make, driving... I'm supposed to drive today!

Hello, counter forces,
Keeping me on my toes, eh?
Well, all right...

Float like a butterfly,
Sting like a bee,
Bring it on baby,
Drop me to my knees.

I've got patience,
I've got courage,
I've got vicodin,
I've got pillows,
I've got this bed to keep me afloat,
I've got no way out, by choice,
and I'm not scared of you anymore! (scream mime scream)

3 nights of house dreams:

Always lots of people arriving, socializing.
Start and finish in the living room; clear view of outside porch, pool, beach.
House is either Victorian wood frame, tall and eventually on fire,
Or made of glass, low, modern and full of water.
I'm inside, then out, then in...
Each time there is an 'after' story of what remains.
I am curious, patient, open.
Usually I wake before the object/subject is revealed.

This morning I stayed. The house was made of glass, sleek, clear. Viewing its history, flashes of flood unfold. Now, I am listening to unfamiliar guests hinting of a big man's death and of the little dog's survival. The pooch swam in circles, they say, patiently paddling for days, through these flooded rooms, floating debris and he survived. He's right here, look, small and scruffy. Shoulder injured from the constant exertion, but all fixed up now, healing nicely, they say.

He's beside me, looking out through the glass wall, silent eyes full of experience, calm, present.

Ears beneath the surface

Long talk with my best friend.
Reaching deep into the chest cavity,
layers held up for inspection,
celebration.
Open exploration,
uncharted courses,
marking maps of progress.
Parallels surround us,
releasing caged moments for flight.
Surroundings clear of fear swirl swiftly between us.
Smiles abound,
hard to watch the clock.
Time running short,
children to gather,
afternoon to end.
Mud cakes remain,
dishes to collect,
evidence of the miracle shine on before me.
Five more minutes would not have been enough,
hours planned for later,
sometime soon.
Life is unpredictable.
We've plunged deep into the blue spring,
been lifted,
weightless,
will float on,
ears beneath the surface.

Come sun rise

The med literature warns of chemical reactions, doom and gloom, psyche disturbance (hair loss). I had planned to be immune to such follies, forgetting for the moment I was human. Looking over my posts, I see cranial cave paintings. Up and down flow the strokes, following the salty tide. There is an ocean inside my body, weather systems full of acid rain build and disperse. I'm just trying to be cool with it.

Woke up this morning floating in the boat, unsure of the reasons, thankful for the surprise. Still feel the usual pain and fatigue (man, I'm tired), but the darkness has lifted. Smiles flicker from the inside out. Come sun rise.


"...a story is a letter the author writes to himself, to tell himself things he would be unable to discover otherwise." The Shadow of the Wind, by Carlos Ruiz Zafon.

Daydreaming of a cold crisp creek

I take another long deep breath and angle towards an eddy. This is a beautiful place. For all the stops and pullovers, the water's moving fast. I want proof I'm here and I see it all around me. Time stops still when momentum is felt. What a bizarre and beautiful place. I'll lay here awhile before slipping back into the cold crisp creek.

What a long strange trip it's been.
Floating, down this one-way stream,
Water, splashing blue and green,
Wonders, I have never seen,
My eyes drift towards the sky.
don di de don, don ditty don, don di de don, don ditty don

Vacation Journal 4 of 8

Wednesday morning, 9/27/06

Dream works

Series of stuck dreams last night: stuck in waist deep mud, stuck in glue, falling building, dangerous weather, crowded sleeping arrangements. All scenarios were filled with weakness, confusion, fear, limited success. Till the final scene: darkened beach, wet salty air, crouching in the shadows listening to instructions. This is to be a special ops training (were the others too?). My mentor was also to be my attacker. He was to use all means possible to stop me, debilitate me, break me, he explained. Then suddenly the game began. I was confused, fearful, weak. Then I saw the raft. My husband stepping ashore, holding the rope line, the raft rocking innocently in the black surf. This was my target and I suddenly realized, if I made it to the boat, all of the games would end. No more pain, it would all be over, for sure. I'd float gently to safety.

My attacker raged against me, struck, clung to me. I couldn't get separated. If I threw him aside, he'd spring back refreshed. I watched the boat, had to touch it. Sudden fierce strength filled my bones, raised my form and gripped his strangled body high above my head. I ran towards the the shore. If I could get close enough, I could fling him aside and lunge for the boat. Husband watching, other forms observing along the beach. They couldn't assist me now, but they won't interfere. I'm getting closer and feeling stronger. There will be split second timing, minuscule chance of easy success and I'm fully committed. So close. He desperately strikes at my heart, I feel warm liquid, but no pain. I am determined. I see the boat.

Needless to say, I'm home today. Just me and the dog. I'm going to float along gently without all the struggle.