The Winds are Changing...Oddly, No longer Haunted

I'm here, and yet not. I mean, I am present, and yet not entirely showing you myself. When I first ventured here, I was spurred on by mysterious uncanny events, only eluded to, and only addressed in one post, which quickly returned to draft form.

I am not longer haunted by those events. And yet I am a bit haunted I realize, in terms of this blog. A bit of a see-through version of myself. And that's "flimsy", not "transparent", mind you. I have been finding my way here. I am glad. But my anonymity, blamed on the mysterious and not so mysterious, and on trying to claim a bit of place for my own little self, I realize now has been part of a process of becoming. I am becoming, am moving forward, am different.Like the characters in Enchanted April, in coming here, I removed myself from "friends and family affection" only to find that in the restorative afterglow of so magical a place, "I must share!" So it has been good. And this is a good place still, for sharing the thoughts I've come to enjoy expressing!

But now I feel I am ready to own the synthesis of self which has occurred and which is occurring, which I wasn't looking for, but which began nonetheless. My other parts shall not be anonymous...

I couldn't have done it without all of you! Without your presence, interaction, (dare I say friendship?) and certainly INSPIRATION.

I'd like to take a moment and highlight just a few special examples, very cool bloggers who've warmed my heart in the blogosphere...

Ms. Kathleen: Co-author of the WHAT DID YOU HAAAAAAVE FOR BREAKFAST Show, who inspired me to begin my own blog, and my oldest dearest friend in the world. Thank you, my sister. I need to be a better friend to you my dear one. Need to bridge the distance. Life is too short! (Congratulations to her on her new Photography Business, too!) xo

Amanda: Whose poetry is both literally and figuratively haunting, and whose newfound friendship is a miracle of the Internet.

Ciara: Whose blogging is transformative of place and inspiring of spirit. Her multifaceted talented & artistic heartfelt approach is one I greatly admire & certainly aspire towards.

Lisa: Whose artistry in great food posts, film spoofs and more are food for the soul . Besides I want her "Ladybird". Which is not in any way related to a Unicorn. (I don't think.)

Noreen: Whose approachable, open, heartfelt dedication to healing is inspiring on it's own. Her posts so often seem to be just what I need, so I count her as a miracle.

Puanani: Whose poetic views into life and into her garden are restorative, and whose approach to peace is an inspiring example.

Pamela: Whose posts in my opinion should really be gathered in a lovely hand bound book, rather than on any computer screen. Edward would deliver the updates just before dawn, or in early afternoon during tea or coffee.

Peter: Who as far as I know, has never visited here! But who has always been more than solicitous of my visits to his place, and whose humor and whose beautiful photographic chronicling of his England & perhaps attempts to halt time passing are a real draw for me. Thanks, Mr. A.

As to the Where, you are all welcome. Where I'm going if you like. If you want to know my identity, new "location", feel free to ask.

I will likely visit you from either place, whether you do or not. In that case, in some instances, some of you may or may not know me, know that it's me then. That's okay.

Circe will stay here. And though I will go on, newly blogging as myself, I will still "inhabit" her here. How could I give up this magical place with you all still in it? You who have as much as I, made this place and experience what it is for me? No longer haunted... but definitely ENCHANTED.

Thank you ALL! Thank you Amanda, Ciara, Lisa, MS. K! Thank you Pamela, Tutta, Miss Pine, Peter! Thank you, Bary, Ashliegh, MAGDELENA! It's in part because of all of you that I feel free to move onwards fullstop.

Sheesh...
I'll be around! Still Haunting you could say...

I just wanted to say Thank You.

The ORACLE has spoken!! ;)



:)


XOXO


Above image: Circe by John William Waterhouse

HOSPICE

Hospice Care

Definition: A model of care that focuses on relieving symptoms and supporting patients with a life expectancy of six months or less. Hospice involves an interdisciplinary approach to provide medical care, pain management and emotional and spiritual support. The emphasis is on comfort, not curing. It can be provided in the patients home as well as freestanding hospice facilities, hospitals, nursing homes and other long-term care facilities.

I got the call early Sunday morning. To come. Come when we could. The end is very near. Hospice has been called, Dad goes home tomorrow. It was his wish to be at home. I only wish somehow that he knew what was happening. I don't even know if that is the right thing to wish. The one perpetually in control, directing all things (my Dad, not God) is now in the most opposite of positions. Things are changing so quickly inside him. So many struggles, risks, battles lost, losing battles. Failing systems... failing understanding.

We drove 5 hours, spent 3. Dad slept for over 2, then our visit. Through his difficult speech he expressed frustration that he hadn't been awake for the first part of our visit. He hadn't slept in over 2 days. I was glad to let him rest, to just be with him. But like him, when he woke and his bright blue eyes found me there, when his face lit like a light bulb, I did have regret. I have it now.

I did not say "goodbye". I could not; not because I couldn't bring myself to due to my own pain. I don't want to cause him pain. I don't think he is now able to understand, though I'm told it's been explained to him, what is happening to him. That his mind and body are both failing. That he has had another stroke. That the pneumonia is not clearing. That his throat function is nonfunctioning, and that the months of struggling to eat, spending 4 hours to find a way to chew and swallow a tiny meal, is a cake walk compared to now. That his stroke risk and aspiration risk and choking risk and pneumonia and heart risk coincide with the, I'm told, inevitable shutting down of his systems, with his daily increasing dementia, which in conjunction daily decreases his ability to speak, or to swallow saliva, or ice chips. That his throat is nearly closed due to collagen break down from his leukemia treatment 20 years ago.
He is the strongest person I know, in so many ways. A less strong person would not have survived the amazing life he's had, would not have survived the past year, the past week. The doctors have said that the only reason he is able to speak, to form sentences, to converse and relate to us at all is due the fact that his brain is so developed, so many neural connections strong, so very brilliant for so very very many years.


I am certainly walking a fine line at every moment, in denial most times-- I must be, and living in the moment the rest of the time. Is it a sign of maturity, or a free and clear blessing that I am able to exist this way? That I am not superimposing past losses, fears, fear of loss at this time-- am able to think somewhat clearly, and yet still not feel a desperate need to over analyze and find a way out of this, to control it? I feel blessed. I don't feel mature. I do feel old. I am suddenly very tired. I break down more and more. I find myself looking for distractions, a few minutes here, a few there.

Thank you. Thank you. For being there. A few minutes here. A few there.

ne sutor ultra crepidam

It has all become over-proofed. Like the dough, too long, the yeast extended to it's greatest, and it's product, co2, has run out of space to expand-- poof... there is nothing else to contain it. Odd that what has been experienced as joy, and potential joy, life changing energy, loosed for the common good, imperceptibly perceived by all, for weeks, even months, should escape as grief...

After all, joy is not happiness. They are not interchangeable. My heart has been inexplicably full, and I have been grateful. It has been evidenced in real (however transitory) changes in my life, my relationships, my perspective.

And yet, here I am, in grief.

My father is slipping away... I need to see him, to talk to him, to be with him, and yet am not able. Obstacles, which I allow, and obstacles outside anyone's control, get in the way. I experience him alone, without him here. Yet, he is not gone. Not yet, but slipping, slipping...

My teenager no longer needs me like once upon a time-- I never imagined how painful that could be. I embrace it in theory, yet my heart... it does not. Not yet. I know the person he needs to become, but transition is difficult; letting go of a connection, even relatively little by little, to a heart that was once so completely bound up in your own, is painful. It tears at me, causes me to behave outside of the love that I feel, and I am ashamed.

My hoped for friend, friendship offered, gently proffered, is not. I can no longer. How strange that I should feel so real a connection to one who claims their heart is closed, that life is trivial, that no real human connection can ever be made. How strange that our conversations awakened in me a recognition of the freeing nature of sublime beauty, of tragedy, of interconnectedness. How strange that their words should be cosmically moving to me, through no intent of their own, nor any recognition. Perhaps it is my own unwitting perception of this human tragedy that made our brief acquaintanceship so poignant. Yet I believe, I know there is more to it than that.

I am an adult, not some teen with grand illusions, nor hoped for allusions... I am not naive. So often cynical in the past, I now strive to intentionally create my own life's reality, with that which is within my power, and yet. And yet.

There are things I am powerless to control. Such a balance to be struck.

Soon, the door will open-- less than 5 minutes. The time for peace, for pure, shoulder shaking grief will rapidly wither, the pile of spent snowman napkins will be thrown away.

And I will go on with the duties in front of me, grateful for this pain-- that it should find an appropriate time, that it should be released. For now. I will go on with my day.


William Shakespeare:
Go to your bosom: Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know.

Carl Jung:
Your vision will become clear only when you look into your heart. Who looks outside, dreams. Who looks inside, awakens.