INTUITION COLLABORATES WITH REFLECTION

As intuition continues to collaborate with reflection, insights emerge clarifying current events of a personal nature that have been irritating my peace of mind though, thankfully, much less today than over this past week.

So while intuitive contenplation simmers on the back burner, here’s what shaped up to my betterment, today.

Yesterday, at the end of this week’s discussion of Shakespeare, our instructor offered up a homework assignment, the whole of which concerning Henry IV Part 1&2 is to be freely designed by each class participant, who will make a six minute presentation to the rest of us, next week.  Being that the main focus of this class is aimed at enjoying the works of The Bard, assignments are not required, so I’d thought not to contribute to this project until my mind, having a mind of its own, jumped right to it upon awakening, today.

As most of my day was spent totally absorbed with a homework assignment designed by my power of intuitive thought, my interest peaked, busying my mind for so many hours that another day of quarantined productivity flew by.

While our vaccinated friends are beginning to venture out and about, our last year and a half was spent too often in hospitals, making us much more cautious of spreading our wings.

After several weeks of feeling free of medical appointments, five are coming up over these next several days, the first of which is tomorrow.  I’ll relate the findings as each appointment comes and goes.

Hoping your day flew by, as well.

🙋🏻‍♀️Annie

THOUGH SHAKESPEARE AND I REMAIN INTERTWINED ...

Hmmm—

Week before last, we freely enjoyed fully vaccinated friends on our patio; however, over these past several days, I’m feeling resistant to partaking in stimulating conversation, which, rather than being easily absorbed, quickly tires my mind.  I find this development surprising, because rather than sleepy, I’m feeling irritable.

Thank goodness, Shakespeare and I are still tight.  Otherwise the days would drag for sure.

With patience, I’ll rely on intuition to clue me in on what’s going on ...

👩🏻Annie

THEE THOU THINE AND MINE

During this year of quarantine, we’ve relied upon our trusty tv screen to offer amusing as well as mindful entertainment, every evening.  

Though I think about taking out the scrabble board, tis good to note that ‘it’s the thought that counts’, because thinking about it is as far as that gets.  No problem, as by evening, I feel content cuddling on the couch with Will, at which time we take turns nodding off, requiring rewinding whatever one or the other has missed.

Two weeks ago, I enrolled in a series of Shakespearean classes, which, meeting weekly on Zoom, see my days happily immersed within early 15th century England, which, when compared with current political conflicts, heightens my awareness of the fact that within every generation, war is to be expected if we are to protect our freedoms from power mongering usurpers (both at home and abroad), whose insecure conceit needs to believe themselves superior to the ‘common’ folk in every way, and thus must they find others willing to bend toward serving the bully (who had been bullied) by bowing down so far as to scrape one’s nose on the ground while burying honesty, honor and dignity in bull shavings so deep as to sully their brains’ capacity to think clearly.  And as long as human nature has two sides—hot-headed brutality so self absorbed as to be defensively offensive vs lion hearted and well schooled in the vital importance of pragmatic, compassionate world-wide diplomacy—that will be that—as one generation passes the baton to the next.   

Though my train of thought concerning war being inevitable could be depressing, eventually, upon addressing and accepting an objective view of today’s reality matching historical fact, my anxiety lessens, enhancing peace of mind by way of absorbing this belief system—upon studying world history, we find that good doth smite down evil within generation after generation, and that’s most especially true once democratic principles are taught in school and experienced at home, suggesting that once we see ourselves as eternally evolving citizens of the world, who have a long way to go on the historical time line before the bell shaped masses can hope to co-exist in peace on planet earth (which we’d better take care of as space travel is also still in its infancy)—we’d best concern our minds with contemplating the evolutionary nature of mankind while focusing our noses toward cleaning up our own little corners of the world, unless thee aspires to national leadership, which suggests investing thy fortune in Excedrin extra strength, ASAP.

As for me, once today’s soliloquy is posted to FB, back to the 16th century doth I goeth with a sense of eagerness to absorb as much of The Bard’s poetic wisdom as time, today, allowth. 

Chuckling with tongue in cheek, I hope all goest well with thee and thine🙋🏻‍♀️🤺🧘🏻‍♀️

Annie, Mistress of Myself

ARTICULATION

So which detail did I leave out of my current health update sent to family and friends?  The fact that today proved better than has been true over these last few days, as a heaviness inside my head has lessened though not lifted completely.  As this sense of heaviness was not mentioned so as to save loved ones from worrying unnecessarily, its lessening remains between you and me—and Will, who being an M.D., suggested we ‘wait and see’.  

Last week, we enjoyed friends on our patio, every day.  This week, has been quiet, which is good in keeping with how I’ve been feeling.

As last week saw me all caught up with the first two class sessions that I’d missed, my new interest in Shakespeare serves to fill my time with a sense of pleasure, no pressure, whatsoever, throughout the week.

On the other hand, my mind feels resistant to speaking or writing, both of which require mental articulation, which, during conversation, has proved slow witted concerning my trains of thought coming together.  So if I did experience a TIA, last weekend, during that lengthy moment when I couldn’t think, at all—perhaps the portion of my brain, which may have been affected (hopefully temporarily), pinpoints my oral connection to mental articulation.

As you can now see why another quiet day is fine by me, I’m hoping all is well by you.  🙋🏻‍♀️Annie

PS  Yesterday’s current health update was actually penned several days before this sense of lagging articulation laid heavy on my mind.

STATION BREAK FOR CURRENT HEALTH UPDATE 2021

Hi Everyone😊

Over this past year and a half of chemotherapy and surgeries, I‘ve not yet recouped the stamina for much in the way of long-lasting mental absorption, because stimulating conversation requires an output of energy that quickly tires my mind.  Even so, two weeks ago, I decided to join my dear friend of sixty years, Michael S., whose enjoyment of a weekly Zoom class—reading, watching and discussing Shakespearian plays—felt so contagious that my interest peaked enough to read Richard II, followed by watching the film, starring Jeremy Irons, in preparation for studying Henry IV part 1 and 2.

As of now, I’ve thoroughly enjoyed two Zoom classes, which, meeting on consecutive Mondays, are one and a half hours in length.  Good thing we meet mornings before it’s time to nap.😊. Having become an integral class participant, I enjoy time spent with The Bard, every day.

And here’s why our study of Shakespeare, penned in old English, presents less of a challenge to comprehend than ever before:  Our instructor’s textbook of choice is aptly titled No Fear Shakespeare for this reason—The Bard’s English appears on one page with a contemporary translation on the page facing the first.  So for the most part, as a beginner, the wheels of my mind remain relaxed while reading the contemporary version, most often, just as I’d once relied upon training wheels to relax my balance.😊 

As I’m not drawn to our tv during the day and as I’ve enjoyed but never studied Shakespeare, my eagerness to discuss his life and works have jump started my long time love of English literature, which remained fallow for more than a year’s time.

The fact that Will and I are more than two weeks past our second dose of the Pfizer vaccine finds us sitting outside on our patio for the first time in more than a year enjoying the company of dear friends (one couple at a time), also fully vaccinated (masked and distanced) until I tire and feel need to rest.  As most of our local friends are fully vaccinated, we’ll look forward to being outside on our patio, enjoying one couple after another, until mid spring when rising temps are sure to drive us indoors.  I believe it will be awhile before my comfort zone feels free to go anywhere except for Mayo.

Two weeks ago, our dear friend, Joyce, called to say that one of our stadium sites had been left with extra doses of the Covid vaccine.  Luckily, upon calling Steven, we reached him, right away.  So thankfully, he and Celina received their first doses of the Pfizer vaccine.  Today, Steven sent a photo of Ravi sitting before her computer in her virtual school setting, dressed as a mermaid.😊Their patio visits continue to be the highlight of our week.

Barry, residing in southern CA, was the only one in his family not to catch Covid.  Long story short, their household experienced a three week siege in which Tony felt ill, first, Ray (asymptomatic) tested positive as did Marie, who, feeling feverish and ill, ministered to the boys and slept in the guest room.  As Barry’d tested negative, the master bedroom became his work space, living, dining and sleep space, over that three week expanse of time.  Interesting how, retrospectively, a trying time, being reduced to facts, fails to address natural human reactions experienced, individually.  Thankfully, all are well.

Ever since driving back to LA from Phoenix in January, David’s been quarantined in his apartment.  He keeps sane by Zooming professionally and with friends (who also meet at the park, masked and distanced).  Happily, the Phoenix Suns are winners, this year

Our evenings, during quarantine, are spent cuddling on the couch, watching tv and there’s lots of rewinding as Will or I tend to doze off, now and then.

We’re both enjoying Lincoln: Divided We Stand on CNN

Broadchurch, a series on Netflix, stimulates our sense of intrigue. 

The Good Cop on Netflix offers a comedic romp with Tony Danza in the lead.  Episode 3 reveals the funniest story of all.

Anne With An E is a series, several seasons in length, each episode as heartwarming as the last, again on Netflix.

As to series in which violence is prevalent—because violence sells—Will enjoys that popular genre (a modern day testament to testosterone pumping naturally through the male blood stream with no outlet in sight), during the day, while I cultivate the classic eloquence of Shakespeare, who, with quill in hand, composed descriptive passages expressing every aspect of human nature in such a poetic fashion that the presence of violence doth not pierce my peaceful state of mind with spiking anxiety as happens while absorbing the same on today’s graphic tv programming.

It’s been of interest to note that, during quarantine while facing additional months of healing ahead, the days fly by.  And little by little, as my breathing eases, oxygenating my brain’s natural capacity to concentrate for many minutes longer than had been true the week before, my desire to reorganize ‘this and that’ within my environment heightens in direct proportion to the lengthening of my mental and physical stamina suggesting that a cheerful desire to set realistic goals matches positively focused energy, regained.

As always, Will joins me in sending our love and hopes that all is well with you and yours,

🙋🏻‍♀️😊Annie

Sent from my iPad

14 WILL THE MISSING DETAIL SLIP INTO MY CONSCIOUS MIND AS I WRITE?

For sixty years, Will’s been sure we skated at a park near his house.

For sixty years I’ve been sure we skated at a park near my house.

This conflict offers an instance where we can’t both be right or wrong or compromise.

Where we skated is a fact, so one opinion must be right, and the other must be wrong; yet for sixty years, our differing opinions have not budged.

Well, actually, Will’s memory and mine have not differed for sixty years, based in the fact that, six decades ago, short term memory on both sides must have agreed as to where we’d skated or one of us would have considered the other so looney as to break off our dating connection.

I’m sure that during our five year courtship neither questioned the other about where we enjoyed our first date.  (And curiously, we never ice skated, together, again, until that activity was enjoyed with Barry and Steven when David was a babe in arms.)

Common sense suggests that somewhere down the road, Will’s long term memory or mine, while hiking back toward 1961, took a wrong turn and has remained stuck, skating round and round a rink at the wrong park from then on.

For decades, I’ve persistently insisted that never in my entire life had I skated at Will’s neighborhood park just as Will has persistently insisted the same about skating at the park near my home.

Only lately has my attitude’s rigidity loosened from ‘never happened’ to I ‘can’t remember’ ever skating at the park closest to Will’s house.

Why does one or the other person’s lapse in such a trivial memory remain highly topical, sixty years later?

Because if Will or I can’t get something as simple as where we’d skated straight then what else might one or the other ‘remember’ with such inaccuracy as to cause a vital relationship to skate on thin ice?

 🙋🏻‍♀️Annie

13 LET’S SHINE A MOON BEAM ON OUR FIRST DATE’S MYSTERIOUSLY LOST DETAIL

We often hear that memory is a funny thing.

If you ask me, memory is far from funny when a series of inter-related experiences proved so traumatizing to a healthy young mind as to arouse an innocent child’s defense system to erase every detail of those experiences, which had felt as terrifying as would sudden bolts of lightening cast down furiously from on high, striking a stupefied young heart as if electrical shocks running through her inexperienced nervous system from head to toe were empowered to stunt the natural development of a good little girl’s emotional growth until, decades later, when by-monthly sessions of EMDR therapy (Google it), gently unwrapping my deeply sorrowful, subconscious anguish from its coma-like, solid mental block, encourage my intuitive powers to unseal the door behind which deeply shocked, personally horrific details are released, one, slowly leading to another, not necessarily in order so as not to overwhelm the conscious portion of my adult mind with spikes of yesteryear’s unprocessed and thus unhealed terrors left too raw to manage the current state of—my well ordered life without the stabilization of astute, compassionate professional help.

Thank goodness, the mysterious detail in question, today, is NOT one of those that haunt my adult mind with a gloom and doom sense of mysterious terror lurking deep within subconscious memory, today.

Today’s mysterious detail is a funny thing, because each time we discuss the discrepancy of detail arising from within the recesses of Will’s conscious memory and mine, we agree to disagree and end up laughing about who’s been right or wrong, over these past 60 years, and though I’m truly not meaning to tease, I’ve tired of writing, so the humorous nature of the missing detail to which I’ve been referencing will appear on your screen when next we meet ...

🙋🏻‍♀️Annie