Lughnasa and the Korea Moon

Friday gratefuls: Ginny and Janice. Annie and Luna. Shadow and friends. Warmish morning. Beets growing taller. Spinach spreading its still small leaves. Kale as well. Tomatoes fruiting. Growing. Waiting on Soil for the East facing bed. Marny Eulberg. Post-polio syndrome. Post-polio survivors. Like me. Her butterfly garden.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: My neck muscles that have worked so hard all these years

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah:  Hakarat Hatov. Recognizing the good

Tarot: The Journey, #13 of the major arcana

One brief shining: Bend your neck to the left, now press against my hand, bend to the right, press against my hand, put your chin on your chest, oh yes, you can only go 10 degrees to the left but almost 40 to the right. Thank you, Marny.

 

Health: Yesterday was post-polio day. I drove down to Wheatridge, a charming place to my surprise, with brick homes, old businesses in older buildings, tree-lined streets. Marny’s home was on a cul-de-sac with five other large houses. Hers stood out because her front yard has a Butterfly Garden instead of Grass. I liked her already.

She met me at the door, her right leg braced, a slight hitch in her step. Gray-haired, a bit plump, with a red t-shirt featuring an Elephant. A grandma, crone figure.

Inside a large open room with a tiled floor, a kitchen area and a living area together. Her dog, a friendly cockapoo with an absurdly long tail licked my hand.

At her invitation I sat at her kitchen table. Two old folks, survivors of the pre-1950 polio epidemic. She handed me some literature about post-polio organizations including one in Colorado.

She read my answers to her new patient three page form, asking me questions as she did. No, no surgeries. Yes, breathing support. Iron lung.

She had me take off my t-shirt and manipulated my neck. All this to create a prescription for the orthotist. A brace-maker. She showed me examples. Similar to one’s used for people who’ve broken their neck. I like this one. Minimalist.

Not sure how often I’ll use whatever one I get. Driving. Yes. In the backyard with Shadow. Yes. Because I tend to walk with my head down I run into Lodgepole Branches. If I get enough pain recession, while hiking. Maybe even at meetings later in the day when my muscles wear down.

I need to have it though because my neck has gotten worse over the past year. Maybe I’ll get comfortable enough with it to wear it more often.

 

Tarot: The Journey. #13 on the Wanderer’s spiritual path through the Wildwood. A little over midway. The Journey card acknowledges death as a part of life’s journey, the end of a life. I can take it at its most literal since the end of my journey has come closer and closer. True of all of us in our late seventies. A step along the way.

I can also take the card as a sign of inner change. Accepting my disabilities. Back pain. Neck atrophy. Accepting my prostate cancer and its own destination. This is, come to think of it, my year kavannah, my intention to live fully into wu wei. Going with life as it presents itself. Going with flow. This is where the winding stream of my life has brought me and I’m fine with letting this kayak bob and weave on its remaining bends and pools and rapids.