Good morning, dear friends around the world,
I thought you’d find it of interest to note that, several day back, our sons’ love arose before Will and me, via FaceTime. And as familial devotion loomed high over both of our parental heads, each of our adult offspring expressed personal discomfort, which all three have come to feel, at the thought of our entertaining patio visitors (though we’ve always, wisely, followed guidelines by social distancing 18 feet apart from no more than one couple invited at a time).
So clearly and logically distressed were each of our sons that Will and I (freely choosing to consider the depths of their discontent concerning our safekeeping) decided to follow their lead by ceasing to extend loving invitations to access our patio to anyone until reason for self quarantining ends, and so, having experienced role reversal for the very first time with our trio of sons (based in the depths of their love for us), our patio will now be as restricted to only Will and me as has been true of our home, and that edict will remain unchanged until the blessed day dawns when this pandemic corona virus is profoundly deemed history.
As to which portion of their argument won us over? The fact that too little has been conclusively proven about the virulent nature of this virus hit home. And most importantly, the depths of our sons’ love imploring us to heed their need for change on our part was too clearly conveyed for our hearts to ignore. In fact, they’ve convinced their dad to compose grocery lists while graciously appreciating the generosity of spirit of those younger, by far, than Will and me, who have offered to do our shopping, as shopping on line saw delivery dates ranging from one to two weeks away. No surprise, there.
Though Will and I, hoping to feel as independent as possible, remained on line, last evening, for more than two hours, our attempts to have groceries delivered sooner proved unsuccessful. And though what’s to be done, over the long run, remains up in the air, no worries arise at this time for this reason—our son, Steven (who lives near by) will surely come up with a plan that’ll keep us well fed in the event that Will’s ingenuity and mine take a hike.
And now my dear friends, feel my love flying face masked and rubber gloved across the miles, offering each of you a warm virtual, virus-free hug as we each take precautionary measures in hopes of remaining free and clear of this stubborn deadly little critter until such time as we can safely enjoy each other’s company, face to face, as had, just a few weeks ago, been taken completely for granted before so much about daily life had need to change quick as a blink of the eye,
(At 11am is it too early to indulge in dark chocolate? Sigh ...
Well, at times like these—why not? Just not, morning, noon and night, right?
😊Right
🙋🏻♀️❤️🌈🌻Annie
Tuesday, March 31, 2020
Monday, March 30, 2020
HAVING WORKED TOWARD DEVELOPING MY PROCESSOR’S CAPACITY TO BALANCE TWO FEELINGS AT ONCE, THIS PEACEFUL STATE OF MIND PROVIDES MY THINK TANK WITH YET ANOTHER WELL PRACTICED SKILL DURING MIND-BOGGLING TIMES
Here’s where skill comes in concerning balancing opposing emotions, simultaneously—I no longer feel conflicted. How can that be? As with everything else that develops from a wish into a reality—I chose to make sound use of patience, practice, and determination while working to achieve ever deepening degrees of personal success concerning retaining peace of mind each time an eruption of inner conflict was mine.
I find it interesting to note that, one day, a deeply penetrating sense of inner stillness can feel utterly peaceful while the same stillness on the next day somehow feels isolating. Generally, the difference between opposing attitudes will reflect which emotional reaction has been subconsciously aroused: one that unwittingly has been stimulated to arise from the past to weigh heavily on my spirit, yet again or one that flits so lightly within my think tank as to influence my spirit’s current level of buoyancy to float freely forward rather than feeling need to hunker down in readiness to withstand a torrential gale that had actually blown in, years ago at which time, my defense system decided to bury each gust of hot wind so deeply within the subconscious portion of my brain as to make the arousal of yesteryear’s emotional discomfort feel indistinguishable from new gusts of wind that may threaten to bowl my sense of inner balance to Timbuktu, today—so spontaneously does emotional reactivity usurp control over our processors by way of switching from logical reasoning to over-actively imagining that the worst possible outcome, which may or may not take place has already happened!
This morning, I came to realize that texting certain friends has begun to mirror blogging in that once I begin to philosophize, my brain spontaneously switches tracks as though all on its own from the conscious side of my mind to the intuitive side, where insight-driven trains of thought are released that tell ME what I really FEEL deep within my core behind denial’s self protective wall, where my darkest fears have remained buried alive though utterly repressed from the conscious portion of my thought processor, which I had ttrained, during my child-raising years, to focus mainly on tpositive outcomes so as to banish any fear of failure that might otherwise grow toward wildly overwhelming my connection to logic, which proves necessary to keeping my whole self feeling so well balanced as to hold inner conflict, which fogs up my thought processor’s natural capacity to function with clarity intact, at bay. Whew!
See what I mean? Though at first, the conscious portion of my brain began to write this post, within seconds, my power of intuitive thought usurped control over my processor and off we went toward excavating yet another deeper truth that my defense system has been hiding from me until, this morning, when intuition, believing me to have grown so courageous as to have recently taken yet another leap of faith, decided to talk turkey with me via busying my brain, writing to you.
, and thus, while penning one insight-driven train of thought after another, do I come to know more about my innermost self than had been true the day before.
BTW, my power of intuition has guided me to choose with whom to ‘speak’ with great caution, knowing that only birds of a feather fly well, over long distances, weathering storms that arise, together, and I’m forever grateful for the fact that our long distance friendship has chosen to fly on the same wave length without so much as a hiccup interfering with the depths of our heartfelt connection as you and I choose to make our adventurous way from one stage of life through to the next. How can my intuition know that last statement to be true? Well, every day, I choose to air my innermost self with those of you who freely choose to open your ear to that which I feel need to say.
On the other hand, choosing to listen to one another with open minds does not equate with agreeing, 100% of the time, so though you and I may be birds of a feather that doth not make clones of a pair of independent thinkers, whom you and I prove to be.
😊🙋🏻♀️❤️🌈🌻Annie
PS
Though something has begun to lumber around, heavily within my head, today, my spirit regains its balance each time one side of my think tank reminds the other that I’m the fortunate recipient of yet another in a steady string of ‘no worse’ days. On the other hand, knowing myself to feel unlike my openly loquacious self, that’s enough about me—How’s by you?
PSS
The fact that while raising my sons I chose to work toward consciously developing the mental skill necessary to balance opposing feelings without the eruption of inner conflict fogging up my sense of logic has worked well for me, over this past half century, and that’s most especially true, right now, when self quarantining for the common good must be clearly maintained for who knows how long—not me—sigh—I don’t have a clue—how ‘bout you? ...
BTW, a dear high school friend penned a poem, which has inspired many of my loved ones to smile and with her permission, I hope to enrich your spirit’s smile by way of cutting and pasting my friend , the poet’s heartfelt musings into tomorrow’s post ...
I find it interesting to note that, one day, a deeply penetrating sense of inner stillness can feel utterly peaceful while the same stillness on the next day somehow feels isolating. Generally, the difference between opposing attitudes will reflect which emotional reaction has been subconsciously aroused: one that unwittingly has been stimulated to arise from the past to weigh heavily on my spirit, yet again or one that flits so lightly within my think tank as to influence my spirit’s current level of buoyancy to float freely forward rather than feeling need to hunker down in readiness to withstand a torrential gale that had actually blown in, years ago at which time, my defense system decided to bury each gust of hot wind so deeply within the subconscious portion of my brain as to make the arousal of yesteryear’s emotional discomfort feel indistinguishable from new gusts of wind that may threaten to bowl my sense of inner balance to Timbuktu, today—so spontaneously does emotional reactivity usurp control over our processors by way of switching from logical reasoning to over-actively imagining that the worst possible outcome, which may or may not take place has already happened!
This morning, I came to realize that texting certain friends has begun to mirror blogging in that once I begin to philosophize, my brain spontaneously switches tracks as though all on its own from the conscious side of my mind to the intuitive side, where insight-driven trains of thought are released that tell ME what I really FEEL deep within my core behind denial’s self protective wall, where my darkest fears have remained buried alive though utterly repressed from the conscious portion of my thought processor, which I had ttrained, during my child-raising years, to focus mainly on tpositive outcomes so as to banish any fear of failure that might otherwise grow toward wildly overwhelming my connection to logic, which proves necessary to keeping my whole self feeling so well balanced as to hold inner conflict, which fogs up my thought processor’s natural capacity to function with clarity intact, at bay. Whew!
See what I mean? Though at first, the conscious portion of my brain began to write this post, within seconds, my power of intuitive thought usurped control over my processor and off we went toward excavating yet another deeper truth that my defense system has been hiding from me until, this morning, when intuition, believing me to have grown so courageous as to have recently taken yet another leap of faith, decided to talk turkey with me via busying my brain, writing to you.
, and thus, while penning one insight-driven train of thought after another, do I come to know more about my innermost self than had been true the day before.
BTW, my power of intuition has guided me to choose with whom to ‘speak’ with great caution, knowing that only birds of a feather fly well, over long distances, weathering storms that arise, together, and I’m forever grateful for the fact that our long distance friendship has chosen to fly on the same wave length without so much as a hiccup interfering with the depths of our heartfelt connection as you and I choose to make our adventurous way from one stage of life through to the next. How can my intuition know that last statement to be true? Well, every day, I choose to air my innermost self with those of you who freely choose to open your ear to that which I feel need to say.
On the other hand, choosing to listen to one another with open minds does not equate with agreeing, 100% of the time, so though you and I may be birds of a feather that doth not make clones of a pair of independent thinkers, whom you and I prove to be.
😊🙋🏻♀️❤️🌈🌻Annie
PS
Though something has begun to lumber around, heavily within my head, today, my spirit regains its balance each time one side of my think tank reminds the other that I’m the fortunate recipient of yet another in a steady string of ‘no worse’ days. On the other hand, knowing myself to feel unlike my openly loquacious self, that’s enough about me—How’s by you?
PSS
The fact that while raising my sons I chose to work toward consciously developing the mental skill necessary to balance opposing feelings without the eruption of inner conflict fogging up my sense of logic has worked well for me, over this past half century, and that’s most especially true, right now, when self quarantining for the common good must be clearly maintained for who knows how long—not me—sigh—I don’t have a clue—how ‘bout you? ...
BTW, a dear high school friend penned a poem, which has inspired many of my loved ones to smile and with her permission, I hope to enrich your spirit’s smile by way of cutting and pasting my friend , the poet’s heartfelt musings into tomorrow’s post ...
Sunday, March 29, 2020
IMAGINATION—OVER ACTIVE OR PRO ACTIVE—A MATTER OF PERSONAL CHOICE
During hard times it’s hard not to worry to distraction about whether this or that may happen.
That’s why, I’ve trained my brain to switch tracks as soon as I realize that fear, having hijacked my think tank’s natural connection to logic, is taking me to worrisome places driven by my over active imagination instead of calming myself by choosing to plug my processor into my proactive imagination, which will take me to positively focused places, which also exist inside my head.
So, fear, being a mindset based in attitude, is oftentimes a matter of choice.
You see, it’s during hard times that the natural manifestation of fear may arise unless defensive denial can help to maintain my emotional balance as long as Denialand does not become a place where your friend, Annie, takes up permanent residency as proved true when the conscious portion of my mind was denied access to this deeper truth over most of my life:
No way did I see myself as a deeply confounded, terrified child, who, with ever-ready smile in place, visited doctor after doctor with my mother, who’d sought advice as to why I’d scratched my arms till they’d bled, night after night, as if something terrible was itching to get out from under my skin—something like a secret so horrendous that my subconscious kept it buried (alive) repressed so deeply and completely inside that no memory whatsoever of certain events disturbed the conscious portion of my brain ...
When it comes to denial of a pathological nature, I believe trump views his presidency from the heights of Denialand, and the same must be true of those adults, who are socializing as if lock downs and lay offs at work offer reason to vacation with family and friends, whose combined lack of common sense will be reason enough for this virus to spread from one to another instead of dying down based in having minimal contact with new hosts.
Unfortunately, reality suggests that two sides of human nature vie for control of our brains, highlighting why a few ignoramuses will persist in acting in such irresponsible ways as to undermine the best intentions of most, prolonging our need to self quarantine. Geez ...
It’s a strange, deeply perplexing yet incredibly interesting time for folks of every age. If mass confusion proves to be the first stage of massive changes yet to be seen then your choice of attitude will help or hinder determining factors as to whether tomorrow’s unforeseen changes will manifest in positive or negative ways for you and by way of your leadership, your family, too.
May the force of doing good for humankind be within you ...
🙋🏻♀️😊Annie
PS
We’re expecting our closest friends, who live just down the street, to drive over, momentarily, to enjoy a patio visit, sitting 12 feet away (for good measure) from Will and me—one of the perks of living in a warm winter climate, though that won’t be possible once the desert heat fires up, frying bare feet heading toward our patio spa, lickitysplit. And that’s just one reason as to why, hopefully, self quarantining will be a thing of the past by the time summer’s sunbeams flare up and fan out, like a peacock, which, if not protected by air cooling shade, would fry to a crisp along with human beings as we’re not meant to survive the brutal consequences of defying summertime’s desert sunshine.
🙋🏻♀️🥰Annie
That’s why, I’ve trained my brain to switch tracks as soon as I realize that fear, having hijacked my think tank’s natural connection to logic, is taking me to worrisome places driven by my over active imagination instead of calming myself by choosing to plug my processor into my proactive imagination, which will take me to positively focused places, which also exist inside my head.
So, fear, being a mindset based in attitude, is oftentimes a matter of choice.
You see, it’s during hard times that the natural manifestation of fear may arise unless defensive denial can help to maintain my emotional balance as long as Denialand does not become a place where your friend, Annie, takes up permanent residency as proved true when the conscious portion of my mind was denied access to this deeper truth over most of my life:
No way did I see myself as a deeply confounded, terrified child, who, with ever-ready smile in place, visited doctor after doctor with my mother, who’d sought advice as to why I’d scratched my arms till they’d bled, night after night, as if something terrible was itching to get out from under my skin—something like a secret so horrendous that my subconscious kept it buried (alive) repressed so deeply and completely inside that no memory whatsoever of certain events disturbed the conscious portion of my brain ...
When it comes to denial of a pathological nature, I believe trump views his presidency from the heights of Denialand, and the same must be true of those adults, who are socializing as if lock downs and lay offs at work offer reason to vacation with family and friends, whose combined lack of common sense will be reason enough for this virus to spread from one to another instead of dying down based in having minimal contact with new hosts.
Unfortunately, reality suggests that two sides of human nature vie for control of our brains, highlighting why a few ignoramuses will persist in acting in such irresponsible ways as to undermine the best intentions of most, prolonging our need to self quarantine. Geez ...
It’s a strange, deeply perplexing yet incredibly interesting time for folks of every age. If mass confusion proves to be the first stage of massive changes yet to be seen then your choice of attitude will help or hinder determining factors as to whether tomorrow’s unforeseen changes will manifest in positive or negative ways for you and by way of your leadership, your family, too.
May the force of doing good for humankind be within you ...
🙋🏻♀️😊Annie
PS
We’re expecting our closest friends, who live just down the street, to drive over, momentarily, to enjoy a patio visit, sitting 12 feet away (for good measure) from Will and me—one of the perks of living in a warm winter climate, though that won’t be possible once the desert heat fires up, frying bare feet heading toward our patio spa, lickitysplit. And that’s just one reason as to why, hopefully, self quarantining will be a thing of the past by the time summer’s sunbeams flare up and fan out, like a peacock, which, if not protected by air cooling shade, would fry to a crisp along with human beings as we’re not meant to survive the brutal consequences of defying summertime’s desert sunshine.
🙋🏻♀️🥰Annie
Saturday, March 28, 2020
ARE YOU GRACIOUSLY ENJOYING YET ANOTHER NO WORSE DAY?
Good morning,
Based in insights added to my last post, this morning, the date of this train of thought suggests its having been written, today. Why? For reasons that prove too complicated to try to express concerning how posting works on this site. So without further ado, let’s move forward until insights added this morning pop up as if to say—hi, glad to meet you. I’m here in hopes of simplifying or clarifying trains of thought concerning the fact that attitude is a choice.
Since ‘attitude is everything’, picture me awakening, this morning, choosing to enjoy yet another not worse day (my way of saying chemo is not piercing my body with hot spots of misery, and in hopes of my not jinxing this vast improvement in how I’m feeling, which has offered me such a positive change for the better over past chemo protocols, I feel truly happy at not needing to be hospitalized combatting multiple life threatening complications based in side effects, which proved so powerfully debilitating that in the absence of astute medical attention, 24/7, the ‘cure’ would have knocked me out, relegating the fighter at my core to have gone down for the count.)
On the other hand, knowing myself to be a pacifist ‘fighter’, stoked with the inner fires of MLK, here I am, withstanding yet another round of chemo, my never-give-up heartfelt attitude pumping chemically readjusted, protocol cocktail #3 throughout my blood stream while the sum of my body parts, working in tandem, mirror my hopes to stand in the winner circle, feeling eager to engage with healthy loved ones once the death threats of corona and my heart-lung surgery are history ...
As to master bathroom cabinet cleaning, I completed that task, feeling masterful, last night. Hooray for my ability to create change for the better, which proved to be within my personal power to control! As to items withdrawn from cabinets, which have not been put to use for years, they’ve been neatly arranged within two good sized, cardboard boxes, because each of these items, all of which are as good as new, will be graciously coveted by the residents of my favorite woman’s shelter, where our donations are always so gratefully welcomed. Why my ‘favorite’ shelter! Because women (battered by those who profess to love them) who had to muster the courage to flee from abuse in favor of seeking asylum along with their children are taught by professionals to develop a personal sense of self respect within a campus, locked down to safeguard their right to live free of attack, first in a dormitory setting, advancing to one and two bedroom apartments, and once residents have been schooled as how best to support themselves and their children, over time, jobs are procured, readying each family to move out and function on its own, having spent two years moving from one stage of personal growth to the next until in-coming attitudes based in mindsets of complete dependency have been guided, compassionately, toward taking a series of leaps of faith, the sum of which culminates in the development of a well balanced life, based in having accomplished the mental work necessary absorb an attitude of independent self-reliance based in self respect.
And now, on to my next thought, highlighting an echo-cardiogram, scheduled on April 3rd (followed by my first appointment with a Cancer cardiologist, whom we’ve yet to meet). If this study of heart/lung function shows my current protocol of chemo deactivating invasive damage done by the tumor without having caused more harm to my heart, I’ll have won the lottery! (If by chance this hope was aired in a previous post—well, it has been a proactive part of my think tank for weeks ... )
Fingers and toes double crossed, between now and April 3rd will cause writing and walking to be quite a feat, but no worries, please, because I’ll manage to stay in touch, most every day, for this reason— reaching out to connect with you in some deeply meaningful way buoys my spirit so as to see me awakening feeling purposeful, every day. And a life well lived, which is a purpose driven life, is what I aim to keep fully fueled as long as the sum of my parts, which continues to function very well, inspires my renewed sense of wholesome wholeness to stoke each next train of thought as engineered by my spirit’s intuitive powers to plant seeds of thought via cyberspace concerning everyone’s brand new chance to create change for the better, which I hope (as a disciple of Gandhi’s) my posts will inspire throughout our deeply worried world now that Rip Van Winkles, around the globe, have awakened with pressing need to confront pandemic fear by mustering the courage and humility necessary to pull together (six feet apart) in hopes of expanding yesteryear’s closed mindsets so as to openly seek creative solutions to problems shoved under the rug for so long as to have remained ignored by one generation after the next until the buck stopped here based in today’s mind boggling domino effect, which, no doubt, brainiacs will, one day (making sound use of hindsight) gain insight into leading the rest of us to comprehend ... and of that, my dizzied brain is certain.
Five year old Ravi is now choosing to FaceTime me. What fun! She and I visit with her favorite toys. When she wants Papa to join us, she yells—Papaaaa! Then she tries—Honeyyyy! And finally—Willlll, I need you!! LOL😊
Annie 🙋🏻♀️🌈🌻🎈
PS
Phone just rang.
Friends from Seattle, enjoying winter home in the desert
Are coming over, this afternoon, to visit on our patio, where
They’ll sit separated from Will and me, twelve feet apart😊
Based in insights added to my last post, this morning, the date of this train of thought suggests its having been written, today. Why? For reasons that prove too complicated to try to express concerning how posting works on this site. So without further ado, let’s move forward until insights added this morning pop up as if to say—hi, glad to meet you. I’m here in hopes of simplifying or clarifying trains of thought concerning the fact that attitude is a choice.
Since ‘attitude is everything’, picture me awakening, this morning, choosing to enjoy yet another not worse day (my way of saying chemo is not piercing my body with hot spots of misery, and in hopes of my not jinxing this vast improvement in how I’m feeling, which has offered me such a positive change for the better over past chemo protocols, I feel truly happy at not needing to be hospitalized combatting multiple life threatening complications based in side effects, which proved so powerfully debilitating that in the absence of astute medical attention, 24/7, the ‘cure’ would have knocked me out, relegating the fighter at my core to have gone down for the count.)
On the other hand, knowing myself to be a pacifist ‘fighter’, stoked with the inner fires of MLK, here I am, withstanding yet another round of chemo, my never-give-up heartfelt attitude pumping chemically readjusted, protocol cocktail #3 throughout my blood stream while the sum of my body parts, working in tandem, mirror my hopes to stand in the winner circle, feeling eager to engage with healthy loved ones once the death threats of corona and my heart-lung surgery are history ...
As to master bathroom cabinet cleaning, I completed that task, feeling masterful, last night. Hooray for my ability to create change for the better, which proved to be within my personal power to control! As to items withdrawn from cabinets, which have not been put to use for years, they’ve been neatly arranged within two good sized, cardboard boxes, because each of these items, all of which are as good as new, will be graciously coveted by the residents of my favorite woman’s shelter, where our donations are always so gratefully welcomed. Why my ‘favorite’ shelter! Because women (battered by those who profess to love them) who had to muster the courage to flee from abuse in favor of seeking asylum along with their children are taught by professionals to develop a personal sense of self respect within a campus, locked down to safeguard their right to live free of attack, first in a dormitory setting, advancing to one and two bedroom apartments, and once residents have been schooled as how best to support themselves and their children, over time, jobs are procured, readying each family to move out and function on its own, having spent two years moving from one stage of personal growth to the next until in-coming attitudes based in mindsets of complete dependency have been guided, compassionately, toward taking a series of leaps of faith, the sum of which culminates in the development of a well balanced life, based in having accomplished the mental work necessary absorb an attitude of independent self-reliance based in self respect.
And now, on to my next thought, highlighting an echo-cardiogram, scheduled on April 3rd (followed by my first appointment with a Cancer cardiologist, whom we’ve yet to meet). If this study of heart/lung function shows my current protocol of chemo deactivating invasive damage done by the tumor without having caused more harm to my heart, I’ll have won the lottery! (If by chance this hope was aired in a previous post—well, it has been a proactive part of my think tank for weeks ... )
Fingers and toes double crossed, between now and April 3rd will cause writing and walking to be quite a feat, but no worries, please, because I’ll manage to stay in touch, most every day, for this reason— reaching out to connect with you in some deeply meaningful way buoys my spirit so as to see me awakening feeling purposeful, every day. And a life well lived, which is a purpose driven life, is what I aim to keep fully fueled as long as the sum of my parts, which continues to function very well, inspires my renewed sense of wholesome wholeness to stoke each next train of thought as engineered by my spirit’s intuitive powers to plant seeds of thought via cyberspace concerning everyone’s brand new chance to create change for the better, which I hope (as a disciple of Gandhi’s) my posts will inspire throughout our deeply worried world now that Rip Van Winkles, around the globe, have awakened with pressing need to confront pandemic fear by mustering the courage and humility necessary to pull together (six feet apart) in hopes of expanding yesteryear’s closed mindsets so as to openly seek creative solutions to problems shoved under the rug for so long as to have remained ignored by one generation after the next until the buck stopped here based in today’s mind boggling domino effect, which, no doubt, brainiacs will, one day (making sound use of hindsight) gain insight into leading the rest of us to comprehend ... and of that, my dizzied brain is certain.
Five year old Ravi is now choosing to FaceTime me. What fun! She and I visit with her favorite toys. When she wants Papa to join us, she yells—Papaaaa! Then she tries—Honeyyyy! And finally—Willlll, I need you!! LOL😊
My sweet grand daughter feels deeply perplexed as to why she can’t come to play with me since I was sick for quite some time when we’d cuddled up before—she finds it hard to understand why some kinds of sickness can’t be caught while others can. Or why I can be sick with one illness for quite a while but better not complicate matters by catching that one—on the other hand, why should a five year old understand any of this at her tender age when there’s so much we can’t understand no matter how advanced our age becomes ... sooo
As long as all of my loved ones are well and hopes of a surgical cure of my cancer remain center-pieced on our dining table, every day of this quiet life continues to feel like a gift to graciously enjoy, no matter how uneventful each hour of every day continues to feel—L’chaim!
Annie 🙋🏻♀️🌈🌻🎈
PS
Phone just rang.
Friends from Seattle, enjoying winter home in the desert
Are coming over, this afternoon, to visit on our patio, where
They’ll sit separated from Will and me, twelve feet apart😊
Thursday, March 26, 2020
CREATIVITY IS STIMULATED IN THE ABSENCE OF HABIT
First things first—today’s lengthy train of thought will be published without editing mistakes or it may continue to grow ever longer ... one portion, concerning birds of a feather thriving together is so convoluted as to beg for editing; so please skate over that passage as carefully as you would a rough parch of ice, because that train of thought, though a bit tough to get through, makes very good sense.
Firstly again (since, to my way of thinking, the subject of love takes precedence over all else) as I’d missed the birthday of a very dear friend, rather than flogging my aging memory, here is what my heart felt need to convey, today: I know you feel my love, everyday, just as yours is always with me, because our love has become as pure, through and through, as is ‘true love’, which describes heartfelt emotion cleansed of thoughts running along tracks of judgmental defensiveness.
My friend’s response? Our hearts are as one. Except, she, being much less wordy than me, condensed her reply into one word—YES! 🥰
Secondly, my sixth infusion of chemo (or 11th if each 24 hour infusion over five days of my first hospitalization is counted, individually) went well, yesterday. Hooray!
Three and a half months have gone by while a variety of tumor killers have been dripped, cautiously into my blood stream ... oh my! So far, the only side effect from yesterday’s cocktail is my need to sleep large portions of today away—no surprise there.
If my next echocardiogram, scheduled on April 3rd, shows this current protocol of chemo deactivating the tumor without exacerbating heart failure, I’ll have won the lottery, hands down.
Thirdly, most of my 3 hours in the chemo chair, today, were spent tracking down TP on line to no avail.
The only people who have no need to forage for TP are US Senators, holding tight to their Republican seats, so scared sh-tless are these gutless ninnies of being stripped of their power that they’ll continue to sit on vital legislation until finding themselves tarred, feathered and run out of D.C. along with their brainless leader, trump, whom we’ll finally see dragging his cronies, who have stuck to their guns, down for the count while this megalomaniac remains so busy tweeting lies that his mad hatters will attribute his loss of the presidency, come Election Day in November, as having been due to fraudulent voting booths or some other tomfoolery that is sure to stimulate red hatters on the hunt to disparage every minority group, which proved vulnerable, during trump’s administration, to verbal attack, no astute questions asked—no intelligent answers given.
And now, as my mind wanders, here and there, until my re-chemo’d brain feels another cat nap, coming on, here’s yet another consequence resultant of fear of the corona virus running rampant through our streets: Yesterday, Will and I felt a mutual sense of curiosity arising upon finding the empty lobby and corridors of hospital and clinic resembling neighboring ghost towns. Upon asking a staff member—Why? We were told that in preparation for pandemic contagion to spike, only critical care patients are being seen. As many chemo chairs seen in cubicles were empty, I asked why, again. Patients, at different stages of treatment, are cancelling appointments so as to stay home. My gosh. We’ve set our sights on an illness that scares some more than cancer! Who’d have ever thought ...
The day before yesterday, Will drove to Costco on senior day (Tues/Thurs) arriving at 7:20 am, 40 minutes before the 65’n up club was granted early admittance into the warehouse by a police escort. After parking his car, Will’s eye, following the line up of seniors, found himself moseying round the corner of the main entrance only to feel flabbergasted to see the line number at least 300 people, monitored by employees to stand 6 feet apart. Once the doors opened at 8am, as planned, the line began to move while the aforementioned policeman, standing guard at the entrance, counted a finite number, who were allowed in to shop, primarily for paper goods with, as was true of Will, TP topping their lists, and not until an elder, who’d completed his/her purchases, pushed a cart filled with supplies back toward the parking lot, was the next in line let in.
Upon watching this line of 300 move forward as slow as molasses, Will chose not wait, believing himself too late to procure the treasure coveted by this portion of our nation’s population whose conversations revolve around bathroom issues a bit more often with each birthday, which seems to roll around twice each year so quickly do the numbers add up, and with that deeper truth standing in line, 300 deep, beginning at 6am, do we come to see why folks of a certain age feel need to stock pile mega rolls of TP as well hand sanitizer, which is put to good use each time TP, having been unrolled, has been flushed away once the aged, who also stock pile Depends, arise from the porcelain god with need to squirt sanitizer into an upturned palm while flashing the bathroom mirror a smile of success.
As Will believed that his early bird arrival was too late to be counted amongst those fortune shoppers who would have filled their carts and checked out (standing six feet apart) before treasure troves of TP had proved sold out, he made an about face and marched toward his car rather than awaiting his turn to be admitted into Costco’s inner sanctum by a seriously armed guard in case the aged chose to storm the bastille ...
Though I wonder what we’ll choose to use if our supply of TP does not last to meet future demands, the possibility of running out of TP offers me no reason to fret, as of yet, and here’s why that’s true:
Creativity is stimulated in the absence of habit.
And along with that line of thinking—
Yesterday happened to be my grandson, Tony’s tenth birthday.
And in a timely fashion, our whole family shouted out with a festive—Happy Tenth Birthday, Tony!
Tony’s perspective: ‘This is my most important b/d, so far, because it’s my first with two digits!’ and then his declaration provoked a few tears in need of shedding before Tony’s giggles rolled all around the spacious kitchen floor while our entire family (meeting up on the House Party app) sang Happy Birthday in such an utterly unsynchronized fashion that could only be worsened by the level of loudness, which proved ear-piercingly out of tune. And a merry old time was enjoyed by one and all!
If we stop to think about Tony’s original, age appropriate dismay over his birthday party having been postponed, indefinitely, we come to see that this newly double digits birthday boy is too young to conceptualize international problems of pandemic proportions, and in addition to that deeper truth, he’s rightfully missing his friends something fierce. I mean, really, who, at any age, can actually comprehend the gargantuan nature of today’s reality, which highlights our world spiraling, on and on, being that none has a glimmer of a clue as to how long this unnatural twist of fate, which has flipped daily life on a global scope, turtle-like on its back with no end in sight, will continue to remain beyond leadership’s creative control, especially since the leadership of our nation is made up of ostrich+like creatures—tiny heads buried silent yet alive in quicksand, too many having fearfully taken on the role of yes men when the rat leading us into hell uh, make that the red hatted red neck at the helm cannot stop lying through his two front teeth every time he stands before the American people, showing his lack of smarts to be every bit as naked as The Emperor, who strutted about town wearing no clothes to cover his shame, looking every bit as far from presidential as does the manic baboon who can’t possibly still be hogging The Oval Office, solely for his own good. Seriously!
Months before my cancer diagnosis blew my mind, I decided to take a much needed break of who knows what length from watching the news, being that, for the most part, stories presented by anchors served to heighten emotional reactions, which proved less than healthy before melodramatic music deepened my feeling awfully frustrated, infuriated and terribly saddened when word about trump switched tracks to emaciated tots found chained in dark closets, having been beaten and starved half to death for acting out with behaviors that prove age appropriate, most especially when small fry, who have been tortured, repeatedly, know no other life. In short, these true stories, accompanied by dramatic musical displays stresses me out, they could not be my bedtime stories just before I’d lay my head down to sleep with hopes of sweet dreams dancing on my pillow ...
Today, while riding his bike with Ravi (5) my son, Steven, saw two teams of young adults crashing into each other’s sweaty bodies while stealing a soccer ball from each other—so what part of 6feet apart, during pandemic crises, do they not understand as being vital to their health as well as the health of our nation and their loved ones, who may catch this highly contagious, deadly virus from toying adults who do not take this calamity seriously—for example, what if by shopping, lovingly, for their aging, thus vulnerable, high risk parents, these offspring, having incubated the virus, unwittingly pass it forward to the two people the soccer player most wants to protect.
If people would discipline themselves fo social distance for only a month, the pandemic nature of this health disaster may begin to minimize rather than maximize. I heard that this virulent virus does not survive rising temperatures? I mean with false news permeating our connection to trust, who knows what to believe? Certainly not the person who died after hearing trump declare that a chemical in
His fish tank could be a cure ...
Thank goodness birds of a feather are creating ways to enjoy friends and fam by making good use of social media while remaining separated by at least six feet.
Gotta love it when the intuitive portion of our brains feels stimulated by startling events to unlock our rusty imaginations, freeing creativity to arise just as magically as did The Phoenix from its ashes. Tony and Ray plan to meet their friends at a BMX bike park, where social distancing will be parentally enforced. And Ravi’s neighborhood concocted an outdoors treasure hunt, much to the children’s (and parents’) delight.
As we miss our friends, just as is true of Tony, as long as chemo rests me kindly, we plan to invite our friends to visit on our patio, 12 feet apart ... just in case six proves not enough ...
Seriously, why, in the aftermath of horrific events, do some spirits screech toward a thudding stop, as though sticking to a spider web from which creativity is never freed to enjoy the light of day, and thus, based in negative energy, freed, the grass looks greener etc. etc.whereas positively focused spirits fly in flocks of birds of a feather whose bird eye view of bigger pictures adjoin puzzling pieces of life in hopes that untold changes for the better will move forward before anyone can clip their wings, so that rather than conjuring up novel ways of thriving, they find themselves hobbled with those, caught in that web, whose spirits are barely surviving, based in the absence of hindsight, which offers insight to those whose brains, trained to act like rubber balls, bounce away from defensive walls so as to explore aspects of life never experienced before as exemplified by a child, whose terrified experience with family tragedy offered her unbridled imagination sound reason to develop the mentality to think (for herself) out of the box so as to create a subconscious utopia of her home life once her defense system blocked the conscious portion of her brain from feeling scared, half to death, by not share her fears, problems, short comings or vulnerabilities, which remained hidden behind her ready smile with anyone, inclusive of herself until, as an adult, psycho-therapy appealed to her intuitive intelligence once she was parenting children of her own, who, though innocent of evildoers lurking in their midst, who might people their lives, looked up to Mom, whose eagle eye remained wide open to keep each of her young safe from anyone who may have betrayed their trust, harboring thoughts of doing them harm—as she had had no clue of happening to her, and though no conscious memory of having been sexually abused marred my ‘idyllic vision of my childhood, my subconscious kept hold of memories so terrifying as to have been buried alive, festering every bit as raw as had been true when my processor was too inexperienced to understand what was being done, secretly to me, though intuitively I’d felt wronged and in the wrong simultaneously so as to have been a good little girl repressing feelings of guilt concerning being damaged goods, and with time, you and I will come to see how natural instinct ‘speaks’ to all species of animal life at every age once stories unfold about a deeply confounded, sexually abused little girl, who grew to adulthood with no conscious clue of having harbored a mental block too terrifying to remember, over most of my life—even so ... rather than being a survivor, Ive always felt my spirit to be a thriver capable of creative leadership, and in keeping with tiday’s Insight driven train of thought, written by my brain’s power of intuition—
NOT ON MY WATCH WOULD ANY BULLY TRESPASS UPON MY SONS’ SELF RESPECT!
As I’m sure is true of you, my ears are ringing with examples of people, social distancing for safety sake, while their recently reawakened imaginations conjure up creative ways to make sound use of social media to enjoy each other’s company without swapping germs. In fact, ever since this virus scared the bejesus out of everyone, my loved ones, (extended family and friends), both near and far, have been keeping closer tabs on one another than had been true just a few weeks back when every day life had felt far too fast paced and mentally grueling to stop long enough to warmly welcome a new neighbor to the block party, which, thank goodness, our current neighborhood organizes, now and then. As a matter of fact, have you ever had cause to wonder how many neighbors, who live on your block or in your building, today, your memory could point out (much less name) in a casual line up of strangers? Thank goodness, I began a book club in my neighborhood, twenty years back and nursed its fledgling years until our literary club of five or six developed wings of its own as strangers, whose patio homes had been built all in a row dotted the foothills of my mountain, as block after block of retirees grew to be friends. And you can believe me when I say that lots has happened, both happy and sad, in sickness and in health as couples, who grew to care deeply about one another, changed or did not, with the times ...
When my sons were boys, riding bikes everywhere within the invisible boundaries of our original neighborhood, where house number one of three continues to exist, they felt free to play safely outside in the southwestern desert, with my blessing, as had felt natural to their dad and me when we grew up riding bikes to meet friends in the park with no clue that stranger danger might be lurking near the merry go round, slide or swings ... all my sons and I’d felt was the surety that if anything in the warm and sunny, happy go lucky Southwestern desert, where we chose to raise our boys, outdoors, every neighbor on both sides of our block as well as many others throughout our development (based in our having had a private community club house, spacious, sparkling well tended pool, brand new tennis court and horse shoe game, all of which existed kiddy-corner from our first home), created an idyllic setting in which daily life felt safe from big city strife. With wonderful stories concerning community (and one horrific auto accident thrown in for good measure) to pen about raising our boys within this quintessential, little piece of Americana, I wish to release the storyteller, who dwells inside my brain, which has switched tracks ever since cancer undermined the robust nature of my health.
Though our sons began to call, pretty much every day, since my cancer diagnosis created reason for each of us to feel a growing sense of familial alarm, this week, our whole family began to make good use of FaceTime to enjoy each other’s company, individually as well as, all at once. And though that proves a bit chaotic with three rambunctious munchkins chiming in regardless of who’s speaking to whom, we’re all so eager to enjoy this feeling of togetherness that no lessons in manners disrupt the magical wavelength created by love flowing freely through cyberspace connecting four households, separated, not just by miles but by fear of one of us catching and spreading a deadly virus, as well.
So here’s what I’m seeing though I’ve been pretty much quarantined within my current home for months—instead of paying a fortune to run on treadmills in sweaty gyms, my neighbors, living in our sun drenched climate, are walking outside for free, conversing freely with each other about this and that while safely, thus wisely, complying with social distancing, six feet apart.
Families are suddenly seen hiking, biking, playing games as well as cooking and enjoying meals, together, as had been true when my sons, forming a non-stop trio of pure energy, flashing from room to room, heard my voice call out—That’s outside play, and standing soldier-like while holding open our sliding, glass patio door, I’d direct all three boys and their fully energized friends, faces flushed as though spirits, fully lit, emanating from deep within each active body, had been primed to run a marathon, however, being kids in shorts and tees with scraped elbows and knees, rather than adhering to a rigorous training schedule, they’d simply run outdoors to play games which prove every bit as rough and tumble, today, as have been around since naked young lads were directed by grunts, wielding clubs, to stop throwing stones at each other in favor of casting rocks aimed at the heads of eatable wildlife seen scampering away from nearby primitive dwellings, which proved to be caves.
Seriously, if some things concerning human nature never change while others are certain to cave in on the spor then why, in the aftermath of personal tragedy, do some spirits screech to a thudding stop, as though stuck within a spider’s web when the rest of life seems to move forward at a clip? In answer to a question as profound as that, I have experienced sound reason to conclusively believe that positively focused attitudes strengthened with purified injections of love and respect begin to offer evidence of my power of intuitive thought’s expansive capacity to make sound use of hindsight to gain inter-related strings of insight as to why I grew up to see myself as a thriving leader of groups rather than feeling like a crowd-following survivor, beginning in kindergarten (that storyline has already been published in a series of posts), moving forward right up until and inclusive of posting stories, overflowing with insights gained, day by day, until serious illness snared my think tank into a web created by sound reason to fear for my life ...
BTW, have I told you what happened when my mother’s voice called out—Annie—late last week?
Firstly again (since, to my way of thinking, the subject of love takes precedence over all else) as I’d missed the birthday of a very dear friend, rather than flogging my aging memory, here is what my heart felt need to convey, today: I know you feel my love, everyday, just as yours is always with me, because our love has become as pure, through and through, as is ‘true love’, which describes heartfelt emotion cleansed of thoughts running along tracks of judgmental defensiveness.
My friend’s response? Our hearts are as one. Except, she, being much less wordy than me, condensed her reply into one word—YES! 🥰
Secondly, my sixth infusion of chemo (or 11th if each 24 hour infusion over five days of my first hospitalization is counted, individually) went well, yesterday. Hooray!
Three and a half months have gone by while a variety of tumor killers have been dripped, cautiously into my blood stream ... oh my! So far, the only side effect from yesterday’s cocktail is my need to sleep large portions of today away—no surprise there.
If my next echocardiogram, scheduled on April 3rd, shows this current protocol of chemo deactivating the tumor without exacerbating heart failure, I’ll have won the lottery, hands down.
Thirdly, most of my 3 hours in the chemo chair, today, were spent tracking down TP on line to no avail.
The only people who have no need to forage for TP are US Senators, holding tight to their Republican seats, so scared sh-tless are these gutless ninnies of being stripped of their power that they’ll continue to sit on vital legislation until finding themselves tarred, feathered and run out of D.C. along with their brainless leader, trump, whom we’ll finally see dragging his cronies, who have stuck to their guns, down for the count while this megalomaniac remains so busy tweeting lies that his mad hatters will attribute his loss of the presidency, come Election Day in November, as having been due to fraudulent voting booths or some other tomfoolery that is sure to stimulate red hatters on the hunt to disparage every minority group, which proved vulnerable, during trump’s administration, to verbal attack, no astute questions asked—no intelligent answers given.
And now, as my mind wanders, here and there, until my re-chemo’d brain feels another cat nap, coming on, here’s yet another consequence resultant of fear of the corona virus running rampant through our streets: Yesterday, Will and I felt a mutual sense of curiosity arising upon finding the empty lobby and corridors of hospital and clinic resembling neighboring ghost towns. Upon asking a staff member—Why? We were told that in preparation for pandemic contagion to spike, only critical care patients are being seen. As many chemo chairs seen in cubicles were empty, I asked why, again. Patients, at different stages of treatment, are cancelling appointments so as to stay home. My gosh. We’ve set our sights on an illness that scares some more than cancer! Who’d have ever thought ...
The day before yesterday, Will drove to Costco on senior day (Tues/Thurs) arriving at 7:20 am, 40 minutes before the 65’n up club was granted early admittance into the warehouse by a police escort. After parking his car, Will’s eye, following the line up of seniors, found himself moseying round the corner of the main entrance only to feel flabbergasted to see the line number at least 300 people, monitored by employees to stand 6 feet apart. Once the doors opened at 8am, as planned, the line began to move while the aforementioned policeman, standing guard at the entrance, counted a finite number, who were allowed in to shop, primarily for paper goods with, as was true of Will, TP topping their lists, and not until an elder, who’d completed his/her purchases, pushed a cart filled with supplies back toward the parking lot, was the next in line let in.
Upon watching this line of 300 move forward as slow as molasses, Will chose not wait, believing himself too late to procure the treasure coveted by this portion of our nation’s population whose conversations revolve around bathroom issues a bit more often with each birthday, which seems to roll around twice each year so quickly do the numbers add up, and with that deeper truth standing in line, 300 deep, beginning at 6am, do we come to see why folks of a certain age feel need to stock pile mega rolls of TP as well hand sanitizer, which is put to good use each time TP, having been unrolled, has been flushed away once the aged, who also stock pile Depends, arise from the porcelain god with need to squirt sanitizer into an upturned palm while flashing the bathroom mirror a smile of success.
As Will believed that his early bird arrival was too late to be counted amongst those fortune shoppers who would have filled their carts and checked out (standing six feet apart) before treasure troves of TP had proved sold out, he made an about face and marched toward his car rather than awaiting his turn to be admitted into Costco’s inner sanctum by a seriously armed guard in case the aged chose to storm the bastille ...
Though I wonder what we’ll choose to use if our supply of TP does not last to meet future demands, the possibility of running out of TP offers me no reason to fret, as of yet, and here’s why that’s true:
Creativity is stimulated in the absence of habit.
And along with that line of thinking—
Yesterday happened to be my grandson, Tony’s tenth birthday.
And in a timely fashion, our whole family shouted out with a festive—Happy Tenth Birthday, Tony!
Tony’s perspective: ‘This is my most important b/d, so far, because it’s my first with two digits!’ and then his declaration provoked a few tears in need of shedding before Tony’s giggles rolled all around the spacious kitchen floor while our entire family (meeting up on the House Party app) sang Happy Birthday in such an utterly unsynchronized fashion that could only be worsened by the level of loudness, which proved ear-piercingly out of tune. And a merry old time was enjoyed by one and all!
If we stop to think about Tony’s original, age appropriate dismay over his birthday party having been postponed, indefinitely, we come to see that this newly double digits birthday boy is too young to conceptualize international problems of pandemic proportions, and in addition to that deeper truth, he’s rightfully missing his friends something fierce. I mean, really, who, at any age, can actually comprehend the gargantuan nature of today’s reality, which highlights our world spiraling, on and on, being that none has a glimmer of a clue as to how long this unnatural twist of fate, which has flipped daily life on a global scope, turtle-like on its back with no end in sight, will continue to remain beyond leadership’s creative control, especially since the leadership of our nation is made up of ostrich+like creatures—tiny heads buried silent yet alive in quicksand, too many having fearfully taken on the role of yes men when the rat leading us into hell uh, make that the red hatted red neck at the helm cannot stop lying through his two front teeth every time he stands before the American people, showing his lack of smarts to be every bit as naked as The Emperor, who strutted about town wearing no clothes to cover his shame, looking every bit as far from presidential as does the manic baboon who can’t possibly still be hogging The Oval Office, solely for his own good. Seriously!
Months before my cancer diagnosis blew my mind, I decided to take a much needed break of who knows what length from watching the news, being that, for the most part, stories presented by anchors served to heighten emotional reactions, which proved less than healthy before melodramatic music deepened my feeling awfully frustrated, infuriated and terribly saddened when word about trump switched tracks to emaciated tots found chained in dark closets, having been beaten and starved half to death for acting out with behaviors that prove age appropriate, most especially when small fry, who have been tortured, repeatedly, know no other life. In short, these true stories, accompanied by dramatic musical displays stresses me out, they could not be my bedtime stories just before I’d lay my head down to sleep with hopes of sweet dreams dancing on my pillow ...
Today, while riding his bike with Ravi (5) my son, Steven, saw two teams of young adults crashing into each other’s sweaty bodies while stealing a soccer ball from each other—so what part of 6feet apart, during pandemic crises, do they not understand as being vital to their health as well as the health of our nation and their loved ones, who may catch this highly contagious, deadly virus from toying adults who do not take this calamity seriously—for example, what if by shopping, lovingly, for their aging, thus vulnerable, high risk parents, these offspring, having incubated the virus, unwittingly pass it forward to the two people the soccer player most wants to protect.
If people would discipline themselves fo social distance for only a month, the pandemic nature of this health disaster may begin to minimize rather than maximize. I heard that this virulent virus does not survive rising temperatures? I mean with false news permeating our connection to trust, who knows what to believe? Certainly not the person who died after hearing trump declare that a chemical in
His fish tank could be a cure ...
Thank goodness birds of a feather are creating ways to enjoy friends and fam by making good use of social media while remaining separated by at least six feet.
Gotta love it when the intuitive portion of our brains feels stimulated by startling events to unlock our rusty imaginations, freeing creativity to arise just as magically as did The Phoenix from its ashes. Tony and Ray plan to meet their friends at a BMX bike park, where social distancing will be parentally enforced. And Ravi’s neighborhood concocted an outdoors treasure hunt, much to the children’s (and parents’) delight.
As we miss our friends, just as is true of Tony, as long as chemo rests me kindly, we plan to invite our friends to visit on our patio, 12 feet apart ... just in case six proves not enough ...
Seriously, why, in the aftermath of horrific events, do some spirits screech toward a thudding stop, as though sticking to a spider web from which creativity is never freed to enjoy the light of day, and thus, based in negative energy, freed, the grass looks greener etc. etc.whereas positively focused spirits fly in flocks of birds of a feather whose bird eye view of bigger pictures adjoin puzzling pieces of life in hopes that untold changes for the better will move forward before anyone can clip their wings, so that rather than conjuring up novel ways of thriving, they find themselves hobbled with those, caught in that web, whose spirits are barely surviving, based in the absence of hindsight, which offers insight to those whose brains, trained to act like rubber balls, bounce away from defensive walls so as to explore aspects of life never experienced before as exemplified by a child, whose terrified experience with family tragedy offered her unbridled imagination sound reason to develop the mentality to think (for herself) out of the box so as to create a subconscious utopia of her home life once her defense system blocked the conscious portion of her brain from feeling scared, half to death, by not share her fears, problems, short comings or vulnerabilities, which remained hidden behind her ready smile with anyone, inclusive of herself until, as an adult, psycho-therapy appealed to her intuitive intelligence once she was parenting children of her own, who, though innocent of evildoers lurking in their midst, who might people their lives, looked up to Mom, whose eagle eye remained wide open to keep each of her young safe from anyone who may have betrayed their trust, harboring thoughts of doing them harm—as she had had no clue of happening to her, and though no conscious memory of having been sexually abused marred my ‘idyllic vision of my childhood, my subconscious kept hold of memories so terrifying as to have been buried alive, festering every bit as raw as had been true when my processor was too inexperienced to understand what was being done, secretly to me, though intuitively I’d felt wronged and in the wrong simultaneously so as to have been a good little girl repressing feelings of guilt concerning being damaged goods, and with time, you and I will come to see how natural instinct ‘speaks’ to all species of animal life at every age once stories unfold about a deeply confounded, sexually abused little girl, who grew to adulthood with no conscious clue of having harbored a mental block too terrifying to remember, over most of my life—even so ... rather than being a survivor, Ive always felt my spirit to be a thriver capable of creative leadership, and in keeping with tiday’s Insight driven train of thought, written by my brain’s power of intuition—
NOT ON MY WATCH WOULD ANY BULLY TRESPASS UPON MY SONS’ SELF RESPECT!
As I’m sure is true of you, my ears are ringing with examples of people, social distancing for safety sake, while their recently reawakened imaginations conjure up creative ways to make sound use of social media to enjoy each other’s company without swapping germs. In fact, ever since this virus scared the bejesus out of everyone, my loved ones, (extended family and friends), both near and far, have been keeping closer tabs on one another than had been true just a few weeks back when every day life had felt far too fast paced and mentally grueling to stop long enough to warmly welcome a new neighbor to the block party, which, thank goodness, our current neighborhood organizes, now and then. As a matter of fact, have you ever had cause to wonder how many neighbors, who live on your block or in your building, today, your memory could point out (much less name) in a casual line up of strangers? Thank goodness, I began a book club in my neighborhood, twenty years back and nursed its fledgling years until our literary club of five or six developed wings of its own as strangers, whose patio homes had been built all in a row dotted the foothills of my mountain, as block after block of retirees grew to be friends. And you can believe me when I say that lots has happened, both happy and sad, in sickness and in health as couples, who grew to care deeply about one another, changed or did not, with the times ...
When my sons were boys, riding bikes everywhere within the invisible boundaries of our original neighborhood, where house number one of three continues to exist, they felt free to play safely outside in the southwestern desert, with my blessing, as had felt natural to their dad and me when we grew up riding bikes to meet friends in the park with no clue that stranger danger might be lurking near the merry go round, slide or swings ... all my sons and I’d felt was the surety that if anything in the warm and sunny, happy go lucky Southwestern desert, where we chose to raise our boys, outdoors, every neighbor on both sides of our block as well as many others throughout our development (based in our having had a private community club house, spacious, sparkling well tended pool, brand new tennis court and horse shoe game, all of which existed kiddy-corner from our first home), created an idyllic setting in which daily life felt safe from big city strife. With wonderful stories concerning community (and one horrific auto accident thrown in for good measure) to pen about raising our boys within this quintessential, little piece of Americana, I wish to release the storyteller, who dwells inside my brain, which has switched tracks ever since cancer undermined the robust nature of my health.
Though our sons began to call, pretty much every day, since my cancer diagnosis created reason for each of us to feel a growing sense of familial alarm, this week, our whole family began to make good use of FaceTime to enjoy each other’s company, individually as well as, all at once. And though that proves a bit chaotic with three rambunctious munchkins chiming in regardless of who’s speaking to whom, we’re all so eager to enjoy this feeling of togetherness that no lessons in manners disrupt the magical wavelength created by love flowing freely through cyberspace connecting four households, separated, not just by miles but by fear of one of us catching and spreading a deadly virus, as well.
So here’s what I’m seeing though I’ve been pretty much quarantined within my current home for months—instead of paying a fortune to run on treadmills in sweaty gyms, my neighbors, living in our sun drenched climate, are walking outside for free, conversing freely with each other about this and that while safely, thus wisely, complying with social distancing, six feet apart.
Families are suddenly seen hiking, biking, playing games as well as cooking and enjoying meals, together, as had been true when my sons, forming a non-stop trio of pure energy, flashing from room to room, heard my voice call out—That’s outside play, and standing soldier-like while holding open our sliding, glass patio door, I’d direct all three boys and their fully energized friends, faces flushed as though spirits, fully lit, emanating from deep within each active body, had been primed to run a marathon, however, being kids in shorts and tees with scraped elbows and knees, rather than adhering to a rigorous training schedule, they’d simply run outdoors to play games which prove every bit as rough and tumble, today, as have been around since naked young lads were directed by grunts, wielding clubs, to stop throwing stones at each other in favor of casting rocks aimed at the heads of eatable wildlife seen scampering away from nearby primitive dwellings, which proved to be caves.
Seriously, if some things concerning human nature never change while others are certain to cave in on the spor then why, in the aftermath of personal tragedy, do some spirits screech to a thudding stop, as though stuck within a spider’s web when the rest of life seems to move forward at a clip? In answer to a question as profound as that, I have experienced sound reason to conclusively believe that positively focused attitudes strengthened with purified injections of love and respect begin to offer evidence of my power of intuitive thought’s expansive capacity to make sound use of hindsight to gain inter-related strings of insight as to why I grew up to see myself as a thriving leader of groups rather than feeling like a crowd-following survivor, beginning in kindergarten (that storyline has already been published in a series of posts), moving forward right up until and inclusive of posting stories, overflowing with insights gained, day by day, until serious illness snared my think tank into a web created by sound reason to fear for my life ...
BTW, have I told you what happened when my mother’s voice called out—Annie—late last week?
Tuesday, March 24, 2020
LAUGHTER—ALWAYS THE BEST MEDICINE WHEN IN NEED OF HEALING
Glad to say that within the cocoon of our daily existence, Will and I enjoyed a sweet’n peaceful day when our wedding anniversary rolled around offering both of us sound reason to feel deeply grateful to have done ‘the work’ that proves necessary if opposites are to experience personal growth spurts toward gaining a healthy respect for each other’s strengths while mustering the humility to identify weaknesses of our own so as to enjoy each other’s company ever more deeply, over time, and thus does reflection offer sound reason to feel ever so thankful for the fact that Will and I chose to spend the last several years deepening our loving sense of mutual respect by way of consciously embracing the humility to identify personal vulnerabilities, long in need of acknowledging, because, along with everyone else on this planet, I cannot tell you how long Will and I will remain closely quarantined within our home.
On the other hand, I can tell you this: The fact that Will and I have grown to be each other’s best friend suggests why he and I see ourselves as two of the luckiest people on Earth, and that feel-good feeling feels especially true during this time of global crises when all too many families, sheltered ‘neath the same roof, seem to have no clue that hard times feel ever more unbearable when disrespect for each other burns through the roof.
I have a friend, self-quarantined with her husband for less than a week, who insists that she’s about to pull out all of her hair, so you might think that I’d FaceTime her and pull off my hat while asking if being as hairless as me will make her next week of quarantine feel ‘better or worse’ than the first. Then, I remembered that my friend had been hairless during her bout with chemo and cancer, so rather than FaceTiming, I chose to shelve the lesson concerning conjoining patience with prioritizing love, good health and humor above all else in favor of texting back soothing words of comfort wrapped within a great big virtual hug.
On the other hand, I can tell you this: The fact that Will and I have grown to be each other’s best friend suggests why he and I see ourselves as two of the luckiest people on Earth, and that feel-good feeling feels especially true during this time of global crises when all too many families, sheltered ‘neath the same roof, seem to have no clue that hard times feel ever more unbearable when disrespect for each other burns through the roof.
I have a friend, self-quarantined with her husband for less than a week, who insists that she’s about to pull out all of her hair, so you might think that I’d FaceTime her and pull off my hat while asking if being as hairless as me will make her next week of quarantine feel ‘better or worse’ than the first. Then, I remembered that my friend had been hairless during her bout with chemo and cancer, so rather than FaceTiming, I chose to shelve the lesson concerning conjoining patience with prioritizing love, good health and humor above all else in favor of texting back soothing words of comfort wrapped within a great big virtual hug.
Having come to identify humor, spontaneity and diplomacy as three of my personal strengths, developed, over time, (and being that Wonder Woman PJ’s in my size were sold out on line), here’s ‘the look’ that I chose to surprise my husband of 54 years with after sunset on March 19th.
Resultant of my costuming (our home always feels a bit on the chilly side to me, a bit too warm to my husband) Will and I enjoyed a good laugh, while cuddling on the living room couch before Netflix with celebratory Dove Bars in hand, all of which goes a long way toward buoying our spirits while the world, spinning off its axis outside of our colorful cocoon, spirals ever more deeply into an abyss too dark and steep to make out whatever this confounding domino effect has in store for all of us, next. If that last thought sounds ominous, let’s chalk it up to the fact that in this case, the unknown looms HUGE! On the other hand, I truly believe in the persistence of balance in all things.
🙋🏻♀️❤️🌈🌻Annie
PS
As to my mom calling out to me from on high, did I publish that post, last week, or will I find it in drafts? Once again, chemo brain coupled with age-related Some-timer’s relieves my processor of worrying over losing my mind. My mind is not lost. It’s just more mixed up, some days than others ... and being that there’s nothin’ newly distressing about that reality, imagine me offering my brain a relaxing ride on my patio swing, which is magical—no kidding.😊
PS
As to my mom calling out to me from on high, did I publish that post, last week, or will I find it in drafts? Once again, chemo brain coupled with age-related Some-timer’s relieves my processor of worrying over losing my mind. My mind is not lost. It’s just more mixed up, some days than others ... and being that there’s nothin’ newly distressing about that reality, imagine me offering my brain a relaxing ride on my patio swing, which is magical—no kidding.😊
Monday, March 23, 2020
IS THE ONE PERCENT ABOUT TO GET STUCK IN A TAR PIT?
... or is the title of today’s post wishful thinking on the part of my imagination?
As chaotic times prove ripe for imaginations to run wild, I’ve decided to place mine on a leash so as to train it to run down streets (channels, wave lengths) that my thought processor has mapped out as being positively focused—quelle surpris—which is in keeping with doing my best to feel cheerful, peaceful, safe, secure, mentally entertained and grateful for many aspects of my life, for example, being well stocked (thanks to Will for foraging for both of us!) with necessities during this pandemic crises, which continues to boggle our minds based in the fact that never before, during our lifetime, has the entire world chosen to shut down, nation by nation.
Hopefully, once this craze of global illness passes (and as with all craziness; it will)—people will get well (and so, hopefully, will I), but even so, much, which had been a given, will not return to ‘normal’, because the world, as we knew it, is bound to change in ways that we can't foresee, today, as innovation, born of necessity, calls upon ingenuity to create untried ways to turn surviving this current crises into thriving, just as was true after great beasts, which had once roamed planet Earth at will, had ceased to exist after stumbling into tar pits as exemplified in L.A..
Seriously, wouldn't it be a dream come true if today's crises somehow effects unforeseen change in that great behemoths, whose heavy footprint roams planet Earth at will, hoarding 99% of the wealth to selfishly feed personal quests for power, went the way of yesteryear's dinosaurs, freeing up 99% of the people who, feeling stuck, sinking in quicksand, have been somehow swindled out of earning their fair share of stock in companies built on the blood, sweat and tears of employees, whose creative ideas, no longer stolen and sold by mega powers, see their families faring better than ever before?
Last night, for some reason, after binging on The Good Place (and lessens in ethics) I chose to watch local news instead of leaving our living room when Will turned it on, and I’m glad to relate that most of what I saw proved uplifting, as Will’s favorite news team aired several stories highlighting good hearted folks helping those less fortunate in deeply generous, highly creative ways, so rather than covering my ears and eyes (not an easy feat for a member of the animal kingdom who makes do with two hands) my spirit felt reason to smile just before the rest of me headed off to bed with sound reason to believe that sweet dreams might be mine.
I don’t know about you, but while penning the upbeat nature of today’s intuitive train of thought, my spirit’s smile felt spurred to ride straight out of my core on a sudden, hope-laden surge of positively focused energy, and on that mindset-expanding note, I’ll bid you adieu till darkness is chased away upon sunrise, tomorrow.
❤️Annie
PS
As happens from time to time, intuition draws my mind back toward a published post in which complex passages prove in need of simplified clarification or insights, which ignite over night, insist upon being plugged in, and as this morning, upon awakening, the latter proved true, you might want to scroll back to review yesterday’s post based in the fact that insight-laden details, submerged within my subconscious, overlong, felt ready to filter into the conscious portion of my processor, this morning, and as these insights have now been plugged into the post published previous to today’s, it comes clear that yesterday’s train of thought was published for public consumption in an incomplete state of being, which, based in my ever deepening awareness of my intuitive powers whispering into my ear, has been repaired ...
Also, the fact that my think tank has been trained to focus upon the positive does not deny the reality of deeper truths concerning the fact that countless people are terrified for sound reasons. Then again, on the other hand, if my well developed sense of empathy is unmuzzled then there’s no telling what kind of domino effect may affect personal strengths, which were not mine until many sessions of EMDR therapy offered me reason to minimize my heartfelt capacity to feel the pain of others as my own ... so if my posts seem unsympathetic, please make note of the fact that having silenced certain aspects of today’s deeper truths from running freely through the conscious portion of my mind, you’ll only see the little of me that my defense system allows me to show concerning my vulnerabilities and strengths. And thus do we uncover yet another reason why my need to relate stories filled with strings of inter related insights feels imperative to the storyteller who, having been paused, is sitting in the wings while serious illness and, now, the corona virus share center stage ...
As chaotic times prove ripe for imaginations to run wild, I’ve decided to place mine on a leash so as to train it to run down streets (channels, wave lengths) that my thought processor has mapped out as being positively focused—quelle surpris—which is in keeping with doing my best to feel cheerful, peaceful, safe, secure, mentally entertained and grateful for many aspects of my life, for example, being well stocked (thanks to Will for foraging for both of us!) with necessities during this pandemic crises, which continues to boggle our minds based in the fact that never before, during our lifetime, has the entire world chosen to shut down, nation by nation.
Hopefully, once this craze of global illness passes (and as with all craziness; it will)—people will get well (and so, hopefully, will I), but even so, much, which had been a given, will not return to ‘normal’, because the world, as we knew it, is bound to change in ways that we can't foresee, today, as innovation, born of necessity, calls upon ingenuity to create untried ways to turn surviving this current crises into thriving, just as was true after great beasts, which had once roamed planet Earth at will, had ceased to exist after stumbling into tar pits as exemplified in L.A..
Seriously, wouldn't it be a dream come true if today's crises somehow effects unforeseen change in that great behemoths, whose heavy footprint roams planet Earth at will, hoarding 99% of the wealth to selfishly feed personal quests for power, went the way of yesteryear's dinosaurs, freeing up 99% of the people who, feeling stuck, sinking in quicksand, have been somehow swindled out of earning their fair share of stock in companies built on the blood, sweat and tears of employees, whose creative ideas, no longer stolen and sold by mega powers, see their families faring better than ever before?
Last night, for some reason, after binging on The Good Place (and lessens in ethics) I chose to watch local news instead of leaving our living room when Will turned it on, and I’m glad to relate that most of what I saw proved uplifting, as Will’s favorite news team aired several stories highlighting good hearted folks helping those less fortunate in deeply generous, highly creative ways, so rather than covering my ears and eyes (not an easy feat for a member of the animal kingdom who makes do with two hands) my spirit felt reason to smile just before the rest of me headed off to bed with sound reason to believe that sweet dreams might be mine.
I don’t know about you, but while penning the upbeat nature of today’s intuitive train of thought, my spirit’s smile felt spurred to ride straight out of my core on a sudden, hope-laden surge of positively focused energy, and on that mindset-expanding note, I’ll bid you adieu till darkness is chased away upon sunrise, tomorrow.
❤️Annie
PS
As happens from time to time, intuition draws my mind back toward a published post in which complex passages prove in need of simplified clarification or insights, which ignite over night, insist upon being plugged in, and as this morning, upon awakening, the latter proved true, you might want to scroll back to review yesterday’s post based in the fact that insight-laden details, submerged within my subconscious, overlong, felt ready to filter into the conscious portion of my processor, this morning, and as these insights have now been plugged into the post published previous to today’s, it comes clear that yesterday’s train of thought was published for public consumption in an incomplete state of being, which, based in my ever deepening awareness of my intuitive powers whispering into my ear, has been repaired ...
Also, the fact that my think tank has been trained to focus upon the positive does not deny the reality of deeper truths concerning the fact that countless people are terrified for sound reasons. Then again, on the other hand, if my well developed sense of empathy is unmuzzled then there’s no telling what kind of domino effect may affect personal strengths, which were not mine until many sessions of EMDR therapy offered me reason to minimize my heartfelt capacity to feel the pain of others as my own ... so if my posts seem unsympathetic, please make note of the fact that having silenced certain aspects of today’s deeper truths from running freely through the conscious portion of my mind, you’ll only see the little of me that my defense system allows me to show concerning my vulnerabilities and strengths. And thus do we uncover yet another reason why my need to relate stories filled with strings of inter related insights feels imperative to the storyteller who, having been paused, is sitting in the wings while serious illness and, now, the corona virus share center stage ...
Sunday, March 22, 2020
LIVING FROM DAY TO DAY HAS NEVER MADE MORE SENSE
I’ve had so much time to write that posts left in drafts are rudely pushing each other aside in their haste to see the light of day. Unfortunately, they’ve backed up, unnumbered, though numbering each one had been my habit until aggressive chemo protocols played messy games with my brain’s highly developed sense of organization. So rather than forcing my patience level to heighten, yet again, I’m choosing to place frustration aside in favor of relaxing my mind during this stressful time by publishing each post left in drafts without any attempt to place them in order. And with the mind soothing nature of that decision clearly stated, here’s the first pre-penned post (all of which have been composed of inter-related trains of thought engineered by my intuition) that my eye landed upon in eeny-meeny-miney-moe fashion, today:
Though I’d witnessed my dad experience deeply stressed financial woes while I was growing up, it’s been my good fortune, thus far, to have never lived from hand to mouth.
In addition to that fact (concerning my past), presently, with so many unknowns spinning round everyone’s head on a global scope, my having cancer has come to feel like a small spot of personal concern that’s not nearly as mind blowing as is true of today’s world-wide health hazard, which within a matter of weeks has destabilized everything that had seemed natural or functional over our entire lifetime, most especially since most of us, alive, today, were babes in arms or not yet born during the catastrophic years of WW I, followed by The Great Depression and WWII, all of which offers us the historical hindsight to have gained insight into detailing how one global disaster led to the next, and if we utilize the historical time line to serve as our guide, we come see the domino effect that caused each of those three catastrophic events to interconnect with the last, based in human nature’s blindness to seek out insight concerning need to focus our sights upon piecing together bigger pictures in real time,
To my good fortune (and for reasons not yet revealed in my blog) Will’s love for me has grown to such depths, over these past twenty five years, as to take extra care to anticipate my every need, which still surprises (and delights) me to no end. And as long as our sons are healthy, working from home and their families are well, so much is still right with our little corner of the world that my spirit feels more reason to sport a grateful smile than not. As long as I stay away from news reports (so many innocent children beaten to death that my heart can’t help but to moan), which rarely have anything uplifting to convey, my sense of peaceful, emotional control remains in a consciously well balanced state of being. And for that do I pay tribute to the creative portion of my imagination, which conjured up The Line of Self Control, which I practiced with due diligence while modeling attitudes, word choices, actions and behaviors for my young sons to observe, absorb and mimic during the eighteen years in which I knew myself to be their most influential guide to experiencing a life well lived, which, to my way of thinking, meant living a life permeated with loving kindness, logical thinking and huge dollops of positively focused humor tossed into the mix. Did I consciously think all of this? No—just some of it. Most of what guided me toward guiding my young was driven by intuition directing the bent of my think tank to absorb a self help library, which my hungry brain gobbled up during the still of each night while my husband, being a guy, dreamed of sports, and my sons did the same along with girls and fast cars, all of which was natural, right? Except for one puzzlement—what mystery, during my childhood, had stimulated my adult intuitive powers to devour everything that I could get my hands on in hopes of developing a friendship with each of my sons that ran so deep that they would grow up feeling 100% free to come to me for help with any inner conflict that disrupted peace of mind ... holy smokescreens, as I write, so many deeply submerged details continue to emerge from within the emotionally repressed portion of my brain that I continue to gain insight, clarifying my need to shine spotlights upon memories buried in my subconscious, which remain convolutedly intertwined within the adult, whom I prove to be, today, and thus, with every post that feels intuitively written do I gain insight into why my mind so often and so easily digresses into what’s past ...
While the world at large continues to spin off its axis around me, today, offering no clue as to what to expect next (as was true when I was a bewildered child of not quite three) Will and I have been graced with many heartfelt reasons to offer each other natural smiles, and one of those reasons is hearing from so many loved ones who, in addition to wishing me to get well, thought to wish us a happy anniversary via phone and social media.
One dear friend, (the son of the couple whose business was swindled out of their trusting hands by a frenemy) is raising his family in Philly. Upon receiving his congrats on our anniversary, I, opening my mind to Memoryland land, again, replied: So—do your pancakes ever sprout chocolate chips? I remember you sauntering into our kitchen on Sunday mornings, a pre-teen, who’d choose to chat with me while we’d both drop a few morsels of semi-sweetness into the rounds of batter sizzling on the grill before you’d make an about face and find your way back into the family room where the rest of the boys, who’d slept over, every weekend, had remained sprawled all over the couches while additional heads relaxing on giant pillows, saw young healthy bodies, which, all together, numbered six or seven, make do with the carpeted floor. If there was one thing, back then, that made sense while all of you were growing up, much of your time spent in our home, it was this: No one wondered how best to prioritize anything in our house. Love topped the list; chocolate chip pancakes for Sunday brunch came in at a close second; third was education. All three were a given. As was financial security. With all of us being naturally healthy, inclusive of my parents and Will’s mother, our serious concerns, were few and far between.
As my last round of chemo has not caused my system to flood with misery, that’s enough about me and mine for today, I’d like to know what’s happening with you and yours during this mind boggling time. Hungry comment box always hoping to be fed ...
Annie
PS
Anyone else having trouble tracking the days of the week?
Though I’d witnessed my dad experience deeply stressed financial woes while I was growing up, it’s been my good fortune, thus far, to have never lived from hand to mouth.
In addition to that fact (concerning my past), presently, with so many unknowns spinning round everyone’s head on a global scope, my having cancer has come to feel like a small spot of personal concern that’s not nearly as mind blowing as is true of today’s world-wide health hazard, which within a matter of weeks has destabilized everything that had seemed natural or functional over our entire lifetime, most especially since most of us, alive, today, were babes in arms or not yet born during the catastrophic years of WW I, followed by The Great Depression and WWII, all of which offers us the historical hindsight to have gained insight into detailing how one global disaster led to the next, and if we utilize the historical time line to serve as our guide, we come see the domino effect that caused each of those three catastrophic events to interconnect with the last, based in human nature’s blindness to seek out insight concerning need to focus our sights upon piecing together bigger pictures in real time,
To my good fortune (and for reasons not yet revealed in my blog) Will’s love for me has grown to such depths, over these past twenty five years, as to take extra care to anticipate my every need, which still surprises (and delights) me to no end. And as long as our sons are healthy, working from home and their families are well, so much is still right with our little corner of the world that my spirit feels more reason to sport a grateful smile than not. As long as I stay away from news reports (so many innocent children beaten to death that my heart can’t help but to moan), which rarely have anything uplifting to convey, my sense of peaceful, emotional control remains in a consciously well balanced state of being. And for that do I pay tribute to the creative portion of my imagination, which conjured up The Line of Self Control, which I practiced with due diligence while modeling attitudes, word choices, actions and behaviors for my young sons to observe, absorb and mimic during the eighteen years in which I knew myself to be their most influential guide to experiencing a life well lived, which, to my way of thinking, meant living a life permeated with loving kindness, logical thinking and huge dollops of positively focused humor tossed into the mix. Did I consciously think all of this? No—just some of it. Most of what guided me toward guiding my young was driven by intuition directing the bent of my think tank to absorb a self help library, which my hungry brain gobbled up during the still of each night while my husband, being a guy, dreamed of sports, and my sons did the same along with girls and fast cars, all of which was natural, right? Except for one puzzlement—what mystery, during my childhood, had stimulated my adult intuitive powers to devour everything that I could get my hands on in hopes of developing a friendship with each of my sons that ran so deep that they would grow up feeling 100% free to come to me for help with any inner conflict that disrupted peace of mind ... holy smokescreens, as I write, so many deeply submerged details continue to emerge from within the emotionally repressed portion of my brain that I continue to gain insight, clarifying my need to shine spotlights upon memories buried in my subconscious, which remain convolutedly intertwined within the adult, whom I prove to be, today, and thus, with every post that feels intuitively written do I gain insight into why my mind so often and so easily digresses into what’s past ...
While the world at large continues to spin off its axis around me, today, offering no clue as to what to expect next (as was true when I was a bewildered child of not quite three) Will and I have been graced with many heartfelt reasons to offer each other natural smiles, and one of those reasons is hearing from so many loved ones who, in addition to wishing me to get well, thought to wish us a happy anniversary via phone and social media.
One dear friend, (the son of the couple whose business was swindled out of their trusting hands by a frenemy) is raising his family in Philly. Upon receiving his congrats on our anniversary, I, opening my mind to Memoryland land, again, replied: So—do your pancakes ever sprout chocolate chips? I remember you sauntering into our kitchen on Sunday mornings, a pre-teen, who’d choose to chat with me while we’d both drop a few morsels of semi-sweetness into the rounds of batter sizzling on the grill before you’d make an about face and find your way back into the family room where the rest of the boys, who’d slept over, every weekend, had remained sprawled all over the couches while additional heads relaxing on giant pillows, saw young healthy bodies, which, all together, numbered six or seven, make do with the carpeted floor. If there was one thing, back then, that made sense while all of you were growing up, much of your time spent in our home, it was this: No one wondered how best to prioritize anything in our house. Love topped the list; chocolate chip pancakes for Sunday brunch came in at a close second; third was education. All three were a given. As was financial security. With all of us being naturally healthy, inclusive of my parents and Will’s mother, our serious concerns, were few and far between.
As my last round of chemo has not caused my system to flood with misery, that’s enough about me and mine for today, I’d like to know what’s happening with you and yours during this mind boggling time. Hungry comment box always hoping to be fed ...
Annie
PS
Anyone else having trouble tracking the days of the week?
Thursday, March 19, 2020
INTERNATIONAL CATASTROPHE? WAIT AND SEE ...
Here I am, sitting in the chemo chair, immediately after being unhooked from tubes, which, having been connected into my port, had conveyed meds paced at a slow drip, over a number of hours, directly into my blood stream. And as you can see from this image of my natural smile, all went well.
As this photo was taken several days ago, it does my spirit good to know that despite the fact that everything, which had sustained our sense of financial security has been closed down on a global scope, causing daily life to change, unimaginably, you and I are still choosing to meet and greet one another with warm virtual hugs while our appreciation of enjoying yet another sunny desert day encourages us to take a healthy, virtually imaginative stroll through the duck park—I remembered the bread—six feet apart, where, while exercising body and brain, we’ll converse about whatever pops into our minds and out of our mouths ... and knowing me to be so loquacious as to rarely be at a loss for words, thank you for suggesting I start ...
First off, let’s wish a happy 54th anniversary to Will and me! Will just made a delicious scramble of eggs, cheese and tomato as we celebrated, together, at brunch, overlooking our patio’s royal blue tiled spa, which backs up to ‘my’ mountain, and if you imagine your mind’s eye climbing my mountain straight up toward its peak, which penetrates the sun streaked, azure sky that floats high above our one story home then next, you can imagine catching a clear view of the expansive nature of the valley in which Will and I chose to settle down, nearly half a century ago, where our trio of active sons were raised within the first two houses of three, the first of which had been occupied for just a year before it’s original owners, having been transferred out of state, sold it to us, and within less time than two blinks of an eye, Will and I, with mutual delight, transformed their house into our very first home, which our family of four had thoroughly enjoyed until we celebrated David’s birth at which time our guest room (into which we’d eagerly welcomed a slew of winter guests escaping the ice blown Midwest, more often than you might have thunk) turned into youngest son’s nursery, because having grown up, first sharing bedroom space with my grandma, followed by doing the same with my younger sister, I’d felt that our offspring would enjoy countless benefits from the privacy that a room of one’s own would accord all three, so that left us feeling need of expanding home base to include five specious bedrooms complimented by four full baths, thus accommodating that ‘needs’ of immediate family as well as extended family and friends, who’d been adopted into our family so naturally as to have felt utterly at home within all three of our newly constructed, quite spacious abodes, each of which had suited our current lifestyle, which had continued to change for the better as naturally as Will had advanced from honor (pre-Med) student to Med. Student, to well trained doc to chief resident to well respected, successful, board certified surgeon.
And now, having caught myself before slipping any further into this stroll down memory lane , let’s leap over ground lost so as to get back to the fact that at the age of 77, Will had never before cooked so much as anything, not even boiling water, until this week, when something about my being seriously ill and our being housebound must have stimulated some unexplored aspect of his creativity to awaken, because, setting thoughts about beginner’s luck aside, so far, he’s proving to be a natural in ‘his’ kitchen with no coaching at all from yours truly. As for me, I’m all for this change in which my kitchen is now his, so all I have to say is hip hip hooray! Kudos to the new chef to whom I’ve happily passed the baton ...
If it’s our 54th, today then it must be our niece’s 32nd, as she and her husband married on our 22nd anniversary, at which time, Beth (who had been my flower girl), and Steve (Beth’s beloved) had honored all five members of our immediate family by asking us to walk down the aisle at their wedding—David, being eleven, held the arm of the gramma, whom he’d shared with his brothers and cousin, Beth. During the dinner, bride and groom invited aunt and uncle to join them in the middle of the expansive, color lit dance floor, where, much to our surprise, an anniversary cake was rolled out, 22 candles and one for good luck all aglow, and when the band struck up with the anniversary waltz, to which Will and I danced, our three sons arose, formed a circle around their parents, and sang the anniversary lyrics to us as Will and I, feeling utterly enchanted, continued to waltz within this circle of love, which was attentively watched by wedding guests, numbering 200. Ahhh! And that delightful, deeply heartfelt memory arises each year when I wish Beth and Steve yet another, very happy anniversary! (Beth is our niece, who is recovering from last week’s kidney cancer surgery. And with that detail, placed clearly on the table, reality replaces but doth not pop reminiscent bubbles, containing wondrous memories, which alight at least once annually from within my mind
So—Day before yesterday, cabinet cleaning stalled. Didn’t feel like getting back to it till late yesterday afternoon when I chose to clean out—not a whole cabinet—just another shelf. Man! I can’t believe how much stuff each of those shelves has stacked away, over this past quarter century! Makes me wonder how much unnecessary stuff in need of reorganization into three piles (keep, toss, donate) remains firmly packed into my memory, over the past three-quarters of a century, which, likened to a lightening strike, struck only to speed by in the blink of an eye.
Yesterday, while I was sitting cross legging on wall to wall, bathroom carpet for short bursts of time—feeling short of breath due to chemo compromising healthy heart function—pulling stuff forward from the back of said shelf, a wide assortment of items, many of which are hair toys that have been out of sight, for many years, kept coming out of hiding like an endless stream of circus clowns running out of a tiny car under which no one can see a trap door leading straight through the floor!
Gosh, these hair toys saw magical memories of festive occasions rebloom, right before my now dancing eyes. Weddings of cousins and friends. Bar and bat mitzvot of children of friends. Weddings of those children, followed, now by Bar and bat mitzvot of children born to the children of our friends, and thus doth traditional festivities filter through family life no matter the fact that personal pleasure and personal strife mix it up as is true of every person’s life. So why are we so shocked to see pestilence on a global scope creating world wide pandemonium, right now? Because none who are living through this cataclysmic panic, today, has ever experienced cataclysmic panic that had shattered all sense of personal and professional security throughout the world except for those so old as to have experienced the Great Depression of 1929 which fell between World War I and II. Hmmm, so where is this intuitive train of thought leading my intelligence, today? As of yet, I have no clue. Yesterday, a dear friend, who I knew in high school and grew to love in college, is a therapist, who described our current situation to her clients as a ride through a dark tunnel, which so far has showed not a glimmer of light at the end to offer us so much as a reassuring hint as to where these confounding changes may see each of us end up.
And my take is that as some have gained more insight concerning detailing bigger pictures than is true of others, whose inner strengths lean in a different direction, we’d each do best by choosing to take this ride through dark times conjoining our host of strengths, together ...
As of yesterday, one of my dearest friends of forty years, who is scheduled for a non elective surgery, next week (to tweak a new problem, associated with her breast cancer surgery of 30 years ago), was still working at her office, interviewing prospective clients, while hoping not to get sick so as not to postpone her upcoming surgery. Seems like my friend’s brain has been experiencing inner conflict, which, interfering with clarity concerning prioritizing business over health, is likely to work against her best interests, over the long run. We’re talking myopathy running interference with grasping bigger pictures.
My friend’s husband, who works in sales for a nationally based, fresh fish company, just learned that his employer has closed his business, indefinitely, and as the same is true of restaurants, serviced by the sales force that provides fresh fish, daily, my friend’s husband is stressing out, because ‘business is so bad’. Myopathy and panic go hand in hand.
Yet another friendship that I’ve treasured since college exists long distance, and many of our recent texts, which have gone back and forth, consider inner need to relax as my friend and I contemplate attitudes concerning mindsets which, time and again, prove in need of healthy changes, most especially, now, in the midst of surreal change that’s still too huge for anyone to understand everything that’s spiraling beyond anyone’s control. In short, while the world as we know it is spinning off its axis, long-distance texting conversations with this particular friend remain based primarily in logic and common sense.
As that’s not true, right now, of my exchanging texts with the couple, previously mentioned, who live just down the street, I implore them to do whatever it takes to stay physically well while quietly hoping to hear that their combined, limbic reaction to world wide panic is beginning to calm down at which time, as both reconnect with their lost sense of logic, we four will be able to converse on the same wave length, again.
And now, having rested while penning this post after feeling short of breath from emptying that under counter cabinet shelf followed by reassembling that mound of stuff into three separate piles, I’m about to tackle another shelf, because though I have no trouble categorizing everything into three groups (keep, donate, toss) I cannot yet see how best to reorganize the stuff I plan to keep in the best possible, orderly manner.—and now, in the thick of it, I can see why it’s no wonder that diving into this job had never been seriously considered before we were housebound! Intuition must have cautioned my processor to believe that this cabinet cleaning task would mimic today’s underlying sense of global need to rid the world of over-grown, obsolete disorder as everything we knew or believed to be be true about the world in which we live continues to shut down—seeing us staying home, where people of all ages have no choice other than to play the game of CATASTROPHE?WAIT AND SEE, simultaneously .... Hmmmm ... your calm, patient, observant friend, Annie
Wednesday, March 18, 2020
GOOD NEIGHBORS NEED NO FENCES (or $5,000,000,000 INEFFECTIVE WALLS)
You know how it feels when you purchase a car of a certain color from a manufacturer, only to see the same model and color, wherever you go from here to there and back? Though self quarantined, based in my having cancer, for many weeks, I’m getting to feel that way about running into various forms of this disease. Either the phone rings or bad news travels fast via social media.
As a matter of fact, today’s post actually composed itself while my think tank was answering an email received from a young friend, concerning the serious nature of her mother’s recent cancer diagnosis, and all she ‘said’ to stimulate my concern for her mother’s health was—you and my mom are warriors—warriors being a buzz word for those battling serious illness, right?
So by making good use of cut and paste, here is the train of thought that occupied my processor throughout the day, once my young friend’s reply confirmed my concern about her mother’s recent decline in health—
As a matter of fact, today’s post actually composed itself while my think tank was answering an email received from a young friend, concerning the serious nature of her mother’s recent cancer diagnosis, and all she ‘said’ to stimulate my concern for her mother’s health was—you and my mom are warriors—warriors being a buzz word for those battling serious illness, right?
So by making good use of cut and paste, here is the train of thought that occupied my processor throughout the day, once my young friend’s reply confirmed my concern about her mother’s recent decline in health—
I’m truly sad to know that your mom is seriously ill. Thoughts about living across the cul du sac from your family warm my heart to this very day though we’ve not been neighbors for more than twenty-five years.
I fell in love with your beautiful, little face the first time I ever saw you cradled, as lovingly as is true of new born babes, in your mother’s arms. And now, here you are, my sweet friend, the loving mother of two children, whose beauty equals yours.
(As an aside from my email reply—Will and I built and moved into our present home while my sweet young friend was a child, and as our current abode is close by to the home in which we raised our sons, it became my habit, from time to time, to drop small surprises—addressed to my sweet young friend—at our former neighbor’s front door, while on my way home from here or there. And I don’t know whose heart was tickled more, over the next several years, my young friend, her parents or me. Reflection suggests that, over my lifetime, my heart has developed deeply creative ways to remain insightfully connected with people of all ages, whom I love.)
And with that pleasantry clearly stated, let’s return to my reply to my former neighbor’s email in which my personal battle with cancer was condensed:
And so, my dear friends, I hope each of you feels my love as well as Will’s, hugging all four of you and your precious families close to our hearts, and please remember that any updates concerning Audrey’s recovery will be deeply appreciated at our our end of our loving and thus, lasting connection, which continues to wish for eventual good health for everyone in your family,
I fell in love with your beautiful, little face the first time I ever saw you cradled, as lovingly as is true of new born babes, in your mother’s arms. And now, here you are, my sweet friend, the loving mother of two children, whose beauty equals yours.
(As an aside from my email reply—Will and I built and moved into our present home while my sweet young friend was a child, and as our current abode is close by to the home in which we raised our sons, it became my habit, from time to time, to drop small surprises—addressed to my sweet young friend—at our former neighbor’s front door, while on my way home from here or there. And I don’t know whose heart was tickled more, over the next several years, my young friend, her parents or me. Reflection suggests that, over my lifetime, my heart has developed deeply creative ways to remain insightfully connected with people of all ages, whom I love.)
And with that pleasantry clearly stated, let’s return to my reply to my former neighbor’s email in which my personal battle with cancer was condensed:
As to my cancer diagnosis, I have a very rare sarcoma, a tumor that’s almost never found in the lung, and though I saw multiple doctors, over this past year, expressing pain within the right side of my chest, no one suggested an X-ray, because I had no fever, chest congestion or cough—and since my internist was on extended maternity leave, it was not until my annual physical had been scheduled (which always includes a chest X-ray) upon her return, last September, that I was diagnosed with pneumonia until that misdiagnosis (somehow, reconfirmed by three radiologists, over the next several weeks), changed to my being treated for Valley Fever until our sons suggested my seeing a pulmonologist who, with one knowledgeable glance at my X-ray, sent me for a CT scan ASAP, after which the advanced state of this sarcoma was clearly identified and correctly diagnosed. Being that last year’s annual X-ray showed a pair of healthy lungs, the painful invasion of this tumor had plenty of time to grow to be 7cm.
As clearly shown in echocardiograms scheduled every six weeks, the tumor is encroaching upon the lining of my heart, which is why an aggressive protocol of chemo treatments, beginning last November, saw me hospitalized several times for lengthy stays as my heart and production of blood were compromised by side effects, necessitating several transfusions and IV antibiotics to combat infections contracted, simultaneously. And, since my immune system was understandably ineffective, scary situations, which I’ll refrain from describing, took place during those hospitalizations.
Over the long run, I’ll need heart/lung surgery in Houston as that’s where a team of innovative surgeons have designed and experienced success with a surgical procedure, which, thank goodness, they see me as a candidate to undergo, once my oncologist, their colleague, a sarcoma specialist at MD Anderson, believes me ready to pause chemo treatments, which will resume, after this complex surgery, believed to be curative, is past in hopes of insuring that the aggressive nature of this sarcoma does not return. I mean why go through all of this treatment, which demands resilience and courage unless my being seen as a candidate suggests that these brilliant doctors believe they can save my life?
I’ve traveled to Houston, every six weeks, until world wide concern over the corona virus changed everything on a global scope. So now, I expect future scans will be ordered in Houston to be administered, here, at Mayo (where all of my chemo treatments have taken place ).
The results of up coming scans will be forwarded to the sarcoma specialist in Houston, who has been in charge of changing medical protocols, long distance, each time chemo proved so threatening to the present state of my health as to have seen Mayo’s medical specialists gathering round my bed, discussing what to do, next, while thankfully, I was more unconscious than not.
Today, the depths of my hope to be surgically cured of this sarcoma within coming months, continues to strengthen my resolve to do whatever proves necessary to combat the toxicity of the tumor, itself.
Today, the depths of my hope to be surgically cured of this sarcoma within coming months, continues to strengthen my resolve to do whatever proves necessary to combat the toxicity of the tumor, itself.
Thank goodness, the miracles of modern medicine and the fact that I feel surrounded by love’s healing powers truly inspire my personal connection to courage to infuse my spirit with smiles, day after day, as each smile acknowledges my good fortune to train my brain to place fear at bay in favor of dwelling on my good fortune to be so well cared for by Will’s love, and each time I choose to sway, back and forth, on our patio swing so as to enjoy the beauties of Mother Nature’s desert spring, or while sitting myself on the floor in my master bathroom, emptying cabinets, over stuffed for years with this and that, which I no longer use and have decided to donate to The Sojourner Women’s Shelter, my free time serves a worthwhile purpose that encourages my spirit’s smile to focus upon my think tank’s expansive capacity to set fear aside in favor of remaining proactively engaged with helping others in this small but heartfelt manner without leaving the safe haven of my home—and thus do I, following my family’s loving prescription, do nothing to place my seriously compromised health at further risk.
As to Will’s being almost as quarantined as proves 100% true of me, whenever he ventures out to replenish supplies, his disposable face mask and gloves are clearly seen.
As to Will’s being almost as quarantined as proves 100% true of me, whenever he ventures out to replenish supplies, his disposable face mask and gloves are clearly seen.
Currently, as is likely true for Audrey, my compromised immune system and I will continue to self quarantine at home, indefinitely, where all of the love that my heart feels for Will as his loving attentiveness proves boundless, includes the attentiveness of our three sons, and combined with our circle of family and friends, both near and far, I continue to focus my attitude toward embracing sound reasons to continue to feel ever so grateful, most especially as the corona virus has quarantined most everyone I know, which suggests why my heart, missing the presence of so many loved ones, depends upon my spirit’s smile remaining deeply rooted within inner strengths, developed during challenging times, over my lifetime, as we all make our way through life’s most recent crises, which necessitates our working together for the common good alongside of today’s medically trained specialists, whose deeply intelligent brains sustain the hopes of so many by providing their patients with creatively innovative life saving miracle cures, which were unknown, less than two decades ago.
And so, my dear friends, I hope each of you feels my love as well as Will’s, hugging all four of you and your precious families close to our hearts, and please remember that any updates concerning Audrey’s recovery will be deeply appreciated at our our end of our loving and thus, lasting connection, which continues to wish for eventual good health for everyone in your family,
😷🙋🏻♀️❤️🌈🌻Annie
Sent from my iPad
Tuesday, March 17, 2020
HOW OFTEN DOES FEAR OF CHANGE, WHICH WE DO NOT YET UNDERSTAND, KEEP YOUR WHEELS SPINNING, STUCK IN A RUT?
As our global need to recreate a sense of balance (in all things) spells itself out, over coming weeks, I believe the pandemic nature of this utterly unexpected worldwide scare is bound to impose changes for the better within our nation, as, suddenly, we’ve all had to confront reason to reconsider communal need to review the unbalanced persistence of our society’s over-worked mentality.
Let’s consider one of my closest friends, whose daily texts clearly express the depths of her stress, based in her self designed work schedule: Yesterday, I sent this reply to her most recent plea for help concerning her unmet need to unwind and relax: Just as you built up your private practice, years ago, to lovingly relieve some of your husband’s deeply stressed, financial pressures, now, it’s past time for you to release your hold on that baton at least enough to enjoy good health with your husband, who, having retired, has had time, over these past several years, to cultivate his newly relaxed state of mind. Just as with cultivating your garden from season to season, cultivating your relaxed state of mind will happen in step by step fashion, over time, if you offer yourself the same advice as you would to a client whose anxiety over any change, inclusive of positive change, proves in need of self-loving attitude adjustment.
Today, as with every day since my cancer diagnosis proved positive, my friend and I have exchanged morning and evening texts, wishing each other well, and, verbatim, here is what my response to my precious friend clarified for me:
Good morning S😊
Having been completely isolated for a while from all of the craziness that’s taking place beyond my front door, everything I hear from family and friends feels too surreal for my brain to absorb with anything resembling clarity, and the fact that, generally speaking, the absorption of ‘news’ proves anything but reassuring, I stopped reading the paper and watching news programs months ago in hopes of minimizing my anxiety from rising, once I became aware of my natural reaction upon processing bad news of any kind after the invasion of cancer had stimulated my body’s defense system to exist within a state of heightened alert.
So though I’ve successfully focused upon training my awareness to switch thoughts away from anything that exacerbates fear of any situation that proves beyond my control, now that the corona virus, which is affecting change in all of our lives, has been added into the mix, my fear for the good health of everyone I love tests my brain’s ability to maintain a balanced attitude so as to provide my processor with positive thoughts focusing upon regaining peace of mind with immediacy.
Upon second thought, reflection suggests that I’ve put my defense system to work at learning a new skill.
Perhaps, on a positive note, that’s why I’ve been choosing to sit on the floor, cleaning out over stuffed bathroom cabinets, which somehow feels necessary, being that tackling this chore, which has been put off for years, offers my think tank something to achieve that’s within my control to reorganize and improve on my own. You see, as long as I feel well enough to fill my time with sitting on the floor, emptying under counter cabinets, which have been over stuffed with items that women at the shelter of my choice would truly feel glad to receive, I’m feeling personally productive in a deeply heartfelt way, which keeps the reality of my naturally repressed personal fears in perspective with the ills of the world which are not mine to fear or combat while I’m contributing to the betterment of others in my own small ways. And as one thing leads to another, today’s train of thought makes me wonder what else will be cleaned out and donated after under counter cabinets are once again orderly and functional, again ...
My text when in to say that since my friend’s cabinets had been reorganized by a professional (a birthday gift from her son) not too long ago and since her mind continues to work in tandem with motivating clients in need of re-organizing disorder that’s clogged their minds with fears, left unexamined, perhaps ever since childhood, her thought to release anxious energy, today, by taking a long walk in the cool, crisp fresh air of the Midwest seems both personally productive and wisely healthy to me.
And now, having expressed my take within my reply to her most recent text, I’ve come to see my need to examine the darkly cloudy, fearsome state of my mind, thus clarifing my innermost need to expose repressed fears to the conscious portion of my mind, whicc, having remained focused upon reassuring my friend, freed my clogged sense of clarity to move through the healthy process of rebalancing itself based in the fact that my innermost thoughts have been busily airing themselves so as to be clearly re-evaluated by my smarts before sending today’s string of insights on the wings of love first to my friend and now, to you, too!
Whew! I feel so much better since my spirit’s smile, feeling freed of repressed fear, has begun to inspire my think tank to tackle another cabinet in need of cleaning out followed by reorganizing that while I choose to keep in the same rebalanced manner as writing this post has cleaned out and reorganized my present state of mind. And having aired my own clogged fears upon sending my thoughts into cyberspace, I hope you can feel my love walking beside you, caring about your welfare, wherever in this wide wide world you call home, because though you and I may never be fated to meet, face to face, we can each participate in some small and yet generous way to heal the wounded spirits of countless folk whose homes have been destroyed by natural forces and even worse, whose hearts have faced devastation, cast uncaringly, by those whose thought processors remain focused solely upon empowering personal greed to splinter our nation’s dire need to elect governing officials, whose heartfelt intent has long been focused upon reconstructing every inner strength that our current administration and paralyzed Senate have undermined by concentrating mentally unstable mindsets solely upon oneself and one’s cronies, who, inclusive of the 1%, are known to hoard the wealth of our nation, creating sound reason for widespread fury to run rampant through our streets—hopefully, straight toward voting booths, where, this coming November, we can each empower ourselves to disenfranchise megalomaniacs who, aping trump, demonstrate how little they care for the common good ... and
Once again, we see my fearful attitude, having undergone a self-motivated, rebalanced state of mind, expanding my thought processor’s conscious capacity to switch tracks from highly personal situations, beyond my control, toward seriously reconsidering our communal need to right the sorry wrongs perpetrated upon our great nation’s downtrodden families as the momentous election of the next president of the USA draws near.
Bottom line—the most important decision that the majority of deep thinking American adults has ever made, concerning communal need to expand your political mindset and mine, is upon us, right now, as your right to vote and mine lead the young of our nation toward (or farther away from) change for the better, which has been stalled, perhaps ever since the mindset of our nation as a whole was deeply traumatized during the paralyzing aftermath of President Kennedy’s televised, violent murder, which proved to be the first of many, thus initiating a negatively focused, widespread domino effect, which has continued to spiral way beyond our nation’s ability to rebalance our adult population’s sense of internal logic-based, emotionally mature, self control—until now, when hopefully, this up coming election inspires our processors, more than ever before, to open our eyes to personal necessity to identify repressed fears, which blind us to need to examine the ways that subconscious anxiety, triggered to spike by current events, releases yesteryear’s unexamined vulnerabilities to debilitate our personal strengths, which we’ve each worked so hard to develop ...
So, if you’re as furious, deep within, as is true of me then please choose to run as fast as you can to vote for candidates, whose promise of change for the better is not undermined by feeding endless lies to selfish attitudes, which persist within think tanks that squeeze their smarts under red hats that continue to prove more narrow minded than my rebalanced think tank can believe. If trump’s presidency has clarified one thought for me, it’s the fact that the minds of many millions of American voters remain clogged with many more darkly clouded emotional disturbances than is true of my think tank, which benefits from receiving frequent, self motivated, well oiled tune ups, and as today’s tune up is under my belt, off I go to make sound use of my brain and my time to ready small items to send to spirits, which are highly likely in need of cheering up ...
😷🌈🌻🦚Annie
Let’s consider one of my closest friends, whose daily texts clearly express the depths of her stress, based in her self designed work schedule: Yesterday, I sent this reply to her most recent plea for help concerning her unmet need to unwind and relax: Just as you built up your private practice, years ago, to lovingly relieve some of your husband’s deeply stressed, financial pressures, now, it’s past time for you to release your hold on that baton at least enough to enjoy good health with your husband, who, having retired, has had time, over these past several years, to cultivate his newly relaxed state of mind. Just as with cultivating your garden from season to season, cultivating your relaxed state of mind will happen in step by step fashion, over time, if you offer yourself the same advice as you would to a client whose anxiety over any change, inclusive of positive change, proves in need of self-loving attitude adjustment.
Today, as with every day since my cancer diagnosis proved positive, my friend and I have exchanged morning and evening texts, wishing each other well, and, verbatim, here is what my response to my precious friend clarified for me:
Good morning S😊
Having been completely isolated for a while from all of the craziness that’s taking place beyond my front door, everything I hear from family and friends feels too surreal for my brain to absorb with anything resembling clarity, and the fact that, generally speaking, the absorption of ‘news’ proves anything but reassuring, I stopped reading the paper and watching news programs months ago in hopes of minimizing my anxiety from rising, once I became aware of my natural reaction upon processing bad news of any kind after the invasion of cancer had stimulated my body’s defense system to exist within a state of heightened alert.
So though I’ve successfully focused upon training my awareness to switch thoughts away from anything that exacerbates fear of any situation that proves beyond my control, now that the corona virus, which is affecting change in all of our lives, has been added into the mix, my fear for the good health of everyone I love tests my brain’s ability to maintain a balanced attitude so as to provide my processor with positive thoughts focusing upon regaining peace of mind with immediacy.
Upon second thought, reflection suggests that I’ve put my defense system to work at learning a new skill.
Perhaps, on a positive note, that’s why I’ve been choosing to sit on the floor, cleaning out over stuffed bathroom cabinets, which somehow feels necessary, being that tackling this chore, which has been put off for years, offers my think tank something to achieve that’s within my control to reorganize and improve on my own. You see, as long as I feel well enough to fill my time with sitting on the floor, emptying under counter cabinets, which have been over stuffed with items that women at the shelter of my choice would truly feel glad to receive, I’m feeling personally productive in a deeply heartfelt way, which keeps the reality of my naturally repressed personal fears in perspective with the ills of the world which are not mine to fear or combat while I’m contributing to the betterment of others in my own small ways. And as one thing leads to another, today’s train of thought makes me wonder what else will be cleaned out and donated after under counter cabinets are once again orderly and functional, again ...
My text when in to say that since my friend’s cabinets had been reorganized by a professional (a birthday gift from her son) not too long ago and since her mind continues to work in tandem with motivating clients in need of re-organizing disorder that’s clogged their minds with fears, left unexamined, perhaps ever since childhood, her thought to release anxious energy, today, by taking a long walk in the cool, crisp fresh air of the Midwest seems both personally productive and wisely healthy to me.
And now, having expressed my take within my reply to her most recent text, I’ve come to see my need to examine the darkly cloudy, fearsome state of my mind, thus clarifing my innermost need to expose repressed fears to the conscious portion of my mind, whicc, having remained focused upon reassuring my friend, freed my clogged sense of clarity to move through the healthy process of rebalancing itself based in the fact that my innermost thoughts have been busily airing themselves so as to be clearly re-evaluated by my smarts before sending today’s string of insights on the wings of love first to my friend and now, to you, too!
Whew! I feel so much better since my spirit’s smile, feeling freed of repressed fear, has begun to inspire my think tank to tackle another cabinet in need of cleaning out followed by reorganizing that while I choose to keep in the same rebalanced manner as writing this post has cleaned out and reorganized my present state of mind. And having aired my own clogged fears upon sending my thoughts into cyberspace, I hope you can feel my love walking beside you, caring about your welfare, wherever in this wide wide world you call home, because though you and I may never be fated to meet, face to face, we can each participate in some small and yet generous way to heal the wounded spirits of countless folk whose homes have been destroyed by natural forces and even worse, whose hearts have faced devastation, cast uncaringly, by those whose thought processors remain focused solely upon empowering personal greed to splinter our nation’s dire need to elect governing officials, whose heartfelt intent has long been focused upon reconstructing every inner strength that our current administration and paralyzed Senate have undermined by concentrating mentally unstable mindsets solely upon oneself and one’s cronies, who, inclusive of the 1%, are known to hoard the wealth of our nation, creating sound reason for widespread fury to run rampant through our streets—hopefully, straight toward voting booths, where, this coming November, we can each empower ourselves to disenfranchise megalomaniacs who, aping trump, demonstrate how little they care for the common good ... and
Once again, we see my fearful attitude, having undergone a self-motivated, rebalanced state of mind, expanding my thought processor’s conscious capacity to switch tracks from highly personal situations, beyond my control, toward seriously reconsidering our communal need to right the sorry wrongs perpetrated upon our great nation’s downtrodden families as the momentous election of the next president of the USA draws near.
Bottom line—the most important decision that the majority of deep thinking American adults has ever made, concerning communal need to expand your political mindset and mine, is upon us, right now, as your right to vote and mine lead the young of our nation toward (or farther away from) change for the better, which has been stalled, perhaps ever since the mindset of our nation as a whole was deeply traumatized during the paralyzing aftermath of President Kennedy’s televised, violent murder, which proved to be the first of many, thus initiating a negatively focused, widespread domino effect, which has continued to spiral way beyond our nation’s ability to rebalance our adult population’s sense of internal logic-based, emotionally mature, self control—until now, when hopefully, this up coming election inspires our processors, more than ever before, to open our eyes to personal necessity to identify repressed fears, which blind us to need to examine the ways that subconscious anxiety, triggered to spike by current events, releases yesteryear’s unexamined vulnerabilities to debilitate our personal strengths, which we’ve each worked so hard to develop ...
So, if you’re as furious, deep within, as is true of me then please choose to run as fast as you can to vote for candidates, whose promise of change for the better is not undermined by feeding endless lies to selfish attitudes, which persist within think tanks that squeeze their smarts under red hats that continue to prove more narrow minded than my rebalanced think tank can believe. If trump’s presidency has clarified one thought for me, it’s the fact that the minds of many millions of American voters remain clogged with many more darkly clouded emotional disturbances than is true of my think tank, which benefits from receiving frequent, self motivated, well oiled tune ups, and as today’s tune up is under my belt, off I go to make sound use of my brain and my time to ready small items to send to spirits, which are highly likely in need of cheering up ...
😷🌈🌻🦚Annie
Monday, March 16, 2020
POSITIVE THOUGHTS CONCERNING THE EXPANSIVE IMPACT OF THE CORONA VIRUS
In keeping with saving good news for last, The Associated Press receives support for health and science coverage from the Howard Hughes Medical Institute’s Department of Science Education. The AP is solely responsible for all content:
“Italian doctors celebrated one small victory in their battle against the coronavirus after a 38-year-old man was moved out of intensive care for the first time since he tested positive Feb. 21. He is considered to be the first Italian to have contracted the coronavirus — Patient No. 1. But in the rest of northern Italy, the virus’ spread was growing so exponentially that doctors were having to decide who gets priority in care and access to intensive care unit beds. For most people, the new coronavirus causes only mild or moderate symptoms, such as fever and cough, and the vast majority of people recover. For some, especially older adults and people with existing health problems, it can cause more severe illness, including pneumonia. “
It is a very strange, quiet time, indeed. Surreal. Will and I are relieved to know that dear friends from Seattle have decided to remain close by in their winter home for safety sake, and we truly remain eager to receive and enjoy our friend’s delicious, nutritious, homemade meals, which she and her husband leave, ever so lovingly, at our front door until we four can enjoy being together, again.
As to our immediate family, FaceTime offers us ways to enjoy each other’s smiles across the miles.
My next infusion of chemo is scheduled a week from Wednesday. So far, my only side effect with this current cocktail’s recent change in protocol has been feeling short of breath, and it’s likely that past protocols of chemo, which had affected change within my heart’s natural capacity to pump oxygenated blood throughout my body, have not yet been fully released from my system, as of yet. Chemo, and thus, its effect, sticks around for quite some time.
If regaining a lost sense of balance in all things remains a high priority, most especially when discussing state of mind, then, during times that prove confounding a toss the board, common sense suggests switching tracks so as to embrace attitudes infused with positive trains of thought, and as that’s been my habit for many years, we clearly see why I remain hopeful that today’s communal fear, handled with logic and grace, may serve to close long lasting gaps, which had separated people into divisive camps, based in little more than habit.
As our global need to recreate a sense of balance in all things spells itself out, over coming weeks, the pandemic nature of this utterly unexpected worldwide scare is bound to impose changes for the better as, suddenly, we all confront reason to reconsider communal need to review the unbalanced persistence of our nation’s over-worked mentality. Just as with cultivating a garden, cultivating a relaxed state of mind happens in step by step fashion, over time, if you offer yourself the same advice as you would to a friend whose anxiety, over any change, proves in need of self-loving attitude adjustment.🥰🙋🏻♀️
As some are bound to benefit in unforeseen ways from changes based in this current domino effect, which remains too complex to assess with accuracy, in real time, I wonder if those, who have been in need of slowing their pace may be amongst the folk who will find positive change taking place—naturally rather than by conscious choice.🌈🌻
On a personal note, here are several experiences, which were mine, yesterday:
Upon asking my son, Steven for his thoughts about our meeting at the duck pond with bread (and face mask) in hand so as to enjoy spending time with each other and five year old Ravi in an outdoors environment where sunlight is plentiful and healthy, his response, being super cautious, was: Let’s revisit that idea, next week, after you and Dad have been safely quarantined for several more days until we may have gained a clearer understanding of the on-going effects of the corona virus, which remain too complex to comprehend, as of yet. And knowing Steven’s decision to be based in common sense, I complied, feeling utterly gratified to be so well protected and deeply loved.
With lofty ceilings throughout our house, we have master bathroom cabinets, which being way above my head, have remained over stuffed (with who-knew-what) for more than twenty years. These cabinets were emptied, yesterday, when Will decided to perch upon a small step ladder and hand down yesteryear’s out dated supplies to me, who, for the most part, was seen lying on the floor, my head on a pillow, sifting through everything, which had done nothing other than collect dust for two decades. Once master bathroom, under counter cabinets have been tackled, today, useless items will be tossed into an empty Amazon box, as was true, yesterday, while many classic items in good repair, will be boxed and set aside until donated to a woman’s shelter.
Yesterday, Will, who does not cook, chose to create his first omelet, ever! Eggs, cheese, tomatoes. Though butter browned in the pan a bit too quickly, Pan, sprayed beforehand saved the day, and I must say that my husband’s first attempt at unaided cuisine, fluffed with a splash of milk, had been deliciously spiced!
Following lunch, we enjoyed a breath of fresh air on the patio swing ... somehow, with no one coming over, solitude has begun to feel more like isolation ... so while reminding myself to lighten my spirit of this new sense of heaviness, I chose to gaze around at the healthy, technicolored state of vegetative beauty surrounding our home while also taking note of the inherent wisdom concerning the temporary nature of quarantining oneself for safety sake, over the long run, and once bathroom shelves, way above my reach, had been replenished with current goods, which meet Will’s needs and longer reach, Will made good use of his free time by checking up on extended family and friends by phone while I, as has become my habit, did the same by way of text.
Then, following a short spell, devoted to resting his body and mind before our TV, next thing I knew, Will was lighting our BBQ, being that juicy cheeseburgers were on last night’s dinner menu as our main course. And unlike Will’s well done burgers of several weeks ago, last night’s fare was grilled to perfection, which for us suggests somewhere between medium and medium rare. And thus were Will’s smiles and mine all aglow while we’d thoroughly enjoyed a simple hamburger sandwich, which, having been spiced to perfection, was topped with melted cheese and freshly sliced tomato, served lovingly at our kitchen table.
😷🌈🌻Annie
I’ll bet that returning to ‘natural’ social life is going to feel refreshingly uplifting once this pandemic fear of catching disease is behind us!😷😊
It is a very strange, quiet time, indeed. Surreal. Will and I are relieved to know that dear friends from Seattle have decided to remain close by in their winter home for safety sake, and we truly remain eager to receive and enjoy our friend’s delicious, nutritious, homemade meals, which she and her husband leave, ever so lovingly, at our front door until we four can enjoy being together, again.
As to our immediate family, FaceTime offers us ways to enjoy each other’s smiles across the miles.
My next infusion of chemo is scheduled a week from Wednesday. So far, my only side effect with this current cocktail’s recent change in protocol has been feeling short of breath, and it’s likely that past protocols of chemo, which had affected change within my heart’s natural capacity to pump oxygenated blood throughout my body, have not yet been fully released from my system, as of yet. Chemo, and thus, its effect, sticks around for quite some time.
If regaining a lost sense of balance in all things remains a high priority, most especially when discussing state of mind, then, during times that prove confounding a toss the board, common sense suggests switching tracks so as to embrace attitudes infused with positive trains of thought, and as that’s been my habit for many years, we clearly see why I remain hopeful that today’s communal fear, handled with logic and grace, may serve to close long lasting gaps, which had separated people into divisive camps, based in little more than habit.
As our global need to recreate a sense of balance in all things spells itself out, over coming weeks, the pandemic nature of this utterly unexpected worldwide scare is bound to impose changes for the better as, suddenly, we all confront reason to reconsider communal need to review the unbalanced persistence of our nation’s over-worked mentality. Just as with cultivating a garden, cultivating a relaxed state of mind happens in step by step fashion, over time, if you offer yourself the same advice as you would to a friend whose anxiety, over any change, proves in need of self-loving attitude adjustment.🥰🙋🏻♀️
As some are bound to benefit in unforeseen ways from changes based in this current domino effect, which remains too complex to assess with accuracy, in real time, I wonder if those, who have been in need of slowing their pace may be amongst the folk who will find positive change taking place—naturally rather than by conscious choice.🌈🌻
On a personal note, here are several experiences, which were mine, yesterday:
Upon asking my son, Steven for his thoughts about our meeting at the duck pond with bread (and face mask) in hand so as to enjoy spending time with each other and five year old Ravi in an outdoors environment where sunlight is plentiful and healthy, his response, being super cautious, was: Let’s revisit that idea, next week, after you and Dad have been safely quarantined for several more days until we may have gained a clearer understanding of the on-going effects of the corona virus, which remain too complex to comprehend, as of yet. And knowing Steven’s decision to be based in common sense, I complied, feeling utterly gratified to be so well protected and deeply loved.
With lofty ceilings throughout our house, we have master bathroom cabinets, which being way above my head, have remained over stuffed (with who-knew-what) for more than twenty years. These cabinets were emptied, yesterday, when Will decided to perch upon a small step ladder and hand down yesteryear’s out dated supplies to me, who, for the most part, was seen lying on the floor, my head on a pillow, sifting through everything, which had done nothing other than collect dust for two decades. Once master bathroom, under counter cabinets have been tackled, today, useless items will be tossed into an empty Amazon box, as was true, yesterday, while many classic items in good repair, will be boxed and set aside until donated to a woman’s shelter.
Yesterday, Will, who does not cook, chose to create his first omelet, ever! Eggs, cheese, tomatoes. Though butter browned in the pan a bit too quickly, Pan, sprayed beforehand saved the day, and I must say that my husband’s first attempt at unaided cuisine, fluffed with a splash of milk, had been deliciously spiced!
Following lunch, we enjoyed a breath of fresh air on the patio swing ... somehow, with no one coming over, solitude has begun to feel more like isolation ... so while reminding myself to lighten my spirit of this new sense of heaviness, I chose to gaze around at the healthy, technicolored state of vegetative beauty surrounding our home while also taking note of the inherent wisdom concerning the temporary nature of quarantining oneself for safety sake, over the long run, and once bathroom shelves, way above my reach, had been replenished with current goods, which meet Will’s needs and longer reach, Will made good use of his free time by checking up on extended family and friends by phone while I, as has become my habit, did the same by way of text.
Then, following a short spell, devoted to resting his body and mind before our TV, next thing I knew, Will was lighting our BBQ, being that juicy cheeseburgers were on last night’s dinner menu as our main course. And unlike Will’s well done burgers of several weeks ago, last night’s fare was grilled to perfection, which for us suggests somewhere between medium and medium rare. And thus were Will’s smiles and mine all aglow while we’d thoroughly enjoyed a simple hamburger sandwich, which, having been spiced to perfection, was topped with melted cheese and freshly sliced tomato, served lovingly at our kitchen table.
😷🌈🌻Annie
I’ll bet that returning to ‘natural’ social life is going to feel refreshingly uplifting once this pandemic fear of catching disease is behind us!😷😊
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