Remote

Jarring. 

Ran into someone I once admired very much for her benevolence and equanimity, her grace under fire, coolness under pressure, and her constant humanity shown to those who need it most and get it least. Things have changed, she said. I'm no longer that jolly person you once knew. 

She and her family got their third Covid booster before traveling. Forty-eight hours later she found herself recovering from two heart attacks and learned that her husband and son had both died. 

I was looking at her on the screen. Oh no, I said. I'm sorry. Oh no. The words were terribly small. I felt impossibly far away. 

Before I start work

I got out of the house after work and found some space between there and the sun's setting to walk about 5 miles in the woods. February thaw. Two days of temperatures above 50 degrees. The surface of the dirt roads is a mixture of melting snow, mud, and wet ice. The perfect surface for a graceless slip and a humiliating fall. I remained mindful and was apparently lucky enough to avoid that experience this time around. I noticed lots of evidence of the recent presence of others. Footprints - dog and human. Bicycle tire tracks. I felt fortunate to have this place to myself in this moment. The experience of being out there changed my mind in the way I needed it to. I watched the blue hour unfold and returned to the car as the darkness arrived. The rain started at about the time I went to bed and continued through the night. When the sun rose, it was still raining. The squirrels stayed inside. I thought of how much I love the way a chickadee descends to the bird feeder writing its short poem in the air.

Stop the tape

Play. Stop. Rewind. Play. Stop. Rewind. Play. There was a lot of that, wasn't there? I said I was ready to let it go once and for all and I did so.

Integration

Reviewing all the parts. The hurt little boy, the angry teenager, the angrier young man, and the hobbled adult. Taking the parts back in, scrubbed clean of all the pain, after removing the shell of negativity that grew up around it. Tears leaking from under closed eyelids. It's not sadness, you realize. It's love. 

Angelic

Her name is Carla Lee. She runs the place with her husband. Two converted sheds filled with statuettes, incense and ornate incense holders made out of painted liquor bottles, crystals, books, CDs, and other mysterious items on a now horseless horse farm. Her Appaloosa passed some time ago. The ground in front of the sheds is covered in a mix of white stones and pink rose quartz pieces. She invites the customer to participate in a complimentary angel card reading upon entering and affords him/her the opportunity to pick up a piece of rose quartz to place beside the altar, if there's someone you're thinking of who's passed on, and to take a piece for yourself and the continued healing of your heart on your way out. 

She served in the Coast Guard a lot of years ago and told me I should never diminish my service by saying "not a combat veteran" when someone asks me if I'm a veteran. She opened the shop because an Angel told her to. She doesn't advertise, except for the three small hand-painted signs I followed, and she's pretty far from centrally located. But, she says, people find her. She came through trauma and addiction and hopelessness. She said most of her family members are hanging from her family tree. She found her Angel after her brother killed himself in his early 40's. That's when she stood up and said, you're not gonna get me too! Things began to change for her after that. Recovery, sobriety, spirituality and an Angelic presence that has never left her. 

We talked for a long time - she and I and sometimes an interjecting Angel. I told her how I'd found her, what led me there. Part of it had to do with feeling like I had more work to do before I could help others. She looked up for a second and told me that "they said, qualified." Meaning that doing my own healing was what would qualify me to work with others. It's not enough to know suffering, to have empathy for the suffering of others. You have to have the experience of your own healing too.

Light rain started to fall. It was getting dark. A bird flew between us at head level. She was planning to play her flute at the open mic in town tonight. The Native American flute. I love the sound of that instrument, I told her, but I don't have any musical talent. Neither do I, she said. I just close my eyes and breathe into it.

If you are alive, I recommend that you see this.

 

Go where the day takes you

She was drumming and singing and helping me to let go of a lot of shit. My eyes were closed. Tears began to leak from the outside corners. Three beings seemed to be standing around me with their love and support. 

The beach was mostly deserted. Exactly as I needed it to be. I walked down close to the surf looking for heart-shaped stones. She said that if I found one I should pick it up. I found several and filled the pockets of my sweatshirt. They weren't perfectly heart-shaped, but we often see the way we feel. A lonely man on a desolate beach weighing himself down with stones on a gray day may give off a certain impression. But that wasn't me today. I wanted to stay. 

During my time on that beach, I saw three others. A man methodically beach combing with his metal detector in the far distance; a woman who walked slowly down to the edge of the surf squatted there for a minute looking out across the ocean then stood and returned the way she came; and a man moving toward me wearing a cowboy hat and a hi-vis orange jacket accompanied by a very large dog. As they got closer, I realized the large dog was actually a tiny draft horse and it was pulling the man who stood on what appeared to be a homemade four-wheeled scooter. 

I wanted to walk as far as I could see, but it started to rain and I was getting hungry. As I got back in the car, I remembered seeing a hand-painted sign shaped like an arrow - ANGELS -  at an intersection. Let's go back there and see where it takes us. It was late afternoon and I hadn't eaten anything yet. 

Westport, Massachusetts. I saw a sign for Lees Market, a parking lot, and a long low roofed building. What a beautiful store. It made me hungry for everything. I bought a few items to take home - Lees own buffalo dip and a box of crackers, a package of store made chorico, a raspberry long john, shrimp Mozambique over spaghetti, and a store-baked French meat pie. They have a small sitting area and a long prepared food counter. I scooped up some of the catch of the day with yellow rice, sat down, and ate happily. 

The people there had a healthy look that seems to come with living in close proximity to the ocean. I could see traces of Portuguese in a lot of them. Black haired and dark eyed women. Ordinary beauty seen with fresh eyes. 

When I was through, it was nearly dusk. I went looking for more ANGELS signs and soon found one. It pointed me out past a defunct dairy farm with it's collapsing silo and led me out to Sodom Road. Apparently angels are truly everywhere.

Once and for all

After all that, I drove to an oceanside state park I visited with my family once as a kid. It was a gray and chilly day and the beach was nearly deserted. The sea was green and deep and the hissing white foam rolled stones and churned up seaweed. I gradually filled the pockets of my sweatshirt with some of the more interesting stones. I was singing something over and over again. I can't remember the words now. They came to me spontaneously. But the message was, thank you.

Life sign

Hey. I suspect that we're all isolated and spiraling as we do our best to keep our feet underneath us inside the meta-crisis, but I wanted to let you know that the squirrels are doing that thing they do as Spring draws near. There were eight of them at the feeders this morning. They're starting to chase each other in spirals up and down the trees, not yet ecstatically, but with a growing tangible energy. I think that's a positive sign. You know?

Ancestral

Thinking about you traveling home. Thinking about what home means to you. Where is it? Who is it? Hoping that I am one brick among its component parts. Wishing you safe passage on your way.

Waves

It's not news to anyone that emotions are like ocean waves. They roll in and then they wash back out again. They pass. It's up for debate, however, as to why the hard ones tend to take so much longer than the sweet ones to wash back out again. 

A couple of days ago this wave of desolation came in. There was something more alarming about it than the usual negative waves. I couldn't attribute it to anything in particular. It was enough to drive me out of my house and into the world. 

I found a familiar bartender I knew some years ago. He's grown more silver, softer looking, just like I have. We told some stories and made a few quips back and forth. I inserted myself into the banter between him and some of the younger wait staff. They made ageist jokes. The "old" bartender is seven years my junior. I didn't know it, but the jokes were stinging him. For me, it felt like just another fragment of the whole unbearable thing that will break your heart and reduce you to tears unless you can distract yourself from realizing it in some way, shape, or form. Like stage laughter. 

You think too much, they've always said. And you don't think enough, I'd retort. 

Travel is an option

You can find yourself walled-off suddenly or gradually. Your world is shrunken down and depopulated. You could accept this as the new normal. Maybe it's just a matter of lacking the energy required to break out of that perception. 

In the dream, you were traveling for work. You were having a drink with two other people while waiting for your dinner to arrive. Presumably these were new and temporary co-workers. The restaurant was on the second or third story, had partial red brick walls, but was largely open to the elements. There was a light ambient fog. As you were chatting, a clear wolfish howl rang out from somewhere close by. Without hesitation and in solidarity, you howled in return. As you finished, you could hear other responding howls winding down. No one laughed or made a big deal about it. You thought maybe this could be a good place. 

The song inside you

Sometimes I found myself close to hearing the melody or grasping the lyrics and sometimes it seemed like I'd never even had one in there to learn how to sing. 

The high side of alone

Once in a while I run into someone who is suffering so much in a relationship with another human being that it makes me glad to be unloved, un-partnered and unattached. I met two of them today. Ghosts can't hurt you that way. 

Seven

Something caught up above my upper teeth on the right side of my head. It hurt enough to make tears flow. She said she could feel an enormous scream of anger, anguish, fear and pain from my teens. Asked me if I fought it out, screamed it out, or swallowed it all. A mix of the three I think. What a strange place for it to stick. 

No comfort food

This afternoon was a long one waiting for the sun to set at 5:19 PM so that I could eat something. I passed the time in between cases watching Phantom Gourmet videos which was not really the best idea. 

Fasting slowly

I walked this evening but not even half the distance I'd expected to cover. A bitter wind rose up at some point and turned this 25 degree dusk into one that feels more like 12 degrees. My shins din't want to cooperate either. You'd think I'd never walked before. 

I heard Robins in the trees today and saw maybe eight of them. The first of the Spring, and it ain't hardly that. I'm sure there's some grumbling going on in that group. Whose bright idea was it to get an early start and beat the traffic? 

It's Valentine's Day, and so I will wish my daughter and her Valentino a happy one. It's also Ash Wednesday and the first fasting day of Lent. I decided to fast between sunrise and sunset and allow myself an evening meal tonight. This coincides conveniently with the news of my highly elevated triglycerides. Dropping about ten percent of my body weight seems like a good idea. I read a novel I've been trying to finish for about a year in between cases today. It was a very quiet day. 

Results

The lab results came in. Some of them were apparently upside down. What you'd like to see high was low, and what you'd like to see low was high. But that gives you something to work on, am I right?

Nothing seems to

Down turn today. Not sure what to attribute it to. Just changing weather, I guess. It's no matter. Snow is coming tomorrow. I put out food out for the birds and the squirrels. Birds haven't found it yet. Two squirrels appeared glad they did. 

Stick to Monday nights

Shopping and errands are bad ideas on a Sunday, and that feeling of what possessed me to come out among people washes over you.

On the turn

Like a horse barn, when the doors are open the air flow is good and the light streams in. Time and lunch with my youngest who has begun to make post graduation plans. On the way home, I walked in the late afternoon sun for a few miles along a quiet river. Talked to a growing family of scrub pines down there.

Friday doesn't hurt

This session, we worked on my spine and the back door of my heart. I saw it plainly this time. Big wide doors that can only be locked from within. Her work around the length of my spine brought up names and faces and a history of behavior. I saw the lesson. And then a history of childhood incidents with a particular theme and a particular remedy. In the end, these are mostly stories I've told to myself. And I tell them still, over and over again. I check them out of the library frequently. Mine is the only name on the card. I know each story by heart. I recite them like incantations and magic is worked. Beliefs are reinforced. Leave those books on the shelf. I tell you. Acknowledged, understood, left to stand in the past where it belongs. Exhale shame. Inhale self-determination. After, I went and  had an incredible Italian sandwich made for my supper. I ate a breakfast of coffee, eggs, beans, toast  and crab cakes in a diner and then went for a 6 mile walk on the bike path. Single people walking dogs mainly, some chatting pairs, a few solo. Most are apprehensive and look at your hands. I drank a lot of water. Had a series of naps. Woke up with neck and back loose and without pain. I was almost afraid to let myself feel what that's like. Like maybe I might jinx it, find some subtle unconscious way to invite it back in. 

Thanks, China

A rolling stand-up desk arrived from China via the (probably Satanic, but terribly efficient) Amazon shipping network earlier this week. I thanked the Chinese engineers who made the assembly simple and the instructions clear today. I managed to assemble the thing without bleeding or smashing anything or flying into a disproportionate rage when I got frustrated. I put the raised desk on wheels to use this afternoon. Too much sitting, when you work from home, will mess you up big time. 

Medicinal

Wednesday. I could feel the sun stay a little longer this evening. I took a walk in the fading light for just a mile which was just enough distance to take me out of past-centered rumination and future-focused fantasy and to put me in my body which was working a little on the hill and feeling a chill in the winter air and appreciating the light and the space. It was enough to change my mood which is like saying it was enough to change the color of the world. 
 

Outside entertainment

Early: A little rock tonight. Jon Spencer and The Hitmakers at The Drake In Amherst. Why not? It's Tuesday. 

Later: I am transfused and revitalized. I don't get any better at dancing as I age, but I do get better at dancing by myself. Something close to joy in sweating and moving (approximately) to the music. High energy band. Crazy bass player. 

Morning lessons

Here's what you need to do. Don't get carried away thinking too far ahead. You're thinking about an appointment this afternoon and not the snow and ice you're walking on in the driveway. You're reminded when your left foot nearly flies out from under you. Don't bust your ass. That's all you need to remember. Watch where you put that next foot, and don't bust your ass. 

I was tested already today. Had an appointment to get some blood drawn at one of those commercial labs. The lab is about a fifteen minute drive from where I live. I left my house forty minutes before. On the way, I encountered two school zones with all the kiddies arriving at once. I got through the first one without much cursing. Go with the flow, I said to myself. The second one involved a five-way intersection and a level of absurdity that made it feel like a cosmic joke being played on me. This can't be a natural occurrence. My anger rose. I could feel my facial expression changing my chemistry. I tried to smile to counter it, but couldn't pull it off. I was able to at least fake it half way by simulating a smile with my eyes. That kept things from escalating. I've got ten minutes to get there now. It'a about five minutes away. When I cleared the school zone, traffic was still backed up. 

Construction. Excellent logistical planning, Worcester. I'm souring again. Man, I'm good at getting myself into this sullen simmering state. It's your own fucking fault, I say, trying to take some responsibility and feeling even worse. Kicking my own ass is something I do very well too. 

Eventually, I get there. The lobby is packed. There's no receptionist just two computer screens mounted on the wall. I read the instructions and check in. The screen tells me I am more than ten minutes late (13) and that I will have to reschedule. Muttering to myself, I leave.

Next door is a bakery. Coffee and something to eat will help. They have delicious looking croissants and Valentine cookies with cute messages written in icing across them. I ignore the latter. Salami and cheese croissant and a cappuccino, please. I tip the girl. There is a mother and little girl sitting in a booth. The little girl is probably three years old. I try to smile at her. Her face hardens and she looks down at the table.  It's not that easy being a cis gendered white man these days, I'm thinking. Nobody knows. 

I find a seat and a little solace in the first bite of flaky buttery goodness. The little girl peaks around the edge of the wooden bo0th at me. I widen my eyes at her. She smiles delightedly and ducks back in. Then she peaks over the top of the booth and I smile for real this time. She does too. 

Something clicked

I forgot the word she used. Change. Transformation. Shift. Something along those lines, but she said she thought it was something major. 

For many years, people in your life have told you that you need to let go. An odd thing to be told over and over again in several states among various people in different phases of life across a lifetime. Yes, you agreed. And each time you thought you did so. You said the words to yourself in a friendly way. You screamed them at yourself in a ferocious way. You cried them to yourself in a desperate way. You wrote the words down. You offered it up in ceremony. You prayed, fasted, went without water, danced, bled, burned and suffered. Many times you thought you must have succeeded in doing so. You were close to death. You did the work. But nothing felt different. There was no release, no decrease in weight, no sustained change in the way you felt or moved in the world. 

Since then, you think you're coming to understand that maybe it's not something accomplished in one go (except maybe through death). Perhaps it's something you do gradually as you become aware of what it is you're holding on to. 

This morning has been filled with memories bubbling up from somewhere. Not only from childhood, but throughout my life. Episodes I'd forgotten or haven't thought about in years. 

Sunlight was streaming in through the kitchen window. I looked at the solar powered flower on the sill where she'd placed it. It hasn't moved in its cheerful way in a very long time. I picked it up and examined it. The plastic arms supporting the butterflies had become unattached to the mechanism within that makes the flower and the two arms move in synch. It was just a matter of lining up small pegs with small black holes in a black background and snapping them back into place. Not so easily done with tremulous fingers and failing eyesight. I turned it over to see if I might be able to pry it open and shed some light on the subject. When I did so, the center flower fell out. I hadn't used any force so I thought it would just be a matter of replacing it. Not so. It had broken clean off. 

Letting go means letting go of all that has passed. Everything. Even what you can't bear to. Especially what you can't bear to.

I moved toward the trash with it in my hand but set it down on the counter instead. I returned later knowing it was time to throw it out. As I tried to do so, I thought maybe I'll just save the flower. When I snapped off the last remaining bit of plastic stem, two of the petals came apart in my hand, as brittle as fallen leaves in November. I had to laugh. 

Alright, I surrender. I give you up.

Shirt

It's hard to find the right shirt on line. I've made a couple of unfortunate purchases in the past few months.  One was the wrong size and the other was a strange fit. Neither looked the way I'd imagined it would. If one plans to return to the world a new man, he should do so in his favorite shirt.

Halfway

The halfway point in the rolfing series - 5 sessions in. She could see that my neck was messed up when I walked in. That's primarily where the tension was. Even more than usual, it's difficult to write about what happened in there. So much. At one point she was working sort of up under the base of my skull, the attachment point of the upper trapezius. It's a spot on my body that's never been touched. She asked me if, when I was younger, I used to do a lot of raging. She said she could feel something like a massive scream in there. Later, she asked if I swallowed that rage when I got older instead of expressing it. At another point, she was working along the center line around my diaphram. My eyes were closed. I remembered the faces and the names of the men in the jail in Anchorage. The circle. Walter Austin, the Elder. The larger circle of corrections officers behind us. The three-tiered crescent of plexiglass fronted cells behind them. The way it felt when we'd hold hands as Walter said a closing prayer. What passed between us there. I remembered all the people in the agency who welcomed me, taught me, showed me care. Tears started to come. When she moved to my legs, something changed and I fell about 85 percent asleep. I was still aware, but something internal had down shifted. When it was over, the tension in my skull, neck, shoulders and back had softened. She looked at me. There were tears in her eyes - most uncharacteristic of her. Without warning, they started falling from mine too. That's your heart opening, she said. Those people you were thinking of are all around you.

Thank you and goodnight

More on call work. The problems of misunderstanding, poor communication, too many patients and not enough time. A system that exists to maintain itself before all else. Everyone should travel everywhere with a posse - a polyglot, a lawyer, a bodyguard, and anyone who can sooth you. That's my recommendation. Oh, and your insurance probably doesn't cover that.