How tired am I? Even with the shower chair installed, I’ve been too fatigued to bathe, over these past two days. Luckily, several weeks back, I’d ordered moistened bathing cloths, seen on Shark Tank, which offer me an alternative method of freshening up.
Last night, I dreamt my hair was back. Earlier sighting of brows and lashes proved a tease—every wisp of eye enhancing definition, gone, again, with promise from everyone who has undergone chemo that lashes, brows and scalp will surely sprout, good as new. Face so round from steroids that with the absence of hair, everywhere, my smile resembles the happy face emoji. Luckily, this, too, shall pass, and brows, lashes and tresses shall, once again, be mine.
The tone of today’s text suggests my spirit lightening up in readiness for next infusion of chemo, this coming Wednesday. Though days tend toward long, somehow weeks fly swiftly by ...
Today, I found that my uncoiled anger has transitioned toward refueling common sense (necessary to unify solution seeking powers of separate factions of our population), which was absent when the release of emotional reactions raged, back and forth.
Having taken a brief break from Facebook, I found myself able to resume scrolling thru posts much earlier than originally anticipated for two reasons: Though fatigue remains my constant companion, my sense of fury, ignited by horrendous injustice, had served to heighten chemo’s sensations of physical agitation. Given time to calm down, eased my way toward regaining the zen state of mind that I find necessary to maintaining my hold onto sanity during months of battling cancer, which accentuates my need to submit to sequestering myself more stringently than others, being that I’m high risk along with the fact that mustering the energy to enjoy a walk outside is beyond me.
And secondly, as fury on Facebook, which polarizes people into actively antagonistic camps, has also calmed, I’ve been participating in proactive discussions filled with common sense concerning pressing need to legislate lasting change for the better. In other words, I believe that our nation’s nose dive into anarchy has galvanized our awareness of need to take serious steps forward, concerning inequality, which exacerbates injustice, rather than reverting back into complacency, as had been true each time protestors, along with rioters, were arrested by an over zealous police force in the past. Though attitudes of complacency prove classic, time for all to unite and create change is long overdue.
I believe that when considering need of change for the better, going on 300 years, many more people are beginning to assume proactive roles, voicing solidarity, openly, rather than watching from the sidelines, mouths agape, frustrations raw, each time brutality, based in inequality, repeats itself. Though historically, complacency has outweighed consequences that fit the crime, I believe that under trump, much of our nation’s populous (both red and blue) is finally awakening to the certainty that bullies must be called out at every level of leadership or anarchy reigns supreme.
Just as termites undermine the structure of a home until they are seen, I am hopeful that our eyes have finally opened more fully to hardships endured when large portions of our populous fall back into the mental state of complacency rather than addressing need to proactively unite so as to create lasting change for the better across the board.
Though in no way do I condone violence of any kind, history concurs that the squeaky wheel get the oil. It’s classic. On the other hand, lumping all police, together, is no different from feeling that all whites bully people of color. BTW, once more of us become aware of the fact that the majority of our police force is made up of minorities, our perceptions, concerning creating lasting change by adopting realistic attitudes, may rebalance so naturally as to draw people in separate camps, together, in ways that prove beneficial to one and all—and isn’t that the message sent by The Lady In the harbor, whose torch, held high, welcomes the downtrodden to live in a land free of unjust persecution. Annie 🙋🏻♀️🇺🇸
🙋🏻♀️❤️🌈🌻Annie
Sunday, June 7, 2020
Saturday, June 6, 2020
MAINTAINING ZEN DURING RIOTS AND QUARANTINE—AND CANCER
I just thanked a friend for suggesting I watch Nigerian author, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, on uTube, who spoke with eloquence about premature judgments (which in our defense, our brains are preprogrammed to make).
Each time we’re reminded that every person’s life is composed of many stories, most of which contribute to an individual’s personal growth, we offer humility another opportunity to transform antagonists or acquaintances into mutually respectful friends. It’s classic.
As our sons suggest that humidity and heat are soaring in Southern California, hopefully their discomfort while quarantining will be short lived, freeing families to hike and bike. With no hope for balmy days in our desert community till mid October, anything under 105 sounds good to me. Each time Steven and Ravi enjoy a playdate on our patio with Gramma and Papa sequestered behind our Arcadia door, they, wearing bathing suits, take playful dips in our spa to cool off—no need for towels as they air dry in less than sixty seconds flat.
I’m hoping that after three more infusions of chemo, followed by four weeks of healing, my surgery in Houston will be scheduled sometime in early August. As of recent weeks, we’ve been in contact with the cardiac and thoracic surgeons, making the reality of this serious surgery rise before me in 3D ... so, I remind myself to focus on one-day-at-a-time while relaxing into the thought that once in Houston, all I need do is to lie quietly on the operating table, place my faith in my surgeons’s expertise, count to ten and fall asleep, knowing that my task, on that particular day, is far easier to carry out than theirs. Or Will’s. Or our sons’, being that pacing while waiting for good news feels interminable.
As to the riots and my compassion for everyone’s fury at lack of proactive protective leadership, my angst concerning inequality and injustice is vented by penning posts here and on Facebook followed by consciously separating myself from any news reports in hopes of maintaining—no, that’s the wrong wording—regaining the zen mental state that I feel need to recreate, every day, to keep my sense of sanity peaceful, knowing that juggling quarantining, chemo fatigue and injustice offer my active brain too much time to wander ever more deeply into the realm of suppressed frustration concerning personal, national and global problems, which remain unresolved. I choose to regain my connection to inner calmness, day after day, by mindfully redirecting my focus toward counting my blessings which, to my good fortune, number many—such as Will’s untiring attentiveness, our sons’ devotion, our munchkins’ antics, and family and friends, whose love keep my mind actively engaged by remaining in touch, pretty much daily.
And being that laughter is the best medicine, here’s a bit of levity to buoy your spirit and mine, today
(Marshmallows are much less messy than grapes, which, when squished, shoot juice on the loose)
And being that laughter is the best medicine, here’s a bit of levity to buoy your spirit and mine, today
(Marshmallows are much less messy than grapes, which, when squished, shoot juice on the loose)
Stay well and proactive, dear friends, wherever you are ...
🙋🏻♀️🌈🌻Annie
Friday, June 5, 2020
GRATEFUL FOR FATIGUE
Penned Thursday, edited, re-published Friday—
Wednesday’s infusion of chemo went well. Only one medication from now on, the lesser of two evils to insure my platelets of not plummeting as happened with my last infusion. Luckily, infusion days have not been a problem as meds administered through my port before chemo to stave off nausea and dizziness prove effective for me. I didn’t zonk out upon coming home, and so far, today, on-going fatigue is my only side affect. During Wednesday’s appointment with my oncologist’s PA, I was reminded that chemo’s side effects are cumulative, so fatigue will be mine till my last infusion has passed and most likely for several weeks after that while awaiting surgery. Why grateful for fatigue? Months of fatigue beats months of nausea. Agreed?
🙋🏻♀️🌈🌻Annie
Uh oh!
I spoke too soon
By day’s end, yesterday
Fatigue found
A companion to
Keep it company as
A second side effect of
Chemo and steroids
Emerged, causing
Every cell that
Makes my body whole to
Do its own thing as
Though itching to get out
From under my skin
So sleep refused to come
As if repressed angst had
Need to release to
Protect me from
Succumbing to this most
Recent invasion of
Microscopic critters
Which have been
Swimming against
The current of my natural
Blood stream as though
This week’s toxic
Infusion of chemo
(Though less potent) is
So intent upon poisoning
The sarcoma that by
Nightfall it had lost
Its way, causing
Every fiber of
My being to direct
My over active brain to
Cope by hoping that
Sleep would come so that
With the start of
A brand new day
I’d feel better than
Had been true, yesterday
And having decided to
Take a break from
All of the anger
Raging on Facebook in
Hopes of regaining
The zen mental attitude
That has now escaped
Me, I’ve wiled away
These last few minutes
By offering up
An in depth answer to
The question concerning
How I’m feeling—however
No worries, because
Everyone has an off day
And we both know that
Given time, my body’s
Agitation will relax,
My mind will feel peaceful
And my spirit will
Rebound, transforming
Today’s angst into gratefulness
Tomorrow. And so
With hopes that your day felt
Better than mine
Tis high time to rest my mind ...
👩🏻🌈🌻Annie
Wednesday’s infusion of chemo went well. Only one medication from now on, the lesser of two evils to insure my platelets of not plummeting as happened with my last infusion. Luckily, infusion days have not been a problem as meds administered through my port before chemo to stave off nausea and dizziness prove effective for me. I didn’t zonk out upon coming home, and so far, today, on-going fatigue is my only side affect. During Wednesday’s appointment with my oncologist’s PA, I was reminded that chemo’s side effects are cumulative, so fatigue will be mine till my last infusion has passed and most likely for several weeks after that while awaiting surgery. Why grateful for fatigue? Months of fatigue beats months of nausea. Agreed?
🙋🏻♀️🌈🌻Annie
Uh oh!
I spoke too soon
By day’s end, yesterday
Fatigue found
A companion to
Keep it company as
A second side effect of
Chemo and steroids
Emerged, causing
Every cell that
Makes my body whole to
Do its own thing as
Though itching to get out
From under my skin
So sleep refused to come
As if repressed angst had
Need to release to
Protect me from
Succumbing to this most
Recent invasion of
Microscopic critters
Which have been
Swimming against
The current of my natural
Blood stream as though
This week’s toxic
Infusion of chemo
(Though less potent) is
So intent upon poisoning
The sarcoma that by
Nightfall it had lost
Its way, causing
Every fiber of
My being to direct
My over active brain to
Cope by hoping that
Sleep would come so that
With the start of
A brand new day
I’d feel better than
Had been true, yesterday
And having decided to
Take a break from
All of the anger
Raging on Facebook in
Hopes of regaining
The zen mental attitude
That has now escaped
Me, I’ve wiled away
These last few minutes
By offering up
An in depth answer to
The question concerning
How I’m feeling—however
No worries, because
Everyone has an off day
And we both know that
Given time, my body’s
Agitation will relax,
My mind will feel peaceful
And my spirit will
Rebound, transforming
Today’s angst into gratefulness
Tomorrow. And so
With hopes that your day felt
Better than mine
Tis high time to rest my mind ...
👩🏻🌈🌻Annie
Wednesday, June 3, 2020
WISHFUL THINKING GROWS EXPANSIVE, OVER NIGHT
A word of caution—please inhale deeply before tackling today’s train of thought—ok—here goes ...
With hopes that today offers you time to smell flowers while enjoying birdsong, I, myself, am so tired of chemo’s side effects that wishful thinking can’t help but picture this afternoon’s infusion as being a well trained sniper, aiming its hit solely at the tumor while my spirit, which needs to curl up and rest peacefully within my self designated homemade nest, continues to release uncoiling angst, barely suppressed from conscious awareness, concerning the main reason why the underdog, rioting in our streets, is expressing its ravenous hunger for nourishment (withheld by lack of leadership), which can no longer be compressed within tightly lidded cans stamped with dates, long past due, concerning the fact that under trump’s inability to pull the wool over his own shifty little eyes, many voters who’d elected Midas to reign supreme over our nation are hitting bottom as we’ve allowed our value system to slide ever more swiftly down the slippery slope where anarchy awaits to swallow us, one and all—unless new leadership at the helm inspires the majority of our nation’s populous to take a leap of faith over anarchy in hopes of following the compassionate intelligent leadership of Joe Biden, whose comprehensive experiential guidance concerning democratic rules of order will encourage our populous to unite so as to create the promised land where the creed of equality and justice for all proves inclusive of every color of skin, all religious affiliations and both genders of every age.
Thank goodness for intuitive trains of thought that offer my proactive mind and wearied body sound reason to release pent up angst so as to relax more fully while my indomitable spirit invites today’s infusion of chemo to effect change for the better by battering the tumor, hopefully, without battering the rest of me, which imagines every healthy cell standing in solidarity so as to contribute in some unforeseen way to my regaining a wholesome semblance of good health as my future unfolds just as our nation is working toward shrinking the tumor in The White House so as to disarm its false sense of self-empowerment before our nation slips so far into the bottomless pit of despair as to remain blind to the fact that healing depends upon the unveiling of a host of inner strengths uniting against the invader, whose unhealthy presence violates whatever it takes to rebuild a thriving economy in which a community of people of every color and ethnicity feel safely protected by the laws of the land so as to live, side by side, in peaceful prosperity, at last..
And having said my piece, today’s infusion of chemo is ready to wrestle with the invasive tumor within, followed by my sense of wholeness curling up within the peaceful place, which awaits to welcome my host of inner strengths home where resting peacefully proves necessary before I, like our nation, can continue to undergo a serious, life saving transition toward surgery thus ensuring that the unwelcome nature of the tumor within will be wholly exhumed, once and for all.
Though my spirit/mind/body connection remains positively resourceful, I’ll admit that after many months of hospitalizations, physical miseries and several life saving blood transfusions, I’m feeling weary of chemo keeping me so wearied as to be unable to muster the energy to walk to the window adjacent to our front door to wave to friends, holding out homemade offerings of love, each time one or another rings our bell. Though I always want to say thank you followed by blowing heartfelt kisses that’s not been in the cards, as of yet. So when I say—Time for a new deck—I’m sure you get my drift. 🌈🌻
.
Whew! Talk about feeling weary, I’m really tuckered, now. After resting for a while, I’ll reread this post in hopes that it makes sense. And if it does, in addition to being publishing here, perhaps it will show up on Facebook, as well.
😴Annie
With hopes that today offers you time to smell flowers while enjoying birdsong, I, myself, am so tired of chemo’s side effects that wishful thinking can’t help but picture this afternoon’s infusion as being a well trained sniper, aiming its hit solely at the tumor while my spirit, which needs to curl up and rest peacefully within my self designated homemade nest, continues to release uncoiling angst, barely suppressed from conscious awareness, concerning the main reason why the underdog, rioting in our streets, is expressing its ravenous hunger for nourishment (withheld by lack of leadership), which can no longer be compressed within tightly lidded cans stamped with dates, long past due, concerning the fact that under trump’s inability to pull the wool over his own shifty little eyes, many voters who’d elected Midas to reign supreme over our nation are hitting bottom as we’ve allowed our value system to slide ever more swiftly down the slippery slope where anarchy awaits to swallow us, one and all—unless new leadership at the helm inspires the majority of our nation’s populous to take a leap of faith over anarchy in hopes of following the compassionate intelligent leadership of Joe Biden, whose comprehensive experiential guidance concerning democratic rules of order will encourage our populous to unite so as to create the promised land where the creed of equality and justice for all proves inclusive of every color of skin, all religious affiliations and both genders of every age.
Thank goodness for intuitive trains of thought that offer my proactive mind and wearied body sound reason to release pent up angst so as to relax more fully while my indomitable spirit invites today’s infusion of chemo to effect change for the better by battering the tumor, hopefully, without battering the rest of me, which imagines every healthy cell standing in solidarity so as to contribute in some unforeseen way to my regaining a wholesome semblance of good health as my future unfolds just as our nation is working toward shrinking the tumor in The White House so as to disarm its false sense of self-empowerment before our nation slips so far into the bottomless pit of despair as to remain blind to the fact that healing depends upon the unveiling of a host of inner strengths uniting against the invader, whose unhealthy presence violates whatever it takes to rebuild a thriving economy in which a community of people of every color and ethnicity feel safely protected by the laws of the land so as to live, side by side, in peaceful prosperity, at last..
And having said my piece, today’s infusion of chemo is ready to wrestle with the invasive tumor within, followed by my sense of wholeness curling up within the peaceful place, which awaits to welcome my host of inner strengths home where resting peacefully proves necessary before I, like our nation, can continue to undergo a serious, life saving transition toward surgery thus ensuring that the unwelcome nature of the tumor within will be wholly exhumed, once and for all.
Though my spirit/mind/body connection remains positively resourceful, I’ll admit that after many months of hospitalizations, physical miseries and several life saving blood transfusions, I’m feeling weary of chemo keeping me so wearied as to be unable to muster the energy to walk to the window adjacent to our front door to wave to friends, holding out homemade offerings of love, each time one or another rings our bell. Though I always want to say thank you followed by blowing heartfelt kisses that’s not been in the cards, as of yet. So when I say—Time for a new deck—I’m sure you get my drift. 🌈🌻
.
Whew! Talk about feeling weary, I’m really tuckered, now. After resting for a while, I’ll reread this post in hopes that it makes sense. And if it does, in addition to being publishing here, perhaps it will show up on Facebook, as well.
😴Annie
WISHFUL THINKING
I was recently messaged by a well respected spiritual advisor with whom I’d lost touch for many years following his move from the southwestern desert to the southeastern coast where very close friends of ours fully recognize their good fortune to be amongst his congregants.
I understand his caution about voicing political views publicly, most especially at a time when frustrations are raw.
Each time my frustration with irrationality spikes, igniting my ire to write of impeachment on Facebook, that’s actually wishful thinking voicing my impatience for change, aloud. Though we had need to know how many millions remain deeply rooted in the ignorance of prejudice, I believe that every day trump’s leave taking is delayed sees our nation slip further into the black hole that our next administration will need to fill with pro active legislation so as to resolve the massive conundrums, which continue to undermine the value system upon which thirteen independent colonies were originally united. I believe our nation had to hit bottom as a whole in order awaken our need to become fully aware of every aspect of life that’s in dire need of repair so that, with clarity, our values and priorities will actually match.
The last time my spiritual advisor and I were together was in my bedroom, the day before I was admitted to Barrows for brain surgery, which, thank God, proved more than successful. Now we meet, again, before I fly to Houston for a serious heart/lung surgery, once chemo is completed, sometime this summer. I believe our coming together at two highly vulnerable times in my life is bashert. Meant to be. And I pray that my dear friend and his precious family stay home, stay well, stay aware of each one’s need of personal growth and laughter. Lots of laughter!
🙋🏻♀️🌈🌻Heidi
I understand his caution about voicing political views publicly, most especially at a time when frustrations are raw.
Each time my frustration with irrationality spikes, igniting my ire to write of impeachment on Facebook, that’s actually wishful thinking voicing my impatience for change, aloud. Though we had need to know how many millions remain deeply rooted in the ignorance of prejudice, I believe that every day trump’s leave taking is delayed sees our nation slip further into the black hole that our next administration will need to fill with pro active legislation so as to resolve the massive conundrums, which continue to undermine the value system upon which thirteen independent colonies were originally united. I believe our nation had to hit bottom as a whole in order awaken our need to become fully aware of every aspect of life that’s in dire need of repair so that, with clarity, our values and priorities will actually match.
The last time my spiritual advisor and I were together was in my bedroom, the day before I was admitted to Barrows for brain surgery, which, thank God, proved more than successful. Now we meet, again, before I fly to Houston for a serious heart/lung surgery, once chemo is completed, sometime this summer. I believe our coming together at two highly vulnerable times in my life is bashert. Meant to be. And I pray that my dear friend and his precious family stay home, stay well, stay aware of each one’s need of personal growth and laughter. Lots of laughter!
🙋🏻♀️🌈🌻Heidi
Tuesday, June 2, 2020
WHY ARE WE STILL CRAZY AFTER ALL THESE YEARS?
When people ask—when will change actually take place, here is my response—I believe lasting change depends upon voting for those who actually care to make a difference by appointing judges, who will call brutality to task instead of looking the other way ... I’m encouraged that change for the better continues to progress, though much too slowly, as seen by how many white faces intermingle with protesting African Americans. As to rioting, I do not condone destruction and looting, at all, other than to say that raging reactions, which create fear across the board, match the fear felt by blacks when stopped by police for no reason other than the color of their skin ...
People say it’s crazy all over the country as if surprised rather than expecting riots to break free once emotional suppression of rage is provoked to explode. Why feel surprised when all adults have been here, before?
It comes as no surprise that suppressed rage ignites as spontaneously as wildfire (most especially after the added frustration of months of quarantine) once anything provokes a hair trigger release of condensed emotional TNT at which time, groups of angry folk naturally morph into mobs, and every time anarchy is fully released to run rampant through the streets, the first thing to go is any semblance of self control. None of this is crazy. It all makes perfect sense.
As reasons for riots are not new or too complex to understand, we, on the ‘outside’, looking in, must really look into our hearts so as to ask: Will I morph back into complacency each time rioting has passed or has my awareness of becoming proactive about brotherhood deepened so as to remain so intolerant of inequality and injustices that my need to educate myself to vote for those who will legislate change for the better remains self motivated?
Over these last three years, we’ve come to see why living in a Democracy cannot be taken for granted. In three short year’s, trump’s revolving door administration has created anarchy. What is curfew all about? Here’s what curfew is all about: If any portion of out population does not feel safe driving their cars because of police brutality then eventually, it will not be safe for you and I to go out and about after dark. And not until we grow aware of the fact that we’re all in this messed up state of being, together, will lasting change for the better be effected for everyone involved.
Interesting that my mind feels need to release thoughts like these when emotional engagement in casual conversation via FaceTiming feels too taxing unless my sons’ and grandkids’ smiles are enticing my own to come out to play online. Makes me wonder how much of my fatigue, which I attribute to chemo, is actually a result of anger repressed, right now?
Today, I came to understand why I can Zoom with family when FaceTiming with friends feels taxing. While interacting with family, I can breathe it all in while participating very little myself. FaceTime asks me to engage in conversation, often times, one on one, which, in my fatigued state, wears me out, far too quickly.
As several friends, whom I love, deeply, ask to FaceTime, I feel relieved at having expressed how taxing engaging in conversation feels to me. Until today, I had no clue as to why FaceTiming feels more demanding than enjoyable.
Every day, no matter that anarchy is running rampant through our streets, I awaken determined to recreate the zen emotional environment necessary to maintaining my spirit’s upbeat attitude while cancer, ravaging my good health, battles away with chemo, which also ravages my good health, which is why I choose to do whatever proves necessary to remain calm while thousands are dying from C-19 amid cities burning with rage.
As is true of us all, I have my work cut out for me, and thus far, texting with loved ones works best for me, because I can stop ‘feeling’ between sentences so as to consciously relax my mind before continuing at my own pace.
Socks still waiting patiently to be tucked into their own spaces while tweaked weakened back continues to process through healing at its own pace. Though some things can’t be hurried, burning through complacency may prove necessary to hurry change for the better once pain grows too deep for people to contain suppressed fury with decorum intact
Though in no way do I condone rioting, my comprehension of human nature suggests this to be the main root of our problem concerning personal safety: ‘Their’ problems (whether they are African Americans, Muslims, Jews, Hispanics, Latinos, Asians, Chinese, Women, children and the elderly) are our problems, because bullying is bullying, and when the perpetrators of abuse are those who have been empowered to uphold the laws of this land, they must be called to task just as is true of every half baked bully in our schools.
You see, when your problems are too long ignored, eventually they become mine, and therefore, everyone’s intelligence has need to work, together, toward mutually respectful resolution, once and for all. Otherwise, complacency will see us all experiencing same-old-same-old, repeatedly.
And now, having released my compressed suppressed state of angst, tis time to inhale deeply while refocusing my mind toward recreating my healing state of zen—Ohhhm ...
People say it’s crazy all over the country as if surprised rather than expecting riots to break free once emotional suppression of rage is provoked to explode. Why feel surprised when all adults have been here, before?
It comes as no surprise that suppressed rage ignites as spontaneously as wildfire (most especially after the added frustration of months of quarantine) once anything provokes a hair trigger release of condensed emotional TNT at which time, groups of angry folk naturally morph into mobs, and every time anarchy is fully released to run rampant through the streets, the first thing to go is any semblance of self control. None of this is crazy. It all makes perfect sense.
As reasons for riots are not new or too complex to understand, we, on the ‘outside’, looking in, must really look into our hearts so as to ask: Will I morph back into complacency each time rioting has passed or has my awareness of becoming proactive about brotherhood deepened so as to remain so intolerant of inequality and injustices that my need to educate myself to vote for those who will legislate change for the better remains self motivated?
Over these last three years, we’ve come to see why living in a Democracy cannot be taken for granted. In three short year’s, trump’s revolving door administration has created anarchy. What is curfew all about? Here’s what curfew is all about: If any portion of out population does not feel safe driving their cars because of police brutality then eventually, it will not be safe for you and I to go out and about after dark. And not until we grow aware of the fact that we’re all in this messed up state of being, together, will lasting change for the better be effected for everyone involved.
Interesting that my mind feels need to release thoughts like these when emotional engagement in casual conversation via FaceTiming feels too taxing unless my sons’ and grandkids’ smiles are enticing my own to come out to play online. Makes me wonder how much of my fatigue, which I attribute to chemo, is actually a result of anger repressed, right now?
Today, I came to understand why I can Zoom with family when FaceTiming with friends feels taxing. While interacting with family, I can breathe it all in while participating very little myself. FaceTime asks me to engage in conversation, often times, one on one, which, in my fatigued state, wears me out, far too quickly.
As several friends, whom I love, deeply, ask to FaceTime, I feel relieved at having expressed how taxing engaging in conversation feels to me. Until today, I had no clue as to why FaceTiming feels more demanding than enjoyable.
Every day, no matter that anarchy is running rampant through our streets, I awaken determined to recreate the zen emotional environment necessary to maintaining my spirit’s upbeat attitude while cancer, ravaging my good health, battles away with chemo, which also ravages my good health, which is why I choose to do whatever proves necessary to remain calm while thousands are dying from C-19 amid cities burning with rage.
As is true of us all, I have my work cut out for me, and thus far, texting with loved ones works best for me, because I can stop ‘feeling’ between sentences so as to consciously relax my mind before continuing at my own pace.
Socks still waiting patiently to be tucked into their own spaces while tweaked weakened back continues to process through healing at its own pace. Though some things can’t be hurried, burning through complacency may prove necessary to hurry change for the better once pain grows too deep for people to contain suppressed fury with decorum intact
Though in no way do I condone rioting, my comprehension of human nature suggests this to be the main root of our problem concerning personal safety: ‘Their’ problems (whether they are African Americans, Muslims, Jews, Hispanics, Latinos, Asians, Chinese, Women, children and the elderly) are our problems, because bullying is bullying, and when the perpetrators of abuse are those who have been empowered to uphold the laws of this land, they must be called to task just as is true of every half baked bully in our schools.
You see, when your problems are too long ignored, eventually they become mine, and therefore, everyone’s intelligence has need to work, together, toward mutually respectful resolution, once and for all. Otherwise, complacency will see us all experiencing same-old-same-old, repeatedly.
And now, having released my compressed suppressed state of angst, tis time to inhale deeply while refocusing my mind toward recreating my healing state of zen—Ohhhm ...
Monday, June 1, 2020
I’M SO ANGRY!
I’m so angry!
I remember feeling out-raged at injustice many times over my lifetime, but this time, I hope the rage I feel proves as contagious as the C-19 virus. The rage. Not the riots. Because anger serves as fuel. Not fuel to burn and loot, but rather fuel to create change for the better.
Too many years have passed without legislation re-evaluating our justice system. As to human nature, we, who have been too complacent, had little idea of how many red hatted people continue to harbor hard-hearted hatreds, which have been permitted to flaunt themselves, openly, ever since Democrats failed to get out the vote, clearing the way for red hats to elect a bigoted imbecile who, each time he opens his mouth, makes a mockery of the highest office of leadership throughout the land, which may be the home of the brave but has not been the home of the free. That lie cannot be passed forward from generation to generation, anymore!
All oppressed people must stop fearing each other’s differences so as to unite with those who set a high value on creating change for the better that proves lasting in nature, across the board. Though our spoken value system and priorities do not yet match, I can see for myself that change for the better is slowly Progressing forward considering the numbers of white faced protestors intermingling with every variation of black. On the other hand, as all lives matter, change has need to be hurried when brutality feels free to kill vulnerable people at will.
Our nation has not been a melting pot. Our nation continues to be a pot boiling over with rage, and that will not change until change for the better unites everyone who will vote trump and his senator cronies out of office offering the USA this opportunity to start anew—please God.
Though love, alone, does not conquer all, embracing brotherhood, based in loving each other unconditionally, offers us a good place to start effecting heartfelt change for the better, at long last ...
Twas not the Boston Tea Party that won our independence
Twas intelligent people coming together to mindfully pen a legal document that
Created a creed, which, for the times, offered the populous moral guidelines to follow. And I believe tis way past time to create a document that’s mindful of barring injustice based in color, gender and age, today.
I mean, if you want to talk crazy, what could be crazier than abusing a person because of skin color?
Seriously—why aren’t blue eyed blondes warring with dark eyed brunettes?
Annie
I remember feeling out-raged at injustice many times over my lifetime, but this time, I hope the rage I feel proves as contagious as the C-19 virus. The rage. Not the riots. Because anger serves as fuel. Not fuel to burn and loot, but rather fuel to create change for the better.
Too many years have passed without legislation re-evaluating our justice system. As to human nature, we, who have been too complacent, had little idea of how many red hatted people continue to harbor hard-hearted hatreds, which have been permitted to flaunt themselves, openly, ever since Democrats failed to get out the vote, clearing the way for red hats to elect a bigoted imbecile who, each time he opens his mouth, makes a mockery of the highest office of leadership throughout the land, which may be the home of the brave but has not been the home of the free. That lie cannot be passed forward from generation to generation, anymore!
All oppressed people must stop fearing each other’s differences so as to unite with those who set a high value on creating change for the better that proves lasting in nature, across the board. Though our spoken value system and priorities do not yet match, I can see for myself that change for the better is slowly Progressing forward considering the numbers of white faced protestors intermingling with every variation of black. On the other hand, as all lives matter, change has need to be hurried when brutality feels free to kill vulnerable people at will.
Our nation has not been a melting pot. Our nation continues to be a pot boiling over with rage, and that will not change until change for the better unites everyone who will vote trump and his senator cronies out of office offering the USA this opportunity to start anew—please God.
Though love, alone, does not conquer all, embracing brotherhood, based in loving each other unconditionally, offers us a good place to start effecting heartfelt change for the better, at long last ...
Twas not the Boston Tea Party that won our independence
Twas intelligent people coming together to mindfully pen a legal document that
Created a creed, which, for the times, offered the populous moral guidelines to follow. And I believe tis way past time to create a document that’s mindful of barring injustice based in color, gender and age, today.
I mean, if you want to talk crazy, what could be crazier than abusing a person because of skin color?
Seriously—why aren’t blue eyed blondes warring with dark eyed brunettes?
Annie
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