ASI

#1 - Taking my hour or so walk (which has been my exercise post-surgery) around the southern perimeter at Theodore Wirth Park, including a small section I hadn't walked before. The sun was warm on my face, the ground mostly frozen enough not to be muddy and a couple hills got my heart rate up a bit.


#2 - Following that we went the American Swedish Institute which is a place I've wanted to visit for a few years and which I thought my aunt might enjoy. I had a delicious lunch there which included an artichoke, arugula and goat cheese salad.


#3 - One of the windows in the mansion (built a little over 100 years ago) was a stained glass depiction of the king of Denmark invading a town in Sweden and demanding the populace hand over all their valuables or the army (in the background) would come in and ransack and burn the whole place. Familiar theme - different part of the world.

#4 - I always find it fascinating to think about how many kids and at what ages women had them in the past. There was a family portrait in the museum from about 100 years ago and I figured out the mother had her first child at age 26. She then birthed another one every 2 years for the next 8 years. Then there was a break of a number of years and then she had two more at either ages 40 and 42 or 42 and 44. (I think it was the latter.) That is a lot of childbearing years.

#5 - I think today is the most I've been on my feet since my surgery and from 7-8:30 pm I drifted in out and of sleep. When I'd come out I'd think of the list of things I needed to do before I could actually go to bed. The list was pretty short.

#1 - Clear off my bed
#2 - Brush my teeth
#3 - Take an Ibuprophen (Cutting my usual post-surgery dose in half to see if it is enough.)
#4 - Type my gratitudes
#5 - Put on my pajamas

I only have #5 left.

Because I am Quiet and Healing

Because I am Quiet and Healing
I sat and watched the storm – the lightning, the
flash of red, the loss of power

Because I am Quiet and Healing
I left during a break in the rain, walked
my walk, slipped in a refrain

Because I am Quiet and Healing
I saw the rain turn white, hurried outside
to welcome the snow
that was actually sleet

Because I am Quiet and Healing
I felt the sleet soften
begin to flake

Because I am Quiet and Healing
I felt no hurry to return indoors, I did to
write this poem, and then I left round the block
once more








Magical Day

I am having a magical day
it began with a walk outside
not the day
but the magic

I am having an awakened day
the snowfall scurries left
then suspends
and shifts right

I am having a reflective day
quiet enough to read Rilke
alone enough for peace

I am having a nourishing day
licorice tea in my cup
now spilled upon my lap

I am having a simple day
nothing to do
no one to be








The Quiet
within the quiet
within the quiet
within

Letter to My Body

Dear Body,

Remember when we started paying attention to each other? When we noticed we are not me, even though we are one for now? Me an embodiment of you, you an embodiment of me. Remember when we looked in the mirror and took photos of ourselves? Trying to figure out how we fit in, trying to compare?

Remember when we decided that we looked better at 40 than at 23? But it wasn’t really about looks at all; it was about being able and comfortable to inhabit a space together.

Dear Body – I see how closely you are paying attention now, to the thoughts in my head, to the way I move this pen. M says his daughter grips her pencil too tight – a death grip and that as a child he did the same. What are they trying to hold on to? I, when trying to write quickly – when the thoughts come so much quicker than the pen - also must remember to ease up, to loosen, to breathe.

"I can’t feel the anxiety or panic when my breath is this deep," I told her.

I’ve waited a few weeks to understand, exactly, why I signed up again for this (writing) class. I think I see it here in this letter to my body.

Dear Body - in a few weeks we are going to do something unfamiliar and scary. You are going to be given some drugs – and I will go away for a bit, for a while, like when we had our wisdom teeth pulled. I went away for a while but then I came back to embody you. Things will happen during that time that I won’t know about, but you will, you will know about the incision, you will know about the bleeding, how profuse it was, if you and Dr. H as a team could make it stop, not completely – blood will keep flowing, but enough to keep the surgery safe. You will know what is said in the operating room – surgical room, are they the same? Regardless, you will remember in your tissues what is being said and I intend to ask Dr. H to tell you encouraging things – when I can’t hear, when I can’t remember. I am comfortable with her and I know that you are too. We trust her to take care of us. She is going to try to retain the uterus – you will know if that happened before I. I will try to help with some deep relaxation, affirmations, homeopathy to prevent excess bleeding. You can help too, but here is the scary part for me, the part you probably needed to hear. I trust you and if you think the uterus needs to go, I don’t want that, but ultimately it will be ok. You are ok to make that executive decision just as my mind doesn’t want to release, I trust you more as my body. I trust you to know and I trust the fibroid as well, the 14 week pregnancy sized mass inside of me – the birthing that didn’t happen, the space that was claimed. I trust it too to have a voice, it too to have a name.

Dear Body, you have done so well for me in this life – why you created this seemingly purposeless – yet not dangerous mass – that simply takes up space – space that other organs could have – that consumes and releases blood – that has depleted my ferritin - you too are growth in some fashion.

Dear Body, what have we grown together? A way to discuss a private thing? A way to dive deep into the well of wisdom?

Dear Body, you will know when the stitches come in and the mass comes out and the awareness returns. I will have to inquire as to what happened, but you will know, as you know now, as you know every day – what is going on inside me, what is going on in our world. You take it all in and I forget that. I forget that sometimes. You store things. What is stored in this fibroid?

How about all the blocks to our creativity, to our creative expression, to fully valuing that time? How about we say that is what we are going to remove?

Not in anger, but in willingness, in release, in open-handedness, in letting go.

To the Rescue

Because I've seen on both a societal level and personal level the challenges most people face in relationships, I've long known it was important to me to have a partner who was willing to see a counselor. My thought was that we would go at least once a year, just like someone goes to the dentist or the doctor, and then if more was needed, we'd have a resource to consult. So we began last year on my birthday with our first visit of preventative medicine.

Last night and today I was about as angry as I've yet been in my relationship, largely probably spurred because I am having surgery next week and I don't want or need additional stress in my life. So I am SUPER grateful today, that the counselor we've seen has a last minute opening and that both my partner and I are available to take advantage of it tonight. I really didn't want to go into surgery next week feeling hurt or angry and I felt at a loss to figure this out ourselves. Just knowing we have a support system in place to help us through this tonight has helped to calm me down immensely.

Also I went to a mid-day yoga class during lunch. Before class I was furiously scribbling down notes for our session tonight - about 3/4 of the way through class it had completely slipped my mind. Near the end of class some wild turkey came pecking at the door length window and I learned that one of my favorite yoga teachers is scared of them. I suppose that shouldn't be funny, but it was, she really doesn't like them.