Thursday, December 3, 2015
The headlines are splattered in blood, and I am in my home.
I awake, drowsy. I light a candle, I sprinkle the room with blessed water, I say prayers as I run my fingers over smooth holy stones.
I take pills out of bottles swallow them out of hope.
The dog bowls get filled and hungry once homeless mouths feed happily. The cats weave in and out of my legs, down the hall, out the door, and bathe in the sun.
I follow them out and sit. I read a book that feeds my spirit. I shield my eyes and soak in the rays, trying to give myself nourishment from the sun my body desperately lacks. I worship under blue sky and sunlit leaves. My vision blurs.
I run my hands over thick, soft, red chow fur. I make a cup of tea. I load the dishwasher and feel drained, so I lay down again under soft blankets at the cats and dogs arrange themselves about me. I talk with friends on my phone, I make plans for later in the week, knowing that I need community desperately. Then I pull the blanket over my shoulders and nestle my face in the fur of my boy kitty and sleep.
The headlines are splattered in blood, and I am sleeping.
I dream of floating down a purple stream in the night sky, surrounded by stars. I dream about being pregnant. I dream about a million abstract ideas that are fun while I sleep but make little sense when I rise.
The headlines are splattered in blood, and I am dreaming.
I check my phone. Natural disaster, animals in need of rescue, lead ripping apart flesh and bone, interspersed with news of babies and family get togethers and jokes and news of upcoming films.
A world filled with such stark juxtaposition, in digital form, in my hands.
The headlines are splattered in blood, and I am web surfing.
Is this my life now, I wonder. a long tread toward death riddled with survivor's guilt? For not being able to do more?
The blind dog needs her eye medication. The dementia dog needs a massage. The friend needs a shoulder to lean on. The cabbage plant needs water.
"My work is loving the world," said Mary Oliver.
I resolve to love the small sphere I have been given, knowing that caring for myself is just as important, even though in this world of racing, I only stroll.
The headlines are splattered in blood, and my blood flows through me.
So I do the work I can do.
Posted by Marie Bacon at 7:22 PM