The Spiral Path

Photo credit: Ram Joshi

Photo credit:
Ram Joshi

The path to Healing is a slant path, a curved path, a spiral path. The doctors’ scalpels, their lasers, get straight to the problem. But the body heals in curves.

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Second Chance

Photo credit:  Kurt Bauschardt

Photo credit:
Kurt Bauschardt

My cat opens her sinewy jaws and releases a still-living chickadee into the rafters of my home. A day like any day, flitting about, white wing tips flick-flick-flicking, “tit tit” calls amongst the flock – until BAM! Fetid carnivorous fangs closed on her neck. Continue reading

Radical Transformation

Photo:  Daniel Garcia Neto

Photo:
Daniel Garcia Neto

Scientific American explains how a caterpillar metamorphoses: ” If you were to cut open a cocoon or chrysalis at just the right time, caterpillar soup would ooze out. But the contents of the pupa are not entirely an amorphous mess. Certain highly organized groups of cells known as imaginal discs survive the digestive process.”

That was me after cancer treatment. Caterpillar soup. Like a caterpillar, I’ve rebirthed, using imagninal cells to organize my new, second life. My new life bears some semblance to my former life, but Nothing Is The Same as Before.

Shape Shifting

Photo Credit: screenpunk

Photo Credit: screenpunk

I stood on the edge of the cliff, knowing that to continue my journey, to fulfill my life’s purpose, I had to step onto the tightrope stretched across the chasm to the far side.

And I could not move.

For four years I teetered on the brink, paralyzed, face to the wind, tears running down my cheeks, KNOWING that I could not walk that tightrope. Continue reading

The Fourth Sign of the Zodiac By Mary Oliver

Photo Credit: Peter G W Jones

Photo Credit: Peter G W Jones

1

Why should I have been surprised?

Hunters walk the forest

without a sound.

The hunter, strapped to his rifle,

the fox on his feet of silk,

the serpent on his empire of muscles –

all move in a stillness,

hungry, careful, intent.

Just as the cancer

Entered the forest of my body,

without a sound.

2

The question is,

what will it be like

after the last day?

Will I float

into the sky

or will I fray

within the earth or a river –

remembering nothing?

How desperate I would be

If I couldn’t remember

the sun rising, if I couldn’t

remember trees, rivers; if I couldn’t

even remember, beloved,

your beloved name.

3

I know, you never intended to be in this world.

But you are in it all the same.

So why not get started immediately.

I mean, belonging to it.

There is so much to admire, to weep over.

And to write music or poems about.

Bless the feet that take you to and fro.

Bless the eyes and the listening ears.

Bless the tongue, the marvel of taste.

Bless touching.

You could live a hundred years, it’s happened.

Or not.

I am speaking from the fortunate platform

of many years,

none of which, I think, I ever wasted.

Do you need a prod?

Do you need a little darkness to get you going?

Let me be as urgent as a knife, then,

And remind you of Keats,

So single of purpose and thinking, for a while,

He had a lifetime.

4

Late yesterday afternoon, in the heat,

all the fragile blue flowers in bloom

in the shrubs in the yard next door had

tumbled from the shrubs and lay

wrinkled and fading in the grass. But

this morning the shrubs were full of

the blue flowers again. There wasn’t

a single one on the grass. How, I

wondered, did they roll or crawl back

to the shrubs and then back up to

the branches, that fiercely wanting,

as we all do, just a little more of

life?

Yggdrasil – Tree of The World

Photo Credit: Rune Brimer

Photo Credit: Rune Brimer

The Grandmother had been staring steadily over my right shoulder at my Future for several weeks. Continue reading

A Living Nightmare

Photo Credit:  cosmonautirussi

Photo Credit:
cosmonautirussi

My father learned of a dream-based culture that had a technique for managing nightmares. As an amusing experiment he taught his four year old daughter what that tribe taught their children about nightmares. He told me that the next time I had a bad dream, I should make the Bad Guy give me a gift.

That very night:
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Encounter at the Dog Park

Photo Credit: Sergii

Photo Credit: Sergii

She walks with a hesitant gait, still feeble, a peach fuzz hair as soft as cat fur capping her skull.  This is a precise moment, Continue reading

Things They Don’t Tell You About Having Cancer

Photo Credit: Macroscopic Solutions

Photo Credit: Macroscopic Solutions

There are a million, million things they don’t tell you about having cancer, about being sick and almost dying and being resurrected, and wondering if it were worth it since you feel like a dirty rug for years afterward. A million things.

They don’t tell you that it smells of sex at the root zone in your garden. Continue reading