September | 2020 | Riding the Light

Endings slip by like mileposts. Am I closer to my goals? Am I closing in on my divinity? This morning I tuned in to Joe Dispenza who says when the heart moves front & center, when the fear paradigm is extinguished, joy manifests throughout the body & brain.

Got it, thanks!

Adding another injury – as if one weren’t enough – I missed a stairstep recently & slammed backwards onto the doorframe, gashing my head. Two people were here: one an acupuncturist who threw a clean dishtowel at me after putting some ice into it & dashed for her car (sight of blood?); the other stood still & wailed aloud until I demanded she shut up now. Then both disappeared, leaving me bloody, frightened, wondering if anything else could happen. I called my good friend who came to nurse me yet again. She cleaned the wound, iced up the towel & everything went very quiet for awhile after she left.

I’ve no conscious idea what is happening here. But within an hour, I felt a joy come over me that I’ve felt before. I call it my “ineffable joy” aligning with head/heart to calm, succor & ratchet me upwards one more gear.

It’s been about six weeks since I broke my right arm. I pushed through the pain with Advil (me! who hasn’t swallowed a pill in more years than I can remember!) I literally found my feet amidst an outpouring of loving/kindness & support from friends who helped with cooking, emptying trash, making the bed, bringing books to read. The gratitude is bigger than I can ever tell you about: I can only share it. I can only promise to be mindful to offer this to more.

Heart coherence is an enviable state, except the envy would dislodge it.

Within a week, I’ve sold my massage gear, watching with no interest as my table was carried off, the supplies around this 24-year career disappearing into the truck bed & a check went into the box to deposit next week. I look inside, finding NO emotion around this event at all. I will either make it work without a career, or I will not. I’ve put my hand in God’s & said, “OK, let’s go.” I am shaken loose, poured out, running over.

I trust that all is well in my world. I trust I will keep my balance as confidence returns physically. I know that if I do not, someone will be there to help me straighten up. My body is battered & sore, my head scabbed over, my arm increasing movement by the hour. I have no earthly idea where this comes from; therefore it must be heaven-sent.

I have a feeling now that everything else is out of the way, my true work can begin. But this remains a wispy thought for the moment. With all the world moving around in varying directions, I can only watch from my personal catbird seat. Watch, and know it’s all changed out each blink. I can only get ready, stay ready, be ready.

Mother/Father/God: I thank you for all in my life. I offer my sore hands for your blessing, for you to place upon my real work. I do not bow my head because I know you want me watching the horizon for any opportunity to serve again. Allow me just a little more grace until I can earn all that is needed to return to you with interest. My healing is your manifestation of love for me. My friends are even more so. My blessing is a mirror of all you are & I must bring this through as powerfully as I can. I am emptying myself that you may fill me. I will be here when you call. It is I, Lord, a single soul of unique making; I speak for you, I flow you, I manifest your earthly work through just being. I am staying tuned to your words & wishes with the skin of my soul. I know your plans for me include all good, only love, active blessing to receive & offer to others. Show me your way; I’m tying my sneakers on, I am ready for you to enter my life more fully. I think most everything else is out of the way & I am clear to report to my future. Unburden me more, that I may walk with you lightly. The world gathers itself up behind me, already lost to it as you lead me home.

A daytrip resulted in a broken arm. It’s not too long a story – may I start at the beginning? There are funny moments, but you kind of had to be here for those.

I tripped over a concrete parking block (also called a parking stop, a curb stop & more.) It’s that concrete thingie installed in parking spaces . And, in a spasm of ironic humor, it was a HANDICAPPED block – but then, blue is my favorite color. We were in a rest stop near Silver City.

I have a mental vision that my body whipped forward in a crack-the-whip motion, my right arm & my nose landing simultaneously. I have a slow-mo impression of bouncing on the tip of my nose, my head snapping back to have another go at landing, this time fully face-down. I now call it my “asphalt exfoliation.” I could feel my nose dripping blood. Pat, my travel companion, rushed to help me, as did another man but before they could touch me, I growled, DON’T! I drew myself up to a sit, carefully positioning my face forward so as not to bloody my clothing.

Inside, I sent up a fervent prayer, Don’t let it be broken!! I rushed through the door marked Denial in my ringing head. I got myself up somehow, re-entering the bathroom where the water pulsed in a slow trickle. I looked in the mirror & choked. I dabbed carefully at my face with a rough paper towel. I figured, It’s done, might as well go on.

My friend & I continued to Silver, discussing whether to go to urgent care or a hospital. But I was reluctant. I asked Pat to fashion me a Girl Scout sling to support & immobilize my arm. I kept sending up smoke signals of prayer (“not broke, not broke, not broke”) I knew on a deep level: broke for sure. This experience was, after all, a revisit to a 2002 event in which I landed on my right elbow.

We had lunch at an outdoor table as (of course) all indoor venues are closed. After half a tuna sandwich & a fruitless search for a store Pat wished to visit, we stopped at CVS for an arm sling. The passersby in Silver City offered ice, help, care, directions to the hospital… We started home. I was in that space after a traumatic injury. Nothing yet hurt, but I wasn’t exactly planning on breaking out in the Macarena. The ice melted in my lap wetting down my shorts thoroughly, adding a level of comedy…oy! Wet pants on top of everything else.

Since I’ve broken this arm before, at the elbow, I had a preview of the immediate future. I groaned inside as my Medicare card does not include doctor fees, but relied on the fact it does include hospital care. Next piece of irony up: the hospital treated me as an outpatient so I now face bills in four digits for a 15-pound plaster bumper, a 4-pound “ski” to seat the injury into & no fewer than six ace bandages tying the whole thing together. I left hospital with an offer of oxycontin (NO!), a bloody-scraped face which they didn’t even offer to put a cool cloth upon, a CD of the break & a prescription for an orthopedist in Las Cruces.

I barely fit into my tiny car with my cement block arm. I learned that slings of any kind are not forgiving of DD bra size or having a straight neck. I adopted a tilt to balance the weight, learned to meditate about moving no matter how urgent the call to do so. Slithering seemed to work when standing up was involved. Dishes, washing, food prep, dressing, climbing the steps & descending backwards…

Friends gathered every day to help with all of the above. From feeling faraway while up close to my surroundings, I was gathered in a bubble of love & help that brought more relief than tears, tho they were not far behind as it turned out.

I am not even a month after the event. This morning I opened a jar, cut my eggs, buttered toast, washed in the shower (hair, too!). I dressed carefully in real clothes – finally free of the single caftan that I could squirrel into. I am typing with both hands, my right elbow tucked in close to my hip.

The tip of my nose is still pinker. My arm bears a stripe of discoloration which may never fade. My elbow looks like a small ball has been shoved into the joint. The injury – supracondylar transverse fracture of the humerus – heals well under the infrared lamp, constant Reiki & much mental conversation over the future.

My career as a Massage Therapist is likely over with this being the second injury in the same area. A whisper of possibly changing careers in these unusual times has become a steady hum. I finagled a couple of payments for the hospital & the doctor who earned $608 for looking at me, recommending oxycontin, insisting on a CT scan for what he was convinced was a broken nose, then disappearing to peck at a computer behind his decorative mask. (Since a CT scan would provide nothing to enhance what might become a prizefighter’s cauliflower nose, this I also refused.) Not a bad night’s earnings when it was early on Friday evening with the weekend rushing in. I’m not even gonna talk about the hospital bill. They could have admitted me so the bill would have been covered, after all.

Life & moving on. I am left to do right in future, to repay the care & love I’ve been shown. Soon I will be driving again – maybe I’ll get to Silver City to thank the people there, too.