Gloppy Rain and Vulnerability in Everyday Ramblings

Stating the obvious, we are still sad about Leo.

And for MJ from OD in Toronto, who did not make the transition to Prosebox but is still in touch with many of us on Facebook. She lost her handsome cat Vincent just after. In this picture, to the left is rosemary, which grows well here and is a feature of most gardens, for remembrance.

We had a good weekend for that, big gloppy rain and dark heavy skies.

I slept a lot. Under a pile of cats. I utilized my fabulous Bluetooth headphones to listen to classical music and podcasts. I do have swelling but no bruising yet. So I am good to go to return to work and teach tonight. I won’t be able to eat solid food for a while so it is hard to feel full but oh well. Soup is my friend.

Considering that I am operating on a very tight budget so I can afford these dental procedures with all my insurance expended I splurged a few weeks ago and bought a high tech lightweight waterproof jacket that goes with my waterproof pants. I geared up yesterday and went to the grocery and later for just enough of a walk to get my step goal for the day in.

It is cool, my headphones fit under the hood. Granted it wasn’t blowing very hard. I am listening to my Great Courses program on Mythology and am now in Egypt and am learning about the three main gods that were worshiped and their relationship with the Pharaohs. You know you learn a bunch of this stuff in school but it comes back in pieces when one tries to recall it as an, umm, mature adult.

I enjoy getting the big picture and some historical references and then there is all the fabulous imagery to use in poems. There is that Lapis Lazuli again. One of the gods is represented as having blue hair.

I am still making my way through The Iceberg by Marion Coutts and because I am reading the actual physical book, I keep falling asleep when I start it. It is an interesting and instructive memoir about loss, not like any I have ever read. She is hard on herself. And very protective of her sick husband, so we only get glimpses of his journey.

What I like about this story is that she is not strong. She is a mess in a very human way. She has a young son as well as dealing with her husband’s illness. So much of writing about loss is meant to be inspirational, bucking up, celebrating resilience, when the experience of diagnosis and illness and death of a loved one is very very hard.

But it is also possible to be happy in the midst of it. We begin to explore the bottomless depth of love and our attachment to the other, the one having the primary experience. We laugh; we distill precious moments into memories of connection and affection. We are vulnerable as our loved one is vulnerable.

To spare others, we don’t talk so much about how much a mess we are. Just like I have learned not to talk about the details of my dental procedures in any sort of specific way. It is too hard for others to hear, their fears become apparent and it then all becomes about problem solving and comforting and not about hearing what the caregiver has to say.

So it is refreshing, not easy, but refreshing, this raw vulnerability.

Something I would like to portray in my poems without always summing up for the inspirational end.

We are still sad about Leo.

Last updated May 16, 2016