a new day, back home with muy Emily, Amigo and Kiri. The gang is back together. My equilibrium is back together. Time to leave the words alone and focus on my imagery.
The positive aspects of Motor Neuron Disease . . . .
The ability to sit quietly in the garden and focus on being with nature. Watching as a small colorful bird alights on the neighbors very healthy and productive walnut tree. The bird, I have no idea as to what type, a wax eye maybe sits like me, quietly. Puffy white clouds high in a clear blue sky swirling, gliding, changing. Creativity at its most natural. Blossom breaking out to scream that spring has arrived. Bees out in force to pollinate. Eyes closed, thinking, ideas. Dreaming. Stephen Hawkins comes to mind. The focus that comes with MND. Extraordinary.
in my chair rugged up as the sun fights off the clouds. Truth burns through. The sun is the centre of our being, certainly of mine today. The great nurturer. A community meeting to attend. Then maybe the Royal Hotel later in the day. Active is as active does. A nice cold beer :-)
fire blazing but freezing cold. My upper body is a sea of itchiness. Watching Roger get through the first round of the US Open. Test cricket highlights. Now what? Ah, sun out, Leica camera out, snapping away, blossoms and clouds. Screwed up though, didn’t check the aperture ring :-) tomorrow is another day.
power outage around 4am set my BiPap alarm off. Luckily muy Emily is organized and hooked my breathing device to my wheelchair as I teetered on the edge of my bed. Every day today is a bonus. I cracked 70 in June and I am pretty damned pleased with achieving that milestone. But, on the other hand . . . I am distraught that muy Emily has a collapsed lung and pneumonia, MERDE! The cost on Muy Lover is intense. It truly pisses me off that muy Emily and Me are not fully supported by the Health System. Another power outage this evening, fortunately we are well set up with emergency systems, power back ups and supplies. Power out again midway through a shower, water freezing cold, not good.
is not discharged by any common rite.
What you do you must do on your own.
The main thing is to write
for the joy of it. Cultivate a work-lust
that imagines its haven like your hands at night
dreaming the sun in the sunspot of a breast.
You are fasted now, light-headed, dangerous.
Take off from here. And don’t be so earnest,
so ready for the sackcloth and the ashes.
Let go, let fly, forget.
You’ve listened long enough. Now strike your note.”
- Seamus Heaney