The main thing about traveling is this… “things” get jettisoned- quick. Amazingly fast, in fact.
At first, the lack of baggage feels weird.
The other day I became so lightheaded I landed in an emergency room, convinced my heart had slipped
its moors. It (my heart) was usually settled heavy and firm on top of my solar plexus.
But that day it was up in my throat and in the very next minute, out the third eye. Like a fucking balloon, gone, that fast. I panicked.
The oxygen the nurse gave me helped. (Sweet girl, she said she liked my earrings, and I am so very,
very vain and attached to my earrings – it’s one of the reasons I know I could never become a nun.)
(Well, one of the reasons.)
So, I don’t know if it was the oxygen, or the radioactive dye they put in my veins, or the amusement of hearing Steppenwolf’s “Magic Carpet Ride” blaring over the PA while the gamma camera moved this way and that, but all of a sudden I knew everything was okay.
That this wasn’t, after all, a good day to die.
That despite certain residue and the possibility of glowing in the dark; my heart was fine.
It (my heart), was, in fact, supposed to roam freely through the chakras, one minute in the pelvis, the next in the center of my forehead and then, you know, out and about in the world. (Yogi’s have a name for that, me, I’m a Midwesterner (although some of the sea has crept in).
An old poem, multiple times rejected and unpublished, yet a favorite (and one of the other reasons for not becoming a nun):
Backbone of the Night
She turned, easy in sleep
dreamed of milk, ripe olives
bread sheltered in crust.
She knew the recipe by heart:
three parts sift, to
two parts oil, add
one part strain,
He drank
velvet, pure from her veins,
burnished skin, soft as birch,
black as raven wings.anoint.
And in the morning, lotus.
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mostly on the weekends, catching drifts of the blogosphere’s battles on how to deal with torture, obama’s stance on torture, the role of blogs and bloggers on this and other issues, and this and that and this and that.
very important stuff.
but spring is here in the US of A, and my hope is that our hearts are blooming along with the crocus.
and that we remember whenever or however we fight, we progressive liberals fight with good, strong hearts. that love is our backbone. that all the old hippie dippie stuff still is the oil in our engines.
oh god, the metaphors are descending like locusts. crocus. something!
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The City of Words by Alberto Manguel has been a fantastic find.
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later. this is a fly-by. 🙂
My heart is doing pretty well this morning.
Its the gray clouds, spring rain, and interrupted sleep from last night that make that a bit harder to calibrate this morning though.
But the buds on the trees and bits of green here and there are testament to the fact that spring does, in fact, eventually comes to the ‘tundra.’
You were a freak way back when, and you’re still a freak.
Nice to see you here, with a heart full of freak-ness. 😉
Been wondering how you were doing. Glad things worked out okay.
Yowzah!
…Can hear why it’s a fave of yours. Perhaps the rejecting readers did not see the connections beyond the quick shifts. Or perhaps I’m just reading too much into it. At any rate, I’ve read it several times and enjoy the sudden leaps.
Glad you’re back. I think many folks have needed to take some space lately.
Made me spend the night. I cried and cried. They even brought in a shrink to see me because I wouldn’t stop crying. Why did I cry? Just because I really felt like it. No matter how old I get, I just can’t seem to come to grips with the fact that life just isn’t fucking fair.
Turns out, my heart was fine too. Best they could figure was plain old stress. Glad you are healthy and still around to share wonderful Seger cuts.
I am glad you are O.K. — but at the time of the “scare,” I can understand you thought the worst.
There’s way too much stress on people, generally, these days — no peace and no rest. Those who have jobs have to work harder and harder and worry about keeping their jobs. Those looking for jobs just keep looking and hoping they can stay well. Those who’ve lost their homes and probably everything cannot have a moment of peace — wondering if they will ever surmount their conditions — older people worried about having enough to see them through — and the illnesses that accompany stress — while all the fat cats get fatter and fatter and live luxuriantly at our expense. To Bush, et al., you done a heckuva’ job on folks! M-F’s!
And we missed our birthdays — so, Happy Belated Birthday!