Sick

I’m coming to the end of so many things: activities, ideas, belongings…One by one these fall away; relationships, favorite sweatshirts subjected to too many adventures with dryers, foods that once hit the spot.

So much has already ended: there is so much more to go. Relationships fall away; others come forward to fit into place. Clothes just wear out or my body assumes a shape where they cannot be worn anymore. Shoes I wore on sidewalks in Delaware don’t work on the gravel out here. Ya know? Just when I thought I had it all set to smooth, it turns out to be set to stun. I appreciate all the change as growth. Often it’s in response to a vague prayer made more powerful far in background of origin.

Last Friday I had pork. Now I have enjoyed the occasional porkchop. I’ve read over & over pork is not the healthiest meat but hey, I’m not sure any meat is healthy today what with hormones & additives & all that jazz. (Sadly, I can’t even be sure of my vegetables anymore. T or C is at the last stop of the food trucks, whatever color things are when they get here, they remain until consumed.)

This single chop followed a week of lazing out on processed food – a Salisbury steak, frozen pizza, finishing a bag of pepperoni I’d bought for Christmas fare…& the excellent, transcendent bacon Mario serves at the Grapevine twice in this same week. My body called a complete, total, utter halt to all of it. My body complained vigorously & copiously to the upstairs john about tolerance levels, helpings, preservatives & much more than I thought I had in me,  which is always the way when one begins the process of reverse peristalsis. I cannot remember the last time I was sick, let alone so enthusiastically. Was it time for a purge? I couldn’t just get a regular cold & go through a couple Kleenex boxes?

I was knocked out the next day, I laid on the couch & snoozed. I held the cat & napped. I went to bed in my sweats since I was too chilled to change to pj’s. I remained semi-conscious & other than feeding Fitz, did not go into the kitchen except for water. Oh, and sugary juice that claimed to be natural. But a little sugar in these circumstances is not forbidden & the pretend-tartness provided flavor to my thirsty palate.

Very unusually, I had an event that Friday night. The only drink available was coffee & I had a cup of “Black Knight.” Shoulda known better, as they say. Something named for a dark star & my thunderous stomach made no good mix together.

After a bout like this, such physical upheaval (excuse the term), I know to watch for Change – capital letter “C”. Yes. I am “off” coffee. Made a cup this morning, had a sip, poured it out for lemon ginger tea. (I can hear my non-java friends cheering.) At another time in my life, my mind would’ve convinced body that I need coffee. Would have pushed me into the kitchen to make another cup. Where will I be without coffee? Don’t we need at least one addiction to function happily in this life? And last night, I went to bed hungry after a half-bowl of my own chili eaten in good company with a friend. As first meal was a scrambled egg Sunday morning, it went down easily. I don’t favor going to bed hungry. There were too many lifetimes when I starved to death. I wear extra pounds to accommodate any ideas of starvation. The first thing that happens when you’re sick is you lose weight, so I keep a bit extra on the skinsuit.

I think that’s over with now.

If I can tolerate hunger, it is time to be hungry.

I wonder if all of this is connected somehow to my running for office here in T or C as City Commissioner.  I have declared & the comments are coming my way: “Hey, saw your name in the paper; Hey, did I see your name on the list? Hey, Carol, good for you!”

Is this all indication of letting go of one way of thinking for another? I say I live to serve, but of course I am more accustomed to serving myself. I volunteer, but I think everyone should stand in where they can help move things along. I have a great service ethic, like a great work ethic. Once I start with a project, I don’t let go – I may delay – but I don’t let it go. Except recently for a cause I deemed hopelessly entrenched in its own process of Ourobouros. Where will this take me? It is a completely new idea. In fact, I almost swore I’d never…

Ah! “never say never” echoes in the back of my brainpan.

Wish me well on this new idea to pursue. Wish me to be the best service person you ever knew. Wish me strength to represent those who are so locked down with work & responsibility they have no time to help in any other areas of activity. My friend tells me be prepared for slings & arrows & mud & all sorts of stuff to be dug up & tossed at me. I don’t know how deep they intend to go, but there isn’t much I’ve done that’s out of line. I didn’t come into this life to be Butch Cassidy OR the Sundance Kid. It’s a snore if they start investigating me.

I pulled a credit report yesterday – $16 & less than a minute of computer time. I needed it to find out where I’ve lived recently – because I’ve lived so many places just seeing the addresses is a surprise of memory. Anyone who has my name in their address book has learned not to write it in ink. My daughter asks my address whenever a card-sending time comes up. But I don’t see myself going anywhere anytime soon.

Ah life. Ah death. Ah taxes. And then there comes one more way to serve in a way that makes me forget all three others. I have the health, the intelligence, the ethic & the time – most of all, the time – to help care for others. I have a tendency to stick through to the end unless I perceive real cupidity doing so.

It still hurts to cough. I have no idea what I’ll eat except I took something out of the freezer which will be identifiable in about an hour or so. Maybe I’ll go for a salad today. I’ve lost a day & am out of time with usual rhythms.

I put my desk calendar outside to dry after spilling a glass of water on it. I think it blew away. What’s that say?

Of Sable Wings & Ivory

On a day I felt as if I’d swallowed a wasp

My soul, beset by angers all about

Found a maze of love to wander

And at its center, bowed in two, before a Holy Light.

All fear fell from me like dry scales

I began to luminesce

I took up the warrior’s wield:

The shield & buckler

An axe of war-torn dreams–

A sword grew from my hands.

Two wings flared from my back

I groaned at their heady weight

I flexed then to the ends of the world

And screamed to fly again.

The chocolate night unfolded

I passed between great heavens

Of chilblained division

Which sealed behind me, becoming warm glass

Developing a face half-weeping, it called my name

A blast of sound I rode forward into infinity

There would be an arrival: a choosing:

A serious battle

“You will bleed,” it shrieked

I gave no heed, flew on

Touching wingtips to the Poles.

I will not say it a dream

Or an impossibility:

A flight through fire

Singeing me well

My feathers seared to black, to gray

Ash drifted down to float the river.

When bared to bone

I folded them in whiteness

Lifting weapons instead.

I fought to brilliance

The morning’s gold renewed me

I breathed hoarse sweat

Rank & beaded in blood

I took my measure & pressed the Battle

Fierce we were, uncomprehending

To win war is to lose

Each of us the other.

We were brave, skirling the mountaintops

Like thunder, our faces mist

We bashed & clashed

Till, fought to a standstill, we

Balanced atop each other’s feet

Staring, down to knives & nails

We bled each other’s blood

As morning paled to day

The humans watched, stunned, all disbelieving

We were thunder made solid,

Caught in the storm of our own making,

My soul mirrored his

Till black & white emerged as doorway

Where all might enter

Searching Peace.

Carol Borsello

New Year’s Eve 2019