Monday, August 1, 2011

My Morning Journeys

Think, maybe, from Mordor to Lothlorien. Only at the end, instead of a golden elf Goddess played by one of the great actors of our time, we'll find a four-armed elephant-headed God born not in our time.

Waking is a Pain Thing. I wake when the dog muddles her ancient way up the stairs, her claws click on the wooden floor and wake me moments before my alarm. I lurch, dizzy with low blood sugar and low blood pressure, to my feet. Which hurt. I make it down the stairs like a rusty robot and let Dharma out to pee.

I hobble to the kitchen and grab an ice pack, a spoon of natural peanut butter, and take The One Pill To Rule Them All. I crawl into bed with the warm cherub who still is a baby when she sleeps. I navigate the impossibly stupid task of eating drippy real peanut butter in bed.

After a while on ice, I go out to the porch, wait for my sweet, deaf dog to see me, and sign in big, sweeping gestures for her to come inside. She bounds in like a puppy.

I make a small breakfast with eggs or meat or both, and a judiciously small fruit serving. I eat, and lie on ice while I see everything that anyone wrote on the Internet since last night until I am springy enough to feel human.

I drink a huge bottle of water to wash down the De-Crazy pill, the fish oil, the fancy Not-Just-Ascorbic-Acid Vitamin C, the multi-vitamins, and then I snort of the Flonase.

Ganesh (musée d'art asiatique de Berlin)

I retire to the yoga mat and spent 45 minutes gently doing things that are not really yoga because real yoga would break me.

I finish in the child's pose, chatting with Ganesh about my body, pray pretty golden light into places still aching, or just drink in the peaceful sweetness that thinking of him brings.

Then the girl is awake and there is life to live. On bad days, I am still in pain or couldn't make it through the stretches. On these days, I live out of time with rest and prayer and tears and writing, sometimes in a foggy sleep from The Other Pill, the Coma Pill, a muscle relaxer.

My journey's routine enough now to be a comforting habit. I work afternoons on the good days, and I try to relax through the bad ones. I have an amazing cocoon of love around me at home and at the shop, and you, too my friends online- all these Dear Ones bless me; You keep me whole.

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