Lughnasa and the Chesed Moon
Wednesday gratefuls: Tarot. Kabbalah. CBE. Rabbi Jamie. Downton Abbey. High level schmalz. Sadness. Grief. The occasional desolation. Lymph nodes. Orgovyx, stretching itself. Rigel and her persistent communicating. Even when I don’t understand. Kate, always Kate. Ruth’s healing.
Sparks of Joy and Awe: Jackie, my hair stylist, a sweetheart
Tarot: Two of Cups
Inner weather: cloudy with a chance of tears. Using my mussar practice for the month: what’s the context? what are the feeling(s)? how do I choose to experience them?
The immediate context includes graduating from p.t. on Monday morning, doing doggy things like nails and getting Kep’s allergy shot, getting my own hair cut, taking out the trash, getting groceries, having cancer in my left pelvic lymph nodes. And, five and a half months of grieving. Finishing up the Tarot and Kabbalah course. The imminence of the High Holidays.
What are the feelings? Sudden desolation. Mourning. Sadness. Frustration. Joy. Attaboy. Resignation.
How do I choose to experience them? The mourning, sadness, desolation. I embrace them, say yes to them. They are my psyche’s tools used to carve and paint and write a new vision for my life while honoring Kate. Visit a while. But, don’t overwhelm me. Unless, of course, you just have to.
The frustration, an outgrowth of my now 6 and a half year experience with prostate cancer, prostate cancer treatment, tests, side effects. Cut it short. It’s past oriented and unhelpful. Resignation. Resist this one. It’s a road I do not wish to travel. Acceptance? Yes. Resignation, no. Joy. Come on in, dude. Make yourself at home. Stay a while, a long while. I sure need you.
It’s been a tough week and a half. The PET scan, the bone scan, waiting on the results, the results themselves. I’m feeling vulnerable because of them, mortal. Also the strange road of the cancer that can be managed. A 2 year course of androgen deprivation therapy. Off and on for the rest of my life. Prostate cancer has become part of me, literally, and as an identifier. Oh, he’s the one with prostate cancer.
On Friday I’m going to have homemade ice cream with a friend who has ovarian cancer and is on her third recurrence. Cancer is a bastard, and still too often a homicidal bastard. A lot of progress has been made, that’s true, but not enough for the word cancer to lose its bite.
I’m achy, my body adjusting to the new med, Orgovyx. Even though I graduated from p.t. (no hat, darn it), I’ve not yet got my exercise routine back to, well, a routine. I keep scheduling things in the morning and by afternoon I’m too tired. Gotta change my scheduling practices. I’m part way there.
The first impulses to prune, to reorganize have hit a temporary seawall. Cancer, my need to exercise, feeling low. I got a lot done, a lot. There is still more to do and right now I have no energy for it. Makes sense. A lot going on physically and emotionally. Still, it frustrates me.
I want to get to a new life, a new way without Kate’s physical presence; but, I feel ground down, worn down with lots of steps between today and that new way of being. Whatever it will be.
When I took the garbage out today, recycling and trash, I felt weak. Wondered what it will be like lugging them through the snow. Then, I remembered I lost my snow plow guy and have to find a new one. Another task to add to the list.
It feels like I’m dog paddling, making a little progress with a lot of thrashing around, when what I want is the Australian crawl. Fast, crisp, leaving a wake behind.
Tarot: Two of Cups Druid
I continue to draw cards that focus on my anima. This one, though, may refer to the energy available when my anima and my animus work as one, focus together as lovers and creators.
I sure need this sort of energy right now. It reminds me to not follow only one inner path, watch the one the anima takes, then the animus, find where they intersect. Stay a while. Enjoy the heat and the power.
