Perspective

When I think I have everything in my life figured out, I discover I have been examining too closely.  

I have looked at minute details, become too serious and forgotten the larger perspectives.  

I step back.  And suddenly, I see how varied, expansive and beautiful the world really is.

I've Been Away

 

 

I've Been Away

I've been away from my blog and from my writing.

I am here now, yet I am not here--not fully.

My body feels like an alien creature, weary, uncooperative, aching from radiation burns.  It has turned on me, betrayed me with these cancer cells.  Still this body is mine.  I recognize myself in the mirror; my face, my fingers, my feet, my self.

Yet I am not here--not quite.  I struggle through the brain fog.  Is it Friday?  What happened to Thursday?  Will I write today?  Can I make sense?  Will I write and re-write only to quit in despair?

Depression and I have become well acquainted, more so on the days when pain and frustration are close companions.  I sleep 11 hours a night and nap during the day.  If I want to do dishes, or bake biscuits, sweep a floor or have a shower, I must do this in the morning before the energy dissipates.

It has been hard learning to be gentle and patient with myself.  Even though treatments ended last Wednesday, it will be weeks more before energy returns and the burns are healed.  I am recovering but want the process to speed up, to be done.  I want to be well...now, now, now.

This winter, I have been hibernating in the caverns of radiotherapy and sleep, caught in a haze of  depression and pain and medications.  But I am returning to myself, to clarity, to lucidity, to balance.  The "not here" times lessen as the "here" times lengthen.

I will be well again.

I am nearly there, back to "here", back to being fully present within myself.


Words and photo are copyright Carol Steel.  The photo is of the recent full moon through a haze of cloud and darkness.

Perspective

 

 

 

Perspective

I had an appointment for today at 2pm to consult with the oncologist…finally.  It should have happened two weeks ago but they “lost my paperwork.”  Today at 1:30 pm I received a phone call postponing the appointment until tomorrow morning.  “Sorry for the last minute cancellation,” she said.

I asked about whether they were doing the markings and set up tomorrow too.   “Oh no,” she said, “that will be sometime next week, if we can find a slot for you.”

 “Oh and then I’ll begin the radiation?”

“Well no, then we’ll have to see when we can fit you in to begin sometime in the next month.” 

I wondered why, and felt a little sorry for myself; sorry that obtaining treatment would take so long and be so vaguely planned.

Then I remembered.

I have a home, un-burnt and un-flooded.  I have electricity and heat.   I can do laundry and can drive where I want to go.  I don’t have two hundred year old Black Oaks falling on my roof while I wait over a month for a tree company with a crane to come and cut them down.   I have fresh food.  I don’t have to worry about the temperature dropping outside and my pipes freezing.   I have Medicare which will pay for all or most of my treatments, whenever they happen.

I’m a lucky woman.

It helps to keep the problems in perspective. 

Photo and words are copyright © Carol Steel



The Ideal World

Sometimes, the way I think the world should be, isn't the way it is.  This is true more often than not.  But, what of it?

Well, for a start, it's good that the world isn't the way I fancy it should be.  What a poor world it would be, if it was limited to what my imagination could conjure.  For another, different perspectives stretch my views and opinions, and kick-start my thinking to travel into expanded horizons.

I like it when ideas and opinions are constantly stretching and expanding, especially when it happens to me.  I like the challenge.

For example, if I didn't know buttercups as weeds, would I see their sunshine and welcome them into the corners of my lawn?  Would my perspective change?

What if I appreciate the white delicacy of the flower heads of goutweed as much as I do the blooms of Queen Anne's Lace?  They sway the same dance in the summer breezes, in different spots in the yard.  Why is one a blessing and one a curse?

Is the feathered horse tail peeking from behind the columbine any less endearing than the feathery leaves of coreopsis?  If I don't perceive buttercups, goutweed and horse tails as plagues in my garden, will I be able to allow myself to enjoy their beauty and to spend less time weeding?

Perhaps the way I think about the world and how it should be needs to be more flexible, to be more accepting of the way the world just is.

If weeds are perceived...well, yes, as weeds, though not without their own charms, could I spend less time on them and more time on writing?

And wouldn't that be better for me?  Wouldn't it be better to change what I can, to accept what I cannot change and to be wise enough to know the difference.  Wait, I think I've heard that before...

Perhaps it's time to pay attention.

And to start writing...