Not Getting Easier

Samain                                                                       Thanksgiving Moon

from Bill Schmidt
from Bill Schmidt

Learned from Elisa, my astrologer, that the Hebrew word for dog is kelev, like the heart. Lev means heart, not in a physical sense, but as the mind or spirit. Not sure, but kelev might mean something like, a dog embodies the spirit of a human. This came up when Elisa spoke about the very passionate nature of my chart and its unusually strong emphasis on anima/feminine energy. We talked about love and I said the place where I experience love in the most unmediated, unfiltered way is with Gertie, Rigel, and Kepler. And, Murdoch. And, almost any dog I meet.

Bill sent me this picture yesterday. At my best, and I’m there more and more, I’d have the dog’s bubble, too. I admit staying in the moment is not easy right now. Maybe it never is, but I’ve been finding myself able to stay with the troubles of the day, not projecting where they might go, what they might mean beyond what I’m dealing with. This means that though I’ve been under a good deal of stress, I’ve not added a layer of anxiety to it. Which is keeping me sane in a situation that could spin out of control without much effort.

Having said that the stress itself does get to me, creates situations where I overreact, find slights or issues I might otherwise pass by, get distracted. I’ve found it hard to focus on what I consider work over the last couple of months. Yes, we’re approaching the two month mark, the bleed and the emergency room visit happening on Sept. 28th.

One of the benefits of leaning into astrology, even as far as I have, is that it gives me a new conceptual world to visit, a place to learn new things about myself. I need that mirror right now. I did my usual with a new enthusiasm. I found a reading list on Steven Forrest’s website and I purchased a few of them. Tarnas’ book was on there, btw, Tom.

Coming home from Dr. Rhee’s yesterday, Kate asked me if the visit tired me out, too. I’d asked if the visit used up her stamina. Yes, she’d said. I thought a minute, about her question. Yes, I said. It does. Finding no new direction, no new approach deflated me, made me tired. If, I conjectured, we’d found something positive, we’d both be feeling up right now. She nodded.

FortThere is also a more general, vaguer issue for me. As Kate’s life continues to revolve around pain and nausea, weight loss, it restricts her movements. She’s in the house, often in bed or in her chair or on the bench upstairs at the table. This has a centrifugal force for me, too, pulling me in, keeping me here. No, I do not resent it, that’s not my point. I’m speaking now of a more subtle influence, a coloring of the spirit, a darkening of it. I find myself tired, sleepy, more than makes sense to me unless I factor this in.

(friend Tom Crane sent me this from 2015 at The Fort, a restaurant near us in Morrison. If I recall correctly, this is just prior to my prostate surgery.)

Being with her on this ancientrail of ill-health is my life now. And, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love her and am her husband. Even so, there is a real sense of confinement, of loss, of sadness that goes with this pilgrimage.