Today felt a bit “bug on the windscreen.” Even that articulation feels comically absurd. There was eloquence in the day, even levity, but the poetry was thick and dark and tearing.
I woke rested, mostly.
Last evening a passing conversation with Nova went poorly, leaving a sense of rift, difficulty, and uncertainty. She retired early and it was not resolved. The first murmur of acute distress in the field.
Stephanie arrived late this morning. Her face bespoke a deep soul weariness. New and intense family disturbances, on the coattails of previous and intense disturbances continued to rock her world. Her world it seems is filled with rocks. She has been breaking them, determined to escape, but the weight is taking its toll.
Dental malpractice further left her with a job not only unfinished, but poorly done. A misplaced brace has been hewing the flesh from the inside of her mouth for a day now. “On a scale from 1 to 10, this is a 20.” Said the otherwise stoic and unflinching young woman. Almost in tears from the pain, she was simply soldiering through.
The deep soul pain, we worked with for a while landing on some possible means of addressing. The more surface and intense pain was mitigated a bit with some gauze and emergency schedule with the dentist for early afternoon.
The morning was going slow, but we were making progress.
A text from Ahlea, the small house on the end of her block, perfect in its square footage for Nova and I to be roommates, perfect in orientation to provide southern exposure in a pleasant outdoors, perfect in location to be just houses away from skilled and loving family care, and perfect in proximity to Ahlea’s van, ready transportation at nearly any time…
Strange silences from the leasing agent with whom we had been in dialogue, and now the for rent sign has come down, with no word whatsoever.
I was getting out of bed to brush my teeth when the message came through. Just minutes later, an email from the place doubling down on housing discrimination, a smaller unit but lovely in its own rights, this time longer, and from the lawyer, continuing to harp on red herrings of “mandated” accessibility concerns.
“I see you, day, I see.”
My morning inbox also contained an update on a piece of legislation I’ve been tracking. New cosponsors. I penned a letter to my own representative pointing out the intersection of the matter with national security and America’s failing stance in global finance. I recommended a few sources for more sophisticated advice on the matter and pressed send.
The Notary Public would be here at 11 for the Trust signing. 30 minutes to the hour and I had a couple of last-minute questions for the attorney. Proceeding in two directions awaiting either reply, I set about printing the documents. Or so I thought.
It took 40 minutes to print 17 pages. In the end, we had to feed them one at a time. The notary was kindly patient, and thankfully Elisa was here to entertain her at the sunny café table in the garden while we struggled inside.
I made my way outside to the garden, Stephanie limping in tow, nearly wholly distracted by the pain in her face. We managed to get through the signing, friendly and smiles. The notary – moonlighting from her nonpandemic job as a preschool teacher – said her goodbyes, leaving Ms. Elisa and I to convene for a few more moments in the sun.
We both had engagements coming up after the 1 o’clock hour and moved inside briefly to hand her the book on managing trusts and scan the signed documents before she departed into the day.
A message came through, platform and user issues delaying the delivery of a STAGES report I had filed yesterday, more energy flowing through turbulent course. Some juggling and a little back-and-forth in the matter was managed.
I see you, day, I see you…
My 1 o’clock was a very special class in which I’ve been engaged, a sacred window in an otherwise unsettled day.
Rolling out from the bedroom in the morning, I was really feeling traumatized. Care faltering, housing evaporating, the path a seeming apparition with no path stones. The subsequent chaos only exacerbating the sensation.
11 minutes to the hour, just turning my attention to readying for the study session, an email notification alerted incoming reply on the perspective care front.
“My apologies for the delay in response. I understand that you may no longer be seeking care, but I wanted to be sure to respond to your thoughtful and detailed message.”
My heart lifted.
Clicking through, the message read further…
“Thank you for reaching out to me regarding this opportunity. I am intrigued by your message; the collaboration, culture and overall holistic nature of the community of care you speak of.…”
Molly was singing my song.
I shot a quick reply inviting connection in the afternoon and came skidding, tumbling, and even laughing a little into the zoom room with my 20 compatriots for the coming window of 75 minutes duration.
As anticipated, the course was deeply soothing. Meditation I had missed in the morning, welled up within me while John guided us through a crisp and clear vision of life unfolding in the cosmos, a vast and humble view of our natural becoming in each moment.
In the end, levity and humor were the subtheme of the deep and serious perspectival vistas he had taken us through.
In the midst of the early morning clearing of the inbox, I had stumbled across this little gem and passed it along to others, evoking laughter at every turn.
It was good to feel a little trickle of light dancing through the thickets of the day.
I wrapped up some simple finance matters, and the phone rang, Molly on the other end and I spent the next 40 minutes honoring the levity and synergies of our connection, deciding easily to go forward with a training schedule and trying on the new dynamic.
Even with this good news, I still felt a bit like I was tumbling down a rocky and boldered hillside. The stones were made of semi-dense foam to preserve the levity of course, but the tumbling and knocks no less real.
That kind of disoriented state where enough is wrong, and enough is in motion that the mind searches a bit frantically for what to do or how to hold on…
The phone rang, Eliana on the other end just calling to be a friend and say hello. She is well, and things are going well as she launches her new whole being wellness offering, as if she is finding a new wind in the course of her life, energies coming together for what she has been dreaming deep beneath the surface.
She asked about how things were going, and has been following the unfolding drama this year fairly closely, while simultaneously cultivating the garden as a place of support.
We spoke for about 30 minutes, while I pulled myself away from the desk to gaze out towards the setting sun through the pine trees.
Elisa was next, she had called while we were on the phone and I returned her message now. On her way back from the vet with good news, the latest rounds of tests were better than half as expensive as expected. Ours is a more daily conversation and we flowed easily through the general array of topics.
Nova has just helped me assess my condition. I was reminded in the moment that a further portion of the morning drama had been a clear infection in the stoma precipitating a call to nurse Denise for guidance and support. I had walked sweet Stephanie through the procedure of the flush and as things appear this evening our efforts have been successful.
Foam hillside… Is life ultimately a foam forest? The luminous appearance of deep seriousness, bobbing about on depths of levity dark and whole and timeless?
God gets to know things, we just get to ask questions…