Spring and the Trial Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Melissa’s shrimp stir fry, chicken noodle soup. Some sleep. Sweet Shadow. Searching for the pony.

Rene Good. Alex Pretti. Say their names.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Sadness

 

Kavannah:  Zerizut.  Zest and Zeal. Enthusiasm. Risking a gray, homebound life. Need a push.

Tarot: paused

One brief shining: Shooting for minimal but still daily posts. The view from Shadow Mountain, a bit bleak. Weak. Fatigued. Fever yesterday. So. Tired.

 

Not sure, but here’s my best guess. Two vectors, intimate yet distinctive. The physical: Bout, tough bout, of constipation. The trial introduces prednisone. Several sleeplessness nights. Perhaps a g.i. bug of some sort. Limited nutrition. Persistent dry mouth. Side effects of actinium. (maybe) Fatigue induced by low testosterone, low blood pressure, inadequate nutrition.

The psychic: Hard to bounce back emotionally. The body. Day after day. Unrelenting. Little, or glacial, movement forward. At some point a week or so ago: Is this worth it? No. Let’s go with the downward arc. Let it be.

Eleven years, now into twelve of cancer. Blood tests, insurance hassles. A constant, significant background, sometimes pushing into the foreground. Like now. Jon’s divorce. Kate’s long illness. Her death. My grief. Jon’s death. Much more involvement with Ruth and Gabe. Metastases. Stage 4. Holding myself up, finding purpose. Yes. Also. So many points of pressure.

Flash forward. See physical above. Now layer onto that eleven years of shocks and upset. The two together. Reinforcing. A negative synergy.

I know. Stabilize the physical. Clear up the psychic by reaching back, towards resilience earned and learned. Recharge. Forward.

I need to ride this out. Take care it doesn’t overwhelm me.

Right now? Difficult.