The Furious Spinner

Didn't sleep much. Hot flashes. Up and down all night. I think I'm figuring out that stress makes the hot flashes stronger and more frequent. For the first month after the Faery Doctoring workshop I didn't have any flashes.

Channeling the dragon.

Or so some say.

First thing: Mario is fine.

Second thing: I realized today that I will probably never be suddenly released from all my fears. It has to be a daily practice. Doesn't sound like a big revelation, but it was to me. I share this with you not to be self-revelatory but because so many of you have written to me about your own struggles with fear.

Yesterday I went over to Linda's. I hadn't seen her for three days. She seemed to be doing better. We talked about fear. She says she doesn't have fear, so she doesn't really understand it. She suggested I do what she's been doing about her pain. She feels it, says, "Did I invite you?" and then tells it to go away.

After I left her I drove to Hood River to pick up my box of produce. I was at the heart of the world, between Wy'east and Pahto. I was at the heart of the world sitting in the grocery store parking lot, in my car, eating vanilla soy ice cream and reading soap opera digest. I don't have TV; I didn't really care about anything in the magazine, and that was exactly why I wanted to read it. I wanted to fuzz out for a while. My version of taking a drink, I suppose.

Then I drove home. Took a bath. Did meditation. Felt my fears lift. My body was still on adrenaline, but I felt better. It's just life, baby.

Tuesday. We were a part of a flock of birds at the beach. It was near new moon so the tides were very high and very low. We walked out toward the ocean. Walked and walked, our soles on the Old Sea's bed. The sand was still rumpled where she had been. It was night. Fog. Mist. When we made the long walk back toward our ocean front motel, we saw a movie. Yes. On the beach. We went toward the moving picture and found a group of people sitting on an amphitheater made of sand watching Chronicles of Narnia. Lucy had just walked through the wardrobe and out into Narnia. I was entranced. Enchanted. The Old Sea flowed toward us and away in the dark behind us. Fires glowed up and down the beach. And on the bed of the Old Sea, we watched a movie. Could any moment have been more wonderful?

I'd never seen the movie. I had refused to watch it after finding out that the right wing religious fundamentalists approved of it. I loved the books as a child. Even though I didn't think the girls got enough to do. Even though I didn't like all the war stuff. Still I loved the magic. Now here was the movie playing in the least likely place I would have expected. How appropriate. The wardrobe was a threshold between here and there, just as the beach is a threshold. Betwixt and between. We stayed only a few minutes; then we continued our walk along the edge of the continent.

Today I sat in the waiting room with headphones on. Breathed with the Universe. Saw the heartbeat of the Universe. Of the Earth. It is my heartbeat. It is your heartbeat.

Then Mario came out and told me his good news. We broke his fast at Blossoming Lotus. We took the food with us to the movies. (Saw The Puffy Chair. Not perfect but we both really liked it. It was very...real. Mario and I have had conversations very similar to ones in this movie. I think many couples have.) Then Mario went to acupuncture, and I went grocery shopping. It was a lovely time. A lovely day.

Now we're sitting on the couch together watching another movie. Life is sweet. I am grateful.

Love, love, love.

Labels: Church of the Old Mermaids, movies, sleep, travel

4 comments

4 Comments:

Good to hear Mario's news!

And, as for your realization, yep, much as we might wish we could, with most things, we walk, we don't teleport.

By Will Shetterly, at 9:50 PM  

Sounds like a wonderful day. You can use a few of those every now and again.

By James, at 3:52 AM  

Three cheers for both you, so glad to hear Mario is fine. I will write later today but am feeling very sick this morning - the last chemo session was not fun at all, and it is so HOT here right now. Love and hugs, Cate

By kerrdelune, at 4:01 AM  

Ah Cate. I've been thinking about you. I'm sorry the last session was bad. May the love and the affection of the moon and the stars be upon you. May the health and the strength of a thousand healthy grizzlies be upon you. May the love and affection of a cool breeze be upon you. May it be so.

Thanks, James. Right back atcha. But Will, I like the teleporting idea. Wouldn't it be grand. I often hear/read about people who have these epiphanies or life-changing moments and they are "suddenly" different. Those are rare and far between, in my experience. It's so easy to fall back into those comfy ruts even after great revelations. So I'm a walkin'!

Thanks for the encouragements, all.

By Kim Antieau, at 9:37 AM  

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