There was no crane action today.
Today was very much a day of sitting still and being bathed in the profound. This is particularly hard on my back – the sitting still part I mean – and I actually lay on my bed for part of the late afternoon.
In the morning ‘til late afternoon I was being taped for the Book of Judith. Sarah and Michael want a different sort of ending for the play for those performances where I cannot show up. For the life of me I don’t understand why someone else can’t just play me. Instead they want to have a video of me make the icon of me appear to come alive, rescue Mathew from the part where he is left naked not knowing what to do next, and end the play.
So there I was wrapped in the same winter weight poncho which I am wearing in the iconographic picture already used in the play. I was interviewed in this coat under intense video lights with the apartment windows shut to cut down the background noise. I was to stay still for the most part so the video, when edited, would fit into the icon background, and thus I will seem appear in the wall to the audience
What did I say? I don’t remember much of it, but most of it was serious in tone and some was profound, or close to it.
I remember sharing what I have recently learnt about my failure to notice people’s boundaries and how the gift of intimacy without proper limitations can bring people into difficult situations. I am certain that if Caleb and I had better appreciation of boundaries at that time I would not have asked him to help me find a lover. But then there would have been no Book of Judith. The paradox of life!
The rest of today’s sitting still had to do with going to the movie – The King’s Speech – with Gloria, Peter and Mike. I need to sleep and so it’s difficult right now to say fully its impact on me. I was struck by how obvious it is that a good personal assistant, and the one who is supported, will love each other. I wonder when the world will realize how utterly authentic this is.
The other depiction that struck me was how the prince, and then the King George VI, up until he gave his great war speech, had to struggle to assert, even discover, himself both inside of being seen as defective AND inside of the utter imposition of being royal. As afraid as he was of being king he really could only be himself when he was crowned and when he mastered being able to use his voice. This moves me because I can only be myself inside of bringing Inclusion into view for others. Everything that has occurred in my life prepares me for this, even being seen as disabled. And so, I can sit for hours, overheated and in growing pain and stiffness, speaking words whose depth and insight seem to me to be strangely not entirely my own. It is who I am and who I am meant to be even if it wasn’t me who decided this was the theme of my life. My role is not to craft it so much as it is to choose it, and make from it its own authentic fulfillment.
Such an egotistical, yet natural, thing it is to feel that one has a mission – inspiring yet corny, dangerous and fulfilling.
The Prince walks with his therapist openly in the streets, unrecognized – maybe because who could fathom that the Prince would keep the company of such a lowly man. I wonder if there is a way that I can step outside of myself to see me as others do?
Showing posts with label intimacy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label intimacy. Show all posts
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
December 28, 2010
Mike has pretty much finished reading through the autobiography section of the 475 pages we assembled last week. Kimberly is reading too, and getting quite into it, as in she is upset about some of it! Interesting! Their reactions reconnect me with my story.
As editor Mike has suggested that I write about the end of Cycle 2 as a bridge into the central location of the book – Cycle 3. Makes sense, and at the same time, it’s a bit intimidating. It might take more than two pages. It might take time and effort.
But it’s TIME – time for this book.
So here goes, Mike!
I became conscious that another cycle had ended or was coming to an end at about the time of my 60th birthday. I am not clear. Recently I have been noticing that my memory for events from the time of returning from the 2008/09 tour – late April 2009 through my hospitalization in Oct. 2010 – is jumbled. I chalk it up to stress, the growing infection in my body and the actual effect of one Cycle passing into another.
The foundation of the concept of my life being in 30 year cycles comes from the belief – powerfully communicated to me when I was six or so - that I certainly could not live past thirty years of age. At about that time I was enrolled in a research study conducted at “Sick Kids” – the Hospital for Sick Kids in Toronto. From that point I was to take two trips every six months into a big city, by car, at a time when such a voyage was strenuous for every person involved – me, my mother and my father.
There are several elements of this pattern that created fundamental perceptions of life for me. The adult Judith has always struggled with the “obvious” conclusions that the child came to in these four trips every year.
First of all, I knew I must be sick. Why so much attention from doctors and big hospital people if I wasn’t sick! Secondly nearly every encounter was bookmarked by intense pain and loneliness, and at the same time a sense of specialness and intimacy. For example, on each of these mornings my father would get me up – something which otherwise my mother always did. He always gave me the special breakfast – boiled egg mashed up on buttered, nearly burnt toast – a breakfast that I looked forward to passionately. Once the appointments were completed my mother always took me for an extra special lunch. She never said anything but it was understood that it was her way of saying that she knew how much these trips were a source of pain and loneliness for me. Finally, the doctors always paid a certain amount of special attention to me and expected me to perform in some entertaining way. For example, they always asked me to tell them a joke on each occasion. I realized at a very early age that this attention set me apart in some way, and so as much as the actual occasions were difficult, I also at some level looked forward to these benchmarks in my otherwise boring life.
And so, the fundamental themes of my life were well established before I was eight. I was special, I was different, I was dying, I was to be treated painfully by every adult who mattered to me, and I had nothing to say about any of it, except to be ready to tell jokes and eat lots of good food. I was very chubby until my 50’s.
(To be continued…)
As editor Mike has suggested that I write about the end of Cycle 2 as a bridge into the central location of the book – Cycle 3. Makes sense, and at the same time, it’s a bit intimidating. It might take more than two pages. It might take time and effort.
But it’s TIME – time for this book.
So here goes, Mike!
I became conscious that another cycle had ended or was coming to an end at about the time of my 60th birthday. I am not clear. Recently I have been noticing that my memory for events from the time of returning from the 2008/09 tour – late April 2009 through my hospitalization in Oct. 2010 – is jumbled. I chalk it up to stress, the growing infection in my body and the actual effect of one Cycle passing into another.
The foundation of the concept of my life being in 30 year cycles comes from the belief – powerfully communicated to me when I was six or so - that I certainly could not live past thirty years of age. At about that time I was enrolled in a research study conducted at “Sick Kids” – the Hospital for Sick Kids in Toronto. From that point I was to take two trips every six months into a big city, by car, at a time when such a voyage was strenuous for every person involved – me, my mother and my father.
There are several elements of this pattern that created fundamental perceptions of life for me. The adult Judith has always struggled with the “obvious” conclusions that the child came to in these four trips every year.
First of all, I knew I must be sick. Why so much attention from doctors and big hospital people if I wasn’t sick! Secondly nearly every encounter was bookmarked by intense pain and loneliness, and at the same time a sense of specialness and intimacy. For example, on each of these mornings my father would get me up – something which otherwise my mother always did. He always gave me the special breakfast – boiled egg mashed up on buttered, nearly burnt toast – a breakfast that I looked forward to passionately. Once the appointments were completed my mother always took me for an extra special lunch. She never said anything but it was understood that it was her way of saying that she knew how much these trips were a source of pain and loneliness for me. Finally, the doctors always paid a certain amount of special attention to me and expected me to perform in some entertaining way. For example, they always asked me to tell them a joke on each occasion. I realized at a very early age that this attention set me apart in some way, and so as much as the actual occasions were difficult, I also at some level looked forward to these benchmarks in my otherwise boring life.
And so, the fundamental themes of my life were well established before I was eight. I was special, I was different, I was dying, I was to be treated painfully by every adult who mattered to me, and I had nothing to say about any of it, except to be ready to tell jokes and eat lots of good food. I was very chubby until my 50’s.
(To be continued…)
Monday, December 27, 2010
December 27, 2010
Writing this blog has started to put one question on the table in a big way: “When is my life not anyone else’s business?”
Landmark Education puts a great stock in the value of “sharing”. Telling stories and making confessions, asking questions and publically exposing opinions and beliefs are the grist of every one of the dozens of transformational courses Landmark offers worldwide. Another phrase used to describe this public dialogue is “being in the inquiry”.
I’m not being sarcastic – I have seen and experienced that sharing really works! For one, people quickly find out that their apparently private experience is essentially exactly the same experience that 98% of the human race is having. This takes the heat out of lots of issues. For another, once said out loud thoughts tend to move on instead of showing up over and over again for hours, days, months. This gives clearer space, potentially for some fresh, powerful thinking.
After my vocal cords were damaged by steroids when I was twelve and I developed a masculine timbre to my speaking I became essentially silent out of embarrassment. This lack of willingness to speak up was reinforced by other strained and/or embarrassing moments in my teenage years.
Working with Marsha Forest brought me into a great many situations where my deep reticence to state my perspective was strained to the max! On many, many occasions I would be told that I had ten minutes to say something in front of a hundred people with no warning or preparation. The trouble was (and is!) that I really had some things I wanted to say, and at some level I was gratified by the opportunity. It was only after I took the Landmark Forum in 1990 that I began to develop a genuine willingness to speak up and out, and some comfort and skill in being a public figure.
The other side of the picture is that I have never had any real privacy. I share my body with many, many people, year after year. I quickly found out, too, that I gained a certain safety in having few secrets. Since everyone knows that everyone else knows my business, and theirs too should they share something with me, there is no room for the kind of manipulation that many people who are supported by others experience. That is to say I am much less vulnerable to abuse of all sorts because there is no room for: “This is OUR secret!”
The flip side of “tell all” is that I have not been good at understanding other people’s boundaries. I have had a “breakthrough” in that area this year. Simply put, I now know that I don’t easily see other’s boundaries and sometimes need to warn people to explicitly tell me where the edges are. I also now know that I may be wanting to be more obviously setting boundaries for myself. There is some strength in having shores for the river.
So then in the context of this blog is there some sort or level of secrecy that I want to maintain – is there some part of my thinking, feeling and experience that I don’t want to lay before known or unknown readers?
I recently created an identity for Facebook so that I can play Farmville in one character and keep the Judith Snow account free of all the nonsense messages. Right away I realized that I could give this new identity some characteristics, definitely some friends and a new public life.
So now one question is: “Do I share this new life with you?”
Landmark Education puts a great stock in the value of “sharing”. Telling stories and making confessions, asking questions and publically exposing opinions and beliefs are the grist of every one of the dozens of transformational courses Landmark offers worldwide. Another phrase used to describe this public dialogue is “being in the inquiry”.
I’m not being sarcastic – I have seen and experienced that sharing really works! For one, people quickly find out that their apparently private experience is essentially exactly the same experience that 98% of the human race is having. This takes the heat out of lots of issues. For another, once said out loud thoughts tend to move on instead of showing up over and over again for hours, days, months. This gives clearer space, potentially for some fresh, powerful thinking.
After my vocal cords were damaged by steroids when I was twelve and I developed a masculine timbre to my speaking I became essentially silent out of embarrassment. This lack of willingness to speak up was reinforced by other strained and/or embarrassing moments in my teenage years.
Working with Marsha Forest brought me into a great many situations where my deep reticence to state my perspective was strained to the max! On many, many occasions I would be told that I had ten minutes to say something in front of a hundred people with no warning or preparation. The trouble was (and is!) that I really had some things I wanted to say, and at some level I was gratified by the opportunity. It was only after I took the Landmark Forum in 1990 that I began to develop a genuine willingness to speak up and out, and some comfort and skill in being a public figure.
The other side of the picture is that I have never had any real privacy. I share my body with many, many people, year after year. I quickly found out, too, that I gained a certain safety in having few secrets. Since everyone knows that everyone else knows my business, and theirs too should they share something with me, there is no room for the kind of manipulation that many people who are supported by others experience. That is to say I am much less vulnerable to abuse of all sorts because there is no room for: “This is OUR secret!”
The flip side of “tell all” is that I have not been good at understanding other people’s boundaries. I have had a “breakthrough” in that area this year. Simply put, I now know that I don’t easily see other’s boundaries and sometimes need to warn people to explicitly tell me where the edges are. I also now know that I may be wanting to be more obviously setting boundaries for myself. There is some strength in having shores for the river.
So then in the context of this blog is there some sort or level of secrecy that I want to maintain – is there some part of my thinking, feeling and experience that I don’t want to lay before known or unknown readers?
I recently created an identity for Facebook so that I can play Farmville in one character and keep the Judith Snow account free of all the nonsense messages. Right away I realized that I could give this new identity some characteristics, definitely some friends and a new public life.
So now one question is: “Do I share this new life with you?”
Sunday, December 12, 2010
December 12, 2010
It’s really beginning to look a lot like Christmas. (I said that already – yesterday!)
It’s been a long time since I shared my “household” with another person, outside of the ongoing presence of personal assistants. Over years of funny and difficult events I have become relatively good at creating the physical, emotional and social space that my assistants need to feel centred in my home and car. Having a continuous need to maintain a workplace within the intimate spaces of my life is a delicate balancing act, and one that I enjoy ongoingly paying attention to. This endeavour quite literally engages a large piece of my emotional availability and is a fulfilling pleasure for me.
Having a housemate is another thing! I realized in the wee hours of this morning that Peter is on some sort of emotional/spiritual journey right now that requires this space to be nurturing and open in ways that I am not familiar with. In other words the control freak in me is getting triggered.
I was once married and I imagine that I might like this sort of intimacy again. Right now I am getting to see why I’m not in that sort of relationship!
The space that assistants need can be bounded by me in ways that are perceived by everyone as legitimate. My supporters, paid and unpaid, agree with me that the fundamental reason for their presence in my life is to ensure that I can both live and participate in ways that work for me. There are endless negotiations and at the root of them is always this center – my life and my participation. This certainty gives a way to find articulation and direction.
Peter is here only in part as a personal assistant. He is also here as a colleague in the community development work of World Peace through Inclusive Transformation. More fundamentally he is living here!
We end up talking about who owes what for toilet paper and food, how loud is too loud, who’s going to pick up what and when, what he should be wearing, and ongoingly about topics I cannot predict – “Do you want to sell these clothes at a discount and make money?” - at times I cannot predict.
Peter’s Father died recently and, as I wrote about yesterday, Christmas clearly brings us back into the arenas of our Mothers, and these are different arenas indeed! This morning I realized that I have front row seats in his unfolding awareness that he is now living beyond his parents.
I don’t mind – I’m just not “ready” – whatever the hell that means!
I think this is one of those “good for me” moments in my life. What I learn and become in this time and space will serve me well as a person who longs to be intimately available outside of my personal support structures.
I simply need to be clear about what my own emotional, physical and social spaces are and be skilful at negotiating them without force and fear, but in love and trust. It’s the being clear that presents my learning curve.
I will keep you posted!
It’s been a long time since I shared my “household” with another person, outside of the ongoing presence of personal assistants. Over years of funny and difficult events I have become relatively good at creating the physical, emotional and social space that my assistants need to feel centred in my home and car. Having a continuous need to maintain a workplace within the intimate spaces of my life is a delicate balancing act, and one that I enjoy ongoingly paying attention to. This endeavour quite literally engages a large piece of my emotional availability and is a fulfilling pleasure for me.
Having a housemate is another thing! I realized in the wee hours of this morning that Peter is on some sort of emotional/spiritual journey right now that requires this space to be nurturing and open in ways that I am not familiar with. In other words the control freak in me is getting triggered.
I was once married and I imagine that I might like this sort of intimacy again. Right now I am getting to see why I’m not in that sort of relationship!
The space that assistants need can be bounded by me in ways that are perceived by everyone as legitimate. My supporters, paid and unpaid, agree with me that the fundamental reason for their presence in my life is to ensure that I can both live and participate in ways that work for me. There are endless negotiations and at the root of them is always this center – my life and my participation. This certainty gives a way to find articulation and direction.
Peter is here only in part as a personal assistant. He is also here as a colleague in the community development work of World Peace through Inclusive Transformation. More fundamentally he is living here!
We end up talking about who owes what for toilet paper and food, how loud is too loud, who’s going to pick up what and when, what he should be wearing, and ongoingly about topics I cannot predict – “Do you want to sell these clothes at a discount and make money?” - at times I cannot predict.
Peter’s Father died recently and, as I wrote about yesterday, Christmas clearly brings us back into the arenas of our Mothers, and these are different arenas indeed! This morning I realized that I have front row seats in his unfolding awareness that he is now living beyond his parents.
I don’t mind – I’m just not “ready” – whatever the hell that means!
I think this is one of those “good for me” moments in my life. What I learn and become in this time and space will serve me well as a person who longs to be intimately available outside of my personal support structures.
I simply need to be clear about what my own emotional, physical and social spaces are and be skilful at negotiating them without force and fear, but in love and trust. It’s the being clear that presents my learning curve.
I will keep you posted!
Friday, December 10, 2010
December 10, 2010
It’s very late and I am just getting down to the writing. It’s so tempting to simply dig up another old article. If I can’t find one I can feel good about, then there are so many old e-mails. It would take much more digging and editing to reuse them. I have promised myself for years that “someday” I will do just that – dig and edit – pan for gold?!?
But I don’t want to lose the discipline of writing to bring forth expression over communication. Reusing what I have done before is not the same as newly writing. I am not saying I was “bad” to post articles for three nights. It was a sort of expression for sure – an expression of me accommodating to a “waiting” time within myself. But posting old articles is not the process that encourages me to dig in and reach for as yet uncreated words that are true for me right now.
It is a new discipline for me to not be trying to prove something to someone. When I have written before this blog I was either trying to find my own voice within a space where many other voices were tempting me or insisting that I say something else, or I was trying to push back another – usually hegemonic – voice, or I was trying to explain something. It is not that those impulses are not present now – they are! Rather this writing is intended to be more like painting. It is more about seeing differently who I am for no other reason than seeing it.
It is not a pure motivation. It is all jumbled together. I do, however, get real, seemingly accidental, glimpses of created point of view – me simply perceiving.
It’s worth writing at 11:30pm to get those glimpses and I don’t want to get too lazy to keep the space within which they occur.
Jen, the masseuse, was here today. She has begun to focus some of her time on my head – cranial-sacral work. Working near my eyes brought a new vision. I saw two divergent rows of crystal butterflies, still and hard, translucent and shining, and yet vibrantly alive.
I believe that I have great capacity for creativity and for dreaming. In this vision I had the impression that I have much greater capacity for creativity and for dreaming than I have been aware of – in the sense that I did not realize that such a capacity was available to a human being – not just not available before to me.
I had (have?) a deeper sense of the value of dreaming. I dream powerfully. In this world the time given to dream is greatly truncated. In this vision I felt grateful and centred in acknowledging my role and gift as a dreamer. I could clearly see that, although dreaming isn’t all there is to creating reality, it IS fundamental, and not just at the beginning of things, but all the way through.
My odd body includes a vast projection room where dreaming goes on continuously. My oversized head includes a brain within which unlimited “holographic” designs of potential futures are easily constructed and shifted. Apparently my capacity is exceptional and even largely untapped by ME.
When Sarah, Michael and I were talking to ROM people today I was very strengthened by my awareness that I can continuously dream in spaces where people are saying “No” to parts of the picture. It simply requires a shift, not an end. By the end of our hour together, there was a clear sense that everyone was in “Yes” space!
But I don’t want to lose the discipline of writing to bring forth expression over communication. Reusing what I have done before is not the same as newly writing. I am not saying I was “bad” to post articles for three nights. It was a sort of expression for sure – an expression of me accommodating to a “waiting” time within myself. But posting old articles is not the process that encourages me to dig in and reach for as yet uncreated words that are true for me right now.
It is a new discipline for me to not be trying to prove something to someone. When I have written before this blog I was either trying to find my own voice within a space where many other voices were tempting me or insisting that I say something else, or I was trying to push back another – usually hegemonic – voice, or I was trying to explain something. It is not that those impulses are not present now – they are! Rather this writing is intended to be more like painting. It is more about seeing differently who I am for no other reason than seeing it.
It is not a pure motivation. It is all jumbled together. I do, however, get real, seemingly accidental, glimpses of created point of view – me simply perceiving.
It’s worth writing at 11:30pm to get those glimpses and I don’t want to get too lazy to keep the space within which they occur.
Jen, the masseuse, was here today. She has begun to focus some of her time on my head – cranial-sacral work. Working near my eyes brought a new vision. I saw two divergent rows of crystal butterflies, still and hard, translucent and shining, and yet vibrantly alive.
I believe that I have great capacity for creativity and for dreaming. In this vision I had the impression that I have much greater capacity for creativity and for dreaming than I have been aware of – in the sense that I did not realize that such a capacity was available to a human being – not just not available before to me.
I had (have?) a deeper sense of the value of dreaming. I dream powerfully. In this world the time given to dream is greatly truncated. In this vision I felt grateful and centred in acknowledging my role and gift as a dreamer. I could clearly see that, although dreaming isn’t all there is to creating reality, it IS fundamental, and not just at the beginning of things, but all the way through.
My odd body includes a vast projection room where dreaming goes on continuously. My oversized head includes a brain within which unlimited “holographic” designs of potential futures are easily constructed and shifted. Apparently my capacity is exceptional and even largely untapped by ME.
When Sarah, Michael and I were talking to ROM people today I was very strengthened by my awareness that I can continuously dream in spaces where people are saying “No” to parts of the picture. It simply requires a shift, not an end. By the end of our hour together, there was a clear sense that everyone was in “Yes” space!
Thursday, December 2, 2010
December 2, 2010
Gloria and I went to see Wasteland, (Wasteland.com), at the TIFF Bell Lightbox on King Street. There is SO much going on there that Gloria and I are considering getting memberships so to be able to see movies and exhibits for less. It would be a way to reinforce my taking off a day a week to sustain my own wellbeing – and a step up from Farmville!
The movie follows a Brazilian artist who transforms people’s lives as together they turn garbage into art that represents their lives, capacities and dreams.
Afterward, in the exceptionally well designed café that serves the Lightbox, Gloria recorded my words:
“What struck me was that after all the years, as the camera man said, the people who were the garbage pickers were able to lift themselves out from where they were when they saw themselves as artists.
When I became an artist it was that – it didn’t happen all at once, but it happened like that. The process of realizing ever so slowly that I am an artist has given me a place to be, to look at all the other stuff – I’m not trapped being an advocate, fighting to be an advocate. Do you remember how angry and frustrated I got saying over and over again that there is no disability? Saying I am not disabled over and over again created the being of disabled. You can’t ever get out of it.
What if God created art so we can have a place to be so that we can get out of our traps?
When I’m at Laser Eagles and see how the other artists improve in their lives – I realize it’s a wonderful moment when you discover you’re an artist.”
There is a powerful moment when one of the pickers teaches the significance of each moment, each bit of garbage, each person. He is teaching that it is important to recycle not just most cans but ALL cans. He says: “99 is not 100.”
I saw myself in the pickers. I saw the pride, the integrity and the trap. Even to this day I live in a world that sees different capacity as “trash”. I saw that art provided them with a different place to stand and a different perspective wherein they could exercise their natural power.
Can my exhibit provide such a transcendent place?
I am struggling within myself to find images and themes that will open such a powerful space that real life will be present and the rigid hierarchical structure of the ROM will not be able obliterate it. How can such a static, ephemeral moment as walking through an exhibition of my art on the way to the dinosaurs cause a transformative encounter with Inclusion?
There were other pleasures in the experience today. Most of the Lightbox spaces, and also the café within it, are simple and welcoming and also use light and sound to create intimate, comfortable and welcoming ambiance. At the end of the movie I was dancing – for the second time this week!
On another note I added Advil back into my pain management mix today and I have sat up for ten hours! I am hopeful that I have found another clue.
The movie follows a Brazilian artist who transforms people’s lives as together they turn garbage into art that represents their lives, capacities and dreams.
Afterward, in the exceptionally well designed café that serves the Lightbox, Gloria recorded my words:
“What struck me was that after all the years, as the camera man said, the people who were the garbage pickers were able to lift themselves out from where they were when they saw themselves as artists.
When I became an artist it was that – it didn’t happen all at once, but it happened like that. The process of realizing ever so slowly that I am an artist has given me a place to be, to look at all the other stuff – I’m not trapped being an advocate, fighting to be an advocate. Do you remember how angry and frustrated I got saying over and over again that there is no disability? Saying I am not disabled over and over again created the being of disabled. You can’t ever get out of it.
What if God created art so we can have a place to be so that we can get out of our traps?
When I’m at Laser Eagles and see how the other artists improve in their lives – I realize it’s a wonderful moment when you discover you’re an artist.”
There is a powerful moment when one of the pickers teaches the significance of each moment, each bit of garbage, each person. He is teaching that it is important to recycle not just most cans but ALL cans. He says: “99 is not 100.”
I saw myself in the pickers. I saw the pride, the integrity and the trap. Even to this day I live in a world that sees different capacity as “trash”. I saw that art provided them with a different place to stand and a different perspective wherein they could exercise their natural power.
Can my exhibit provide such a transcendent place?
I am struggling within myself to find images and themes that will open such a powerful space that real life will be present and the rigid hierarchical structure of the ROM will not be able obliterate it. How can such a static, ephemeral moment as walking through an exhibition of my art on the way to the dinosaurs cause a transformative encounter with Inclusion?
There were other pleasures in the experience today. Most of the Lightbox spaces, and also the café within it, are simple and welcoming and also use light and sound to create intimate, comfortable and welcoming ambiance. At the end of the movie I was dancing – for the second time this week!
On another note I added Advil back into my pain management mix today and I have sat up for ten hours! I am hopeful that I have found another clue.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
November 27, 2010
Once upon a time according to the calendar above my bed this was going to be a “do nothing” day. Ha, ha. I am busy dealing with contractual and fundraising issues that have already arisen days before my first official meeting with the ROM, and the shock to some of this sudden apparent change of plans.
I am not blaming anyone who thinks I am unreliable due to this sudden shift. I COULD have said “No” to the ROM. I could have said: “Sorry, I have been busy creating a very different spring, and I won’t have time for you.” I didn’t.
Anyway, enough of that. Nothing is “real” until contracts are signed and until then the emotional energy is best directed elsewhere, in my opinion.
So I went dancing.
There is an annual party put on by and for caregivers who are mostly women and mainly Philippino domestics who are intent on getting landed immigrant status in Canada while sending as much money home as possible to bring family members here. Another typical scenario is that they are saving to buy a home in the Philippines. I got to know several such people through a long term friendship with a man – Tim (now pronounced “Teem” since he married such a caregiver) who has a lifetime commitment to providing good support to vulnerable people.
I am aware that the situation surrounding “imported” caregivers is fraught with abuses and fundamentally is established to put these people at an economic disadvantage. However I have never met such a person who wasn’t enthusiastic about the arrangement. Those I have met seem to have been planning since early teenage to become either nurses or caregivers, to marry a man who will follow a similar path but in Saudia Arabia or Hong Kong, to meet up with him for six weeks every two years, and otherwise work six days a week and go to evangelistic church then party on the seventh. Five nights a week caregivers sleep at the “employer’s”, and on the other two nights they sleep two women to a bed in a two bedroom, eight person apartment.
It’s not an arrangement that many Canadians can fathom as a choice. Since running across this sub-culture I have marvelled.
One clear aspect of this lifestyle is that the women are very close to each other, hugging and kissing openly and frequently, dressing for each other – tonight they held a beauty pageant reminiscent of the “meat market” shows long out of favour in Canadian Caucasian culture – and paying much less attention to “eligible” men than I would expect in my familiar circles.
When they party they bring home cooked food and eat extravagantly, they sing and they dance – mostly with each other although men are not obviously excluded.
I love to dance when people are not coupling. When people are dancing in pairs moving a wheelchair on the dance floor can be an awkward and lonely effort. When it’s more free form, my presence seems to give people permission to strut their stuff in any way they can and to have a good time. People will try me out in ones or twos, doing their personal gyration for a short while, then move on. In the general moving on I get to go from person to person too, which is way easier to do in a wheelchair and more fun anyway to me.
Three times I have successfully done the couple thing on the dance floor, twice with a man. One guy and the woman are trained dancers, and all moulded their dance steps to the movements a wheelchair can actually do. I was able to keep up the dance in close “formation” for more than an hour – a feat of tremendous stamina and exhilaration for me and my partners.
I rarely get to dance. It’s something I love to do. Occasionally I remember and take steps to find an accessible place. Typically it’s too expensive or fixated on couple style dancing and I “forget” to pursue this pleasure.
But tonight I danced with Philippino women (and Teem). I had a great time. It is good to move my sore body again and to lose myself in the beat. It is a way to feel that I am “me”.
I am not blaming anyone who thinks I am unreliable due to this sudden shift. I COULD have said “No” to the ROM. I could have said: “Sorry, I have been busy creating a very different spring, and I won’t have time for you.” I didn’t.
Anyway, enough of that. Nothing is “real” until contracts are signed and until then the emotional energy is best directed elsewhere, in my opinion.
So I went dancing.
There is an annual party put on by and for caregivers who are mostly women and mainly Philippino domestics who are intent on getting landed immigrant status in Canada while sending as much money home as possible to bring family members here. Another typical scenario is that they are saving to buy a home in the Philippines. I got to know several such people through a long term friendship with a man – Tim (now pronounced “Teem” since he married such a caregiver) who has a lifetime commitment to providing good support to vulnerable people.
I am aware that the situation surrounding “imported” caregivers is fraught with abuses and fundamentally is established to put these people at an economic disadvantage. However I have never met such a person who wasn’t enthusiastic about the arrangement. Those I have met seem to have been planning since early teenage to become either nurses or caregivers, to marry a man who will follow a similar path but in Saudia Arabia or Hong Kong, to meet up with him for six weeks every two years, and otherwise work six days a week and go to evangelistic church then party on the seventh. Five nights a week caregivers sleep at the “employer’s”, and on the other two nights they sleep two women to a bed in a two bedroom, eight person apartment.
It’s not an arrangement that many Canadians can fathom as a choice. Since running across this sub-culture I have marvelled.
One clear aspect of this lifestyle is that the women are very close to each other, hugging and kissing openly and frequently, dressing for each other – tonight they held a beauty pageant reminiscent of the “meat market” shows long out of favour in Canadian Caucasian culture – and paying much less attention to “eligible” men than I would expect in my familiar circles.
When they party they bring home cooked food and eat extravagantly, they sing and they dance – mostly with each other although men are not obviously excluded.
I love to dance when people are not coupling. When people are dancing in pairs moving a wheelchair on the dance floor can be an awkward and lonely effort. When it’s more free form, my presence seems to give people permission to strut their stuff in any way they can and to have a good time. People will try me out in ones or twos, doing their personal gyration for a short while, then move on. In the general moving on I get to go from person to person too, which is way easier to do in a wheelchair and more fun anyway to me.
Three times I have successfully done the couple thing on the dance floor, twice with a man. One guy and the woman are trained dancers, and all moulded their dance steps to the movements a wheelchair can actually do. I was able to keep up the dance in close “formation” for more than an hour – a feat of tremendous stamina and exhilaration for me and my partners.
I rarely get to dance. It’s something I love to do. Occasionally I remember and take steps to find an accessible place. Typically it’s too expensive or fixated on couple style dancing and I “forget” to pursue this pleasure.
But tonight I danced with Philippino women (and Teem). I had a great time. It is good to move my sore body again and to lose myself in the beat. It is a way to feel that I am “me”.
Friday, November 19, 2010
November 19, 2010
As I was checking dates today I realized that I have been writing for more than a continuous month. This will be the 34th posting in this blog. I am “chuffed” as I somewhat expected that I would have missed a day by now, or written less than 2 pages or given it up all together. So far so good for me. I’ve never run out of gas either since owning my first car in 1980 (a yellow Fiat), except for the time that a block of ice severed the fuel line and the gas all ran out in ten minutes –I don’t count that one!
A funny thing happened today… Sometimes the Morphine hits me more than others, especially the evening dose. Tonight I was listening to some Moody Blues in my I-Tunes on my laptop. When Jay was here from Phoenix during our birthdays he left about 22 days worth of music in my folder. I’m not a big listener to music anymore and Jay likes a lot of stuff I don’t it seems, but at supper in bed tonight I found this familiar album from the late ‘60’s.
I realized that the last time I listened to this particular album I was likely stoned too – much more stoned than I am tonight and on a very different, non-prescription drug – but still in a recognizably similar state. Ah, it takes me back!
It felt humourous and good - a recognition and a bridge to a very different yet familiar version of myself. In many ways I am happier now than then, and I NEVER could have imagined today from the perspective of that day. The similarities are there, though. I am still idealistic, searching, self-centred and committed to making a real difference.
My circle meeting was intense last night, leaving Mike and Kimberly put off to some extent. Thank God Gloria was here today. She got sick last night and missed the circle meeting but came today to collage and lunch with me. She has a great connection with Mike and I expect a growing one with Kimberly. We talked together and told many stories about Scott and his supporters, trials and joys of previous trips to Georgia, and of the kind of clashes people have when they care, when they are confronted and when finally they are honest with each other.
Of course both Mike and Kimberly are 25 years old. I am frequently and stereotypically confronted with the depth of their passion, energy, creativity and intelligence and how differently they look upon or simply are unaware of how I, and now my circle, see risks, fatigue, areas that need more careful attention or even some potential directions to take. To me my age shows up most around them. I both want to and don’t want to think and be like them. It seems both wonderful and exhausting.
I guess that it is a blessing that I am not young and they are not old. So far we have been able to work out an amazing variety of ideas and issues. I will do my best to keep it clean and good, not because of either them or me, but because the possibility of World Peace through Inclusion will do so well in their hands.
I am writing this while I am still in bed. Nick and I finally rigged up my laptop and Morse Code so I can use my interface while I am semi lying down. All the pieces that are necessary were in my bedroom. I just didn’t see the last essential part until this afternoon. How often we can’t see what we are looking at!
The collage I did today is about me being reluctant to stick out. Of course I love to have everyone’s attention too. But there is a fear that shows up when I get close to noticing I’m a leader.
After I finished the collage I saw that it has many eyes and points of light in it. It’s hanging over the foot of my bed. I hope I dream about it tonight.
A funny thing happened today… Sometimes the Morphine hits me more than others, especially the evening dose. Tonight I was listening to some Moody Blues in my I-Tunes on my laptop. When Jay was here from Phoenix during our birthdays he left about 22 days worth of music in my folder. I’m not a big listener to music anymore and Jay likes a lot of stuff I don’t it seems, but at supper in bed tonight I found this familiar album from the late ‘60’s.
I realized that the last time I listened to this particular album I was likely stoned too – much more stoned than I am tonight and on a very different, non-prescription drug – but still in a recognizably similar state. Ah, it takes me back!
It felt humourous and good - a recognition and a bridge to a very different yet familiar version of myself. In many ways I am happier now than then, and I NEVER could have imagined today from the perspective of that day. The similarities are there, though. I am still idealistic, searching, self-centred and committed to making a real difference.
My circle meeting was intense last night, leaving Mike and Kimberly put off to some extent. Thank God Gloria was here today. She got sick last night and missed the circle meeting but came today to collage and lunch with me. She has a great connection with Mike and I expect a growing one with Kimberly. We talked together and told many stories about Scott and his supporters, trials and joys of previous trips to Georgia, and of the kind of clashes people have when they care, when they are confronted and when finally they are honest with each other.
Of course both Mike and Kimberly are 25 years old. I am frequently and stereotypically confronted with the depth of their passion, energy, creativity and intelligence and how differently they look upon or simply are unaware of how I, and now my circle, see risks, fatigue, areas that need more careful attention or even some potential directions to take. To me my age shows up most around them. I both want to and don’t want to think and be like them. It seems both wonderful and exhausting.
I guess that it is a blessing that I am not young and they are not old. So far we have been able to work out an amazing variety of ideas and issues. I will do my best to keep it clean and good, not because of either them or me, but because the possibility of World Peace through Inclusion will do so well in their hands.
I am writing this while I am still in bed. Nick and I finally rigged up my laptop and Morse Code so I can use my interface while I am semi lying down. All the pieces that are necessary were in my bedroom. I just didn’t see the last essential part until this afternoon. How often we can’t see what we are looking at!
The collage I did today is about me being reluctant to stick out. Of course I love to have everyone’s attention too. But there is a fear that shows up when I get close to noticing I’m a leader.
After I finished the collage I saw that it has many eyes and points of light in it. It’s hanging over the foot of my bed. I hope I dream about it tonight.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
October 30, 2010
Today I used my maximum available doses of Morphine. In so doing, I was successful at participating fully, sitting up, at my 61st birthday party. A multitude of people came from as far away as British Columbia and as close by as the same floor I live on in my Co-op building. It was all beautifully orchestrated, a lot of fun, and yet another demonstration of abundance. I am not the only one who is over fed today.
The third dose of Morphine was to give me the capacity to finish my dinner and do my writing in bed, this late evening. Writing and Morphine don’t go so well together in my little body. I have heard that it enhances the artistic experience in others. I have not found that intoxication of any sort assists me in that way!
Today’s party and the last few days of Facebook acknowledgements have more than amply conveyed to me others’ appreciation of my existence and my contributions. I am affirmed, a little overwhelmed and a touch frustrated. I have reached the point where several plans are emerging. It is clear that my continued contribution is desired. At this point, my body is far, far, far from being up for it.
There is a somewhat macabre thought running through the last few days. Tomorrow is Halloween so perhaps this is all appropriate. I have thought in the past that I would love to have a great funeral but – Dammit! – I would have to miss it, wouldn’t I? The generous outpouring of affirmation, appreciation, intimacy and abundance that I have experienced in the last couple of weeks while I lie in my fragile and weakened state has made me think that, yes, I have gotten to experience what my wake would be like. And yes, thank God, I didn’t have to die to get it. Or at least not yet!
As more and more people are becoming aware of my efforts to manifest my expression, my unique perspective, I am learning that others have secretly been writing or thinking about writing in a similar vein. The difference is that I have just been putting it out there. How odd it is that I have such little sense of privacy. The theme has emerged and re-emerged over the past eight days, with a number of people quizzing me about whether I really want to let it all go to the public so freely. It has caused me to ponder a question that I would not have ever come up with on my own. Should I be more circumspect?
Well, in fact, from my perspective there is no “should” about it. Privacy doesn’t exist, or rather, exists only periodically and in short lived moments in my life.
No day has gone by when someone else didn’t wipe my butt, put food in my mouth, moved my limbs around, dressed and undressed me and otherwise handled my body as part of their own life path in some way – for better or worse. One of the consequences of this is that the “I” of Judith Snow tends to exist somewhat separately from my physical person. The flip side is that I easily enter into other people’s space – actually into their physical aura on occasion. What is privacy?
This has become somewhat of a theme in these writings. Boundaries.
I have rather enjoyed being on a urinary catheter for the past several weeks. This has given me much longer periods of time when I don’t have to interact with another physical person. For example, today after the party, I lay for over an hour in my bed by myself, mostly awake and shifting between watching the goings on outside my window and being with my thoughts. This provides for a certain kind of gathering – me giving myself a sense of continuity. It is a fiction of course, but a very interesting and useful fiction nonetheless. What is it that I am gathering? I suppose you could say that I am piecing together a new story of who I am and who I will be – a story that conforms both to the vast outreach that my life as achieved so far and at the same time the miniscule capacity that I currently have as a body.
In the past I have not reconciled these two bookends of my experience very well, though I am sure many will argue with this statement! I have either overtaxed my body self or I have (more commonly) forgotten how far my dreams and my expressions have reached in favour of thinking of myself as an unaccomplished person.
It would be awesome in Cycle 3 to willingly reach out as far as possible to bring peace and inclusion into the world and at the same time live as the physical being that I truly am – a small and ethereal albeit chubby body. Mother Theresa kind of pulled it off. She was a shrimp!
It puts me in mind of dreaming of just how to enjoy and take care of my body. In the past I have spent quite a bit of time thinking about how to keep myself participating, but not that much about how to keep myself comfortable and happy. This is a space I would like to explore more as I am laying around and recovering both from my illness and from the tests that I will shortly go through.
The third dose of Morphine was to give me the capacity to finish my dinner and do my writing in bed, this late evening. Writing and Morphine don’t go so well together in my little body. I have heard that it enhances the artistic experience in others. I have not found that intoxication of any sort assists me in that way!
Today’s party and the last few days of Facebook acknowledgements have more than amply conveyed to me others’ appreciation of my existence and my contributions. I am affirmed, a little overwhelmed and a touch frustrated. I have reached the point where several plans are emerging. It is clear that my continued contribution is desired. At this point, my body is far, far, far from being up for it.
There is a somewhat macabre thought running through the last few days. Tomorrow is Halloween so perhaps this is all appropriate. I have thought in the past that I would love to have a great funeral but – Dammit! – I would have to miss it, wouldn’t I? The generous outpouring of affirmation, appreciation, intimacy and abundance that I have experienced in the last couple of weeks while I lie in my fragile and weakened state has made me think that, yes, I have gotten to experience what my wake would be like. And yes, thank God, I didn’t have to die to get it. Or at least not yet!
As more and more people are becoming aware of my efforts to manifest my expression, my unique perspective, I am learning that others have secretly been writing or thinking about writing in a similar vein. The difference is that I have just been putting it out there. How odd it is that I have such little sense of privacy. The theme has emerged and re-emerged over the past eight days, with a number of people quizzing me about whether I really want to let it all go to the public so freely. It has caused me to ponder a question that I would not have ever come up with on my own. Should I be more circumspect?
Well, in fact, from my perspective there is no “should” about it. Privacy doesn’t exist, or rather, exists only periodically and in short lived moments in my life.
No day has gone by when someone else didn’t wipe my butt, put food in my mouth, moved my limbs around, dressed and undressed me and otherwise handled my body as part of their own life path in some way – for better or worse. One of the consequences of this is that the “I” of Judith Snow tends to exist somewhat separately from my physical person. The flip side is that I easily enter into other people’s space – actually into their physical aura on occasion. What is privacy?
This has become somewhat of a theme in these writings. Boundaries.
I have rather enjoyed being on a urinary catheter for the past several weeks. This has given me much longer periods of time when I don’t have to interact with another physical person. For example, today after the party, I lay for over an hour in my bed by myself, mostly awake and shifting between watching the goings on outside my window and being with my thoughts. This provides for a certain kind of gathering – me giving myself a sense of continuity. It is a fiction of course, but a very interesting and useful fiction nonetheless. What is it that I am gathering? I suppose you could say that I am piecing together a new story of who I am and who I will be – a story that conforms both to the vast outreach that my life as achieved so far and at the same time the miniscule capacity that I currently have as a body.
In the past I have not reconciled these two bookends of my experience very well, though I am sure many will argue with this statement! I have either overtaxed my body self or I have (more commonly) forgotten how far my dreams and my expressions have reached in favour of thinking of myself as an unaccomplished person.
It would be awesome in Cycle 3 to willingly reach out as far as possible to bring peace and inclusion into the world and at the same time live as the physical being that I truly am – a small and ethereal albeit chubby body. Mother Theresa kind of pulled it off. She was a shrimp!
It puts me in mind of dreaming of just how to enjoy and take care of my body. In the past I have spent quite a bit of time thinking about how to keep myself participating, but not that much about how to keep myself comfortable and happy. This is a space I would like to explore more as I am laying around and recovering both from my illness and from the tests that I will shortly go through.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
3 Boats
On October 26, while laying in my bed, I painted this picture with Mike Skubic as my tracker. Felicia Galati and her mother and supporters were here painting as well. It was a moment of full expression with my community, especially a non-speaking person, Felicia, with me, surrounding me, fully presencing inclusion.
October 29 2010
My birthday, cycle 3, 1
Well I made it – I am thoroughly launched.
My friend, Jay, left early this afternoon after we shared a wonderful birthday breakfast made by Rose, Dom and Felicia – Helen here too, fetching, carrying, feeding and cleaning. This, as well as another amazing massage, started my day with perfection. The leaving time is difficult, as Jay is returning to Phoenix and his family, and who knows when I will see him again.
It is joyful to have Felicia here. She is one of those people I wrote about yesterday, who has the freedom to be fully self expressed without the necessity to engage in boundary setting, negotiations, planning and economic activity. Paradoxically it seems that Felicia is about to become the coordinator of Laser Eagles. The current one just quit. Everyone on the board thinks it’s wonderful idea. Felicia has her own money and her own staff and loves painting and is a regular attendee of the programme, and so she brings with her everything that is required to make it work, especially the understanding of how important this is to the artists. It is as if I have been given a new partner in one of my favourite expressions in life.
Jay and I had many conversations over the 2 days. It’s so funny how – well at least I’ll speak for myself – I approach the difficult conversations indirectly and it takes so long to get to the truth. But the 48 hours was good enough.
I have come to see something that makes a huge shift in how I see myself both as an actor in life and as a generator of intimate relationship. Jay pointed out how many people depend on me, not in the sense of abuse or manipulation but in the sense of anchoring a stable set of commitments and resources. I realise that there are many possible layers of intimacy and of contribution. Most of the people in my life, and perhaps myself, have settled for and even stolen the first layer, imagining that that is all that is available. They have (I have?) settled for taking the superficial and going no further.
A new approach that is open to me is to give freely the first level and also to make it clear to people that much much more is available. However to access these other levels real agreements and commitments must be made because one cannot pour out endlessly without the existence of mirrors that help one guide oneself, learn and see clearly into the depths of a not yet created future.
Practically speaking it looks like entering inclusion projects, like the video game project we are creating with WPIT, by saying to academics and organizational people, “You have seen the tip of the iceberg of what is possible and you are welcome to take it freely and shape it back into your own ideas if you wish. However if you want to truly take this potentially powerful tool and have it grow as an inclusive opportunity to shift the culture, you must enter into contracts with me that allow me to be sustained and to continuously work at keeping it inclusive.” In terms of my own personal relationships it’s a matter of saying: I loved something in you, and you loved something in me, and this is good and freely given. But much much more is available in my heart. If you want to build this we both must have the courage to commit to something greater than the superficial.
Somehow this is a very big shift for me, perhaps because I love so easily, but also because I want so much for people to see what inclusion can bring. I was unaware until yesterday how much I have participated in keeping people at the superficial level of engagement and in so doing have created my own loneliness and frustration. It is good to see it now as I don’t think cycle 3 could continue without a more respectful and firm foundation.
This is a powerful birthday present to myself. At this moment it brings a certain sense of fear, but that is only because I’m just beginning again – the anticipation fear of a new road just taken. It passes. It is not a problem.
Well I made it – I am thoroughly launched.
My friend, Jay, left early this afternoon after we shared a wonderful birthday breakfast made by Rose, Dom and Felicia – Helen here too, fetching, carrying, feeding and cleaning. This, as well as another amazing massage, started my day with perfection. The leaving time is difficult, as Jay is returning to Phoenix and his family, and who knows when I will see him again.
It is joyful to have Felicia here. She is one of those people I wrote about yesterday, who has the freedom to be fully self expressed without the necessity to engage in boundary setting, negotiations, planning and economic activity. Paradoxically it seems that Felicia is about to become the coordinator of Laser Eagles. The current one just quit. Everyone on the board thinks it’s wonderful idea. Felicia has her own money and her own staff and loves painting and is a regular attendee of the programme, and so she brings with her everything that is required to make it work, especially the understanding of how important this is to the artists. It is as if I have been given a new partner in one of my favourite expressions in life.
Jay and I had many conversations over the 2 days. It’s so funny how – well at least I’ll speak for myself – I approach the difficult conversations indirectly and it takes so long to get to the truth. But the 48 hours was good enough.
I have come to see something that makes a huge shift in how I see myself both as an actor in life and as a generator of intimate relationship. Jay pointed out how many people depend on me, not in the sense of abuse or manipulation but in the sense of anchoring a stable set of commitments and resources. I realise that there are many possible layers of intimacy and of contribution. Most of the people in my life, and perhaps myself, have settled for and even stolen the first layer, imagining that that is all that is available. They have (I have?) settled for taking the superficial and going no further.
A new approach that is open to me is to give freely the first level and also to make it clear to people that much much more is available. However to access these other levels real agreements and commitments must be made because one cannot pour out endlessly without the existence of mirrors that help one guide oneself, learn and see clearly into the depths of a not yet created future.
Practically speaking it looks like entering inclusion projects, like the video game project we are creating with WPIT, by saying to academics and organizational people, “You have seen the tip of the iceberg of what is possible and you are welcome to take it freely and shape it back into your own ideas if you wish. However if you want to truly take this potentially powerful tool and have it grow as an inclusive opportunity to shift the culture, you must enter into contracts with me that allow me to be sustained and to continuously work at keeping it inclusive.” In terms of my own personal relationships it’s a matter of saying: I loved something in you, and you loved something in me, and this is good and freely given. But much much more is available in my heart. If you want to build this we both must have the courage to commit to something greater than the superficial.
Somehow this is a very big shift for me, perhaps because I love so easily, but also because I want so much for people to see what inclusion can bring. I was unaware until yesterday how much I have participated in keeping people at the superficial level of engagement and in so doing have created my own loneliness and frustration. It is good to see it now as I don’t think cycle 3 could continue without a more respectful and firm foundation.
This is a powerful birthday present to myself. At this moment it brings a certain sense of fear, but that is only because I’m just beginning again – the anticipation fear of a new road just taken. It passes. It is not a problem.
October 28, 2010
Forty-three minutes to go until my 61st birthday.
Today has been flavored with confusion. This does not please me! I want to be blissed out and zoned out as much as have been most of the other days this week. But it seems I am recovering indeed and along with the recovery comes the capacity to get worried about shit.
Jay is going tomorrow, Lorraine is worried about my finances, Dad’s worried about infections and me getting under supported, the inevitable concern arose about whether the sudden stream of academics interested in WPIT video game building will take over and turn it into some non-inclusive, money making project – wrested from my hands again. Worries, concerns filling up my mind space!
Today held much much more than this. Jay and I had an amazing and almost solitary walk by the lake. Besides the ducks and the black squirrels we were virtually alone with the fading but amazing plants, the clouds, the deep gray cold water. Later at the café I was sung “happy birthday” in Arabic, accompanied by a dancing baby and several other wonderful people. It has been a day of exploring the possibility of genuine boundaries and deep spiral connection. I can feel health returning and there was much less pain as I sat up for several hours today.
Just the same this survival has a cost which currently seems painful. I must plan, I must focus, I must make decisions, and deal with consequences. This shift in my journey is somewhat like being allowed to be a baby - like when I was very sick and whatever moments of clarity and thought came through were real gifts to everyone. Now there is a demand! The demand that there be brackets in time frames and that I step into to a linear dichotomous and responsible way of being – to take my place as an adult among my peers.
I want this of course. Of course it is still out of my reach as well. My body is not ready for serious life. However clearly I am headed in that direction. I am actually somewhere in between – not truly ready to be a citizen but no longer granted the excuse to simply be.
Could it be that I am experiencing a moment of envy? Many of my labeled brothers and sisters show no inclination to participate in political/economic life. They contribute plenty without ever feeling the need to be in reciprocal and normative activities. Many people feel sorry for them that they exist in this space of being without responsible doing. Myself I can sense the illusion that I might enjoy long moments of such extraordinary freedom.
But it is an illusion and I am probably more responding at this moment to fatigue and intensity than anything real.
Just the same, ordinary life can become so worried and narrow. It is not a place that I want to be. I do not want to be bored to death by concern, no matter how practical and obvious it may be.
Well I guess it is not such a big deal. I am sure I will look back on today and recognize that I was simply experiencing re-entry.
There is a dream in here somewhere though. It is something about being deeply connected. It is not that I don’t have that – I have it more than most people have experienced. But somewhere there is an even richer dream. I can imagine, or at least barely sense, a world where everyone could experience something like this – some freedom from worry and concern, some capacity to be intensely present. Perhaps there is something beyond – something about the Star Raft that Jay introduced me to today, something where the economics sort themselves out and people just take care of each other.
It would seem that I am preparing to dive again and reach for this lustrous but illusive pearl.
Today has been flavored with confusion. This does not please me! I want to be blissed out and zoned out as much as have been most of the other days this week. But it seems I am recovering indeed and along with the recovery comes the capacity to get worried about shit.
Jay is going tomorrow, Lorraine is worried about my finances, Dad’s worried about infections and me getting under supported, the inevitable concern arose about whether the sudden stream of academics interested in WPIT video game building will take over and turn it into some non-inclusive, money making project – wrested from my hands again. Worries, concerns filling up my mind space!
Today held much much more than this. Jay and I had an amazing and almost solitary walk by the lake. Besides the ducks and the black squirrels we were virtually alone with the fading but amazing plants, the clouds, the deep gray cold water. Later at the café I was sung “happy birthday” in Arabic, accompanied by a dancing baby and several other wonderful people. It has been a day of exploring the possibility of genuine boundaries and deep spiral connection. I can feel health returning and there was much less pain as I sat up for several hours today.
Just the same this survival has a cost which currently seems painful. I must plan, I must focus, I must make decisions, and deal with consequences. This shift in my journey is somewhat like being allowed to be a baby - like when I was very sick and whatever moments of clarity and thought came through were real gifts to everyone. Now there is a demand! The demand that there be brackets in time frames and that I step into to a linear dichotomous and responsible way of being – to take my place as an adult among my peers.
I want this of course. Of course it is still out of my reach as well. My body is not ready for serious life. However clearly I am headed in that direction. I am actually somewhere in between – not truly ready to be a citizen but no longer granted the excuse to simply be.
Could it be that I am experiencing a moment of envy? Many of my labeled brothers and sisters show no inclination to participate in political/economic life. They contribute plenty without ever feeling the need to be in reciprocal and normative activities. Many people feel sorry for them that they exist in this space of being without responsible doing. Myself I can sense the illusion that I might enjoy long moments of such extraordinary freedom.
But it is an illusion and I am probably more responding at this moment to fatigue and intensity than anything real.
Just the same, ordinary life can become so worried and narrow. It is not a place that I want to be. I do not want to be bored to death by concern, no matter how practical and obvious it may be.
Well I guess it is not such a big deal. I am sure I will look back on today and recognize that I was simply experiencing re-entry.
There is a dream in here somewhere though. It is something about being deeply connected. It is not that I don’t have that – I have it more than most people have experienced. But somewhere there is an even richer dream. I can imagine, or at least barely sense, a world where everyone could experience something like this – some freedom from worry and concern, some capacity to be intensely present. Perhaps there is something beyond – something about the Star Raft that Jay introduced me to today, something where the economics sort themselves out and people just take care of each other.
It would seem that I am preparing to dive again and reach for this lustrous but illusive pearl.
October 27, 2010
Jay Klein’s Birthday
Jay came today. Helen and I picked him up at the airport just before 5pm Toronto time.
It was a beautiful bright cool and windy day. In every way today the colours have been bright, warm and inviting. I picked an old tee-shirt that Jay gave me more than 20 years ago and a pink cardigan to wear along with nearly pink corduroy pants. Bright. Helen and I did the laundry for three beds, and I put my brightest sheets back on. The colours of the faded leaves on our drive to and from the airport still hold intense brightness underneath the fadedness – a last sense of summer heat contained to aid survival over the winter and bring about a new batch of leaves in the spring.
I am enjoying the long moments of lying in my bed. I have recovered sufficiently to not be intensely engaged in my own discomforts. My Etobicoke apartment is a rich soundscape, from seagulls to teenage basketball to buses to midnight airplanes to screaming toddlers, to early morning garbage cans, and much, much more. Added to this is a colour scape made up mainly of objects I have held onto after years of many many, moves, especially the honing down time of living in the trailer. There is colour everywhere, some of it quite clashing, but playful and full of memories.
I have come very much to understand and appreciate why my mother in her early years of Alzheimer’s held a great deal of pleasure at simply looking out a window at construction workers fixing a roof or running a crane to build a new building. Each of these views is a bubble in itself – calling forth a stream of memories, a cascade of long forgotten faces, remembrance of fulfillment and regret. Past and present are intricately linked by colour and sound. Perhaps it is the task of the old simply to appreciate richness of experience.
Jay has come for two days, stepping back into an intimate relationship that had seemed to be lost. So much intimacy seems to be rebounding in my life after years of struggle and loss – or so it seemed at the time. We drove along from the airport to the hospital to my apartment reminiscing of other times and places we have met in Toronto. Long walks, breakfasts at dawn, moments of sorrow in a park as we realized would drift apart, fulfilment and non fulfilment both. But he is here now and it is his birthday and we have shared a beer. (No damn laxative tonight – cause I’m not mixing that many chemicals)
How much I have second guessed my future at every moment of my present. At age 30 I could never, never, never have imagined the richness of my 60s. I’m sure this is simply human to live in such constant doubt. But just the same it is truly amazing how I have underestimated my friends, my God and myself when it has been about imagining a possible future.
Perhaps at this early stage of cycle three I can trust that whatever is ahead of me is a million times worth whatever struggle it might take to make myself available.
I am willing.
Happy Birthday Jay.
Jay came today. Helen and I picked him up at the airport just before 5pm Toronto time.
It was a beautiful bright cool and windy day. In every way today the colours have been bright, warm and inviting. I picked an old tee-shirt that Jay gave me more than 20 years ago and a pink cardigan to wear along with nearly pink corduroy pants. Bright. Helen and I did the laundry for three beds, and I put my brightest sheets back on. The colours of the faded leaves on our drive to and from the airport still hold intense brightness underneath the fadedness – a last sense of summer heat contained to aid survival over the winter and bring about a new batch of leaves in the spring.
I am enjoying the long moments of lying in my bed. I have recovered sufficiently to not be intensely engaged in my own discomforts. My Etobicoke apartment is a rich soundscape, from seagulls to teenage basketball to buses to midnight airplanes to screaming toddlers, to early morning garbage cans, and much, much more. Added to this is a colour scape made up mainly of objects I have held onto after years of many many, moves, especially the honing down time of living in the trailer. There is colour everywhere, some of it quite clashing, but playful and full of memories.
I have come very much to understand and appreciate why my mother in her early years of Alzheimer’s held a great deal of pleasure at simply looking out a window at construction workers fixing a roof or running a crane to build a new building. Each of these views is a bubble in itself – calling forth a stream of memories, a cascade of long forgotten faces, remembrance of fulfillment and regret. Past and present are intricately linked by colour and sound. Perhaps it is the task of the old simply to appreciate richness of experience.
Jay has come for two days, stepping back into an intimate relationship that had seemed to be lost. So much intimacy seems to be rebounding in my life after years of struggle and loss – or so it seemed at the time. We drove along from the airport to the hospital to my apartment reminiscing of other times and places we have met in Toronto. Long walks, breakfasts at dawn, moments of sorrow in a park as we realized would drift apart, fulfilment and non fulfilment both. But he is here now and it is his birthday and we have shared a beer. (No damn laxative tonight – cause I’m not mixing that many chemicals)
How much I have second guessed my future at every moment of my present. At age 30 I could never, never, never have imagined the richness of my 60s. I’m sure this is simply human to live in such constant doubt. But just the same it is truly amazing how I have underestimated my friends, my God and myself when it has been about imagining a possible future.
Perhaps at this early stage of cycle three I can trust that whatever is ahead of me is a million times worth whatever struggle it might take to make myself available.
I am willing.
Happy Birthday Jay.
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