Thursday, December 10, 2009
Yesterday turned into the oddest day. After my abortive attempt to get to yoga, I came home, laced up my shoes and tried for a walk. It did not feel good. And then it started to blow. The wind began to whip and the sky completely grayed over and when the thunder and lightening began, I came home.
I knew it was about to pour and there were tornado warnings and watches and so I tried to go get Miss Betty back into the hen house but she didn't want to go and in trying to catch her, I hurt my foot badly, twisting it just the wrong way. It was one of those things where you just stand there and chant, Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, but what what can you do? You catch the chicken, you go back to the house, you take your shoes off and you make your lunch.
I don't know about you, but when I hurt myself, I dump a lot of whatever that morphine-like substance is that our own brains make for us (thanks! brain!) into my blood stream and then I either get manic or fall into a coma. Yesterday I fell into a coma. I laid down on the couch with my foot on ice and the four dogs all around me and tried to read an article in a magazine and before I knew it, I was so deadly asleep that when Kathleen came by to lend me soap-making equipment and the dogs went into hyperdrive and tried to get me up to go see my friend, I merely incorporated the entire event into a dream and slept some more.
I managed to make some supper for Mr. Moon and me and then I laid on the couch some more and watched a fairly inane movie, but one with full male frontal nudity (Forgetting Sarah Marshall) and that was odd, too. I don't usually sit long enough to watch an entire movie but there I was, foot on ice, doing just that. And there was full male frontal nudity and I had heard what's-his-face, the guy who displayed the nudity, on NPR describing how he got ready for that scene and how he didn't want to be totally, well, excited, but then he didn't want to look like he had nothing there at all, either and so he thought about sexy things and then his grandmother or maybe the dictionary, I don't really remember, but it worked, I would say, after seeing the movie. He was impressive enough without being scary or getting an X-rating.
Do you get where I'm going here?
Boo-haa. It's gray and chilly again. Thank goodness that Owen is coming over today. Thank goodness and Goddess and God, too, if that's where you go, because I need that boy. I need to feel his little body in my arms and I need to love on him. I feel the damp, cold crazies creeping up around me and trying to get at me and the world is spinning on, twisting in on itself like the winter-dead wisteria
with its whacked-out hysteria, and I'm supposed to give a shit that it's Christmas and probably do something for humanity like, oh, I don't know, bathe the dying, but really, I'm just trying to hang on. And Owen will give me something so very real to hang on to. I can't wait to get him this afternoon. I can't wait.
I have bathed the dying before, or at least cleaned the dying's ass and believe me- it did not make me feel uplifted or good. It made me despair that death and its precursors are so fucking cruel. I would rather change the diaper of the baby and make him smile while I am doing it, make him all cozy and sweet and again, lift him up and hold him to me, smell his head, give him whatever he needs, wonder at his beauty, be grateful beyond measure for his presence in my life.
And I will get to do that.
And I'm going to call Lon and wish him happy birthday and I'll cry.
I always cry when I talk to Lon because he's that sweet. Our dear friend Lon, husband of my dear friend Lis and between them they know everything in the world and can do anything. Here is a place where you can go and buy Lon's CD or just listen to a little of it. It's one of my very favorite CD's ever made and I'm not just saying that. Go listen. Think about Lon, be glad he was born. I sure am. And I'm so glad I know him, so glad that he and Lis met and fell in love so many years ago and together have created so many beautiful things, including a life together which is more precious than even any song they've ever written or sung together, which is saying a lot.
Yeah. It's gray. It's damp. It's chilly. The fire inside of me is not burning so brightly but I it's still there, just banked and ready to be stirred and fed by a baby, by a call to a loved one, by the promise of the spring coming in a few months, the twisted vines of the wisteria springing forth new leaves and then purple blossoms and it will all make sense again, by the knowledge that the weather changes, so does the mood, the spirit. Time flies, even as the morning sits in silent grayness, rushing on to warmth, to smiles, to me holding a baby in my arms, me thinking of a friend who walks so quietly on this planet that you can barely hear him but who doesn't need to walk any heavier or speak any louder because what this world needs is less noise and hysteria and clamoring and more soft, sweet words and songs. Less strife and more peace, less noise and more quiet sweet harmonies, less striving for the ridiculous, more careful reaching for the real and authentic.
And Lon represents all of that which we need more of. The world may not know it, but the world is lucky he's here with his quiet, purposeful footsteps.
Happy birthday, Lon, our darling Big Lou. I'll be calling you. I'm looking forward to that.
And I'm looking forward to holding that grandson of mine.
And in writing all of this, I have stirred the embers of my heart and there- I see a flame leap up to lick the light and I am feeling lucky again, injured foot, gray day and all.