"Going home" carries a lot of emotion as I say it to myself. Being close to my beloved cats, gazing at my Buddhas, listening to music and staring out at the birds, playing at my computer, and watching endless old movies .... behaving in any spontaneous fashion without a thought of being observed or critiqued .... yes, that freedom that my mother was so obsessed about at the end of her life. And, on the other side, the sense of aloneness that is both a gift and and reminder of our final, irrevocable state. Will I long for company once I find myself at home alone? Or, will I be happy being tended by a delightful sounding woman from Kenya who will do home care-taking of me for a while?
From here I go to daughter #2's house for about a week, where the challenges will be greater: the children, the lack of downstairs bathroom, the humility I'll be forced to experience as I use a portable toilet, etc., etc. Wanting to be around family some more, I will go there, but I am sure it will have its trials. I seem to carry those trials with me wherever I go because of the inherent helplessness of my body. Will the three ring circus be a sufficient distraction from the profound restlessness and discomfort I feel, or will it just underscore and magnify that physical condition? I have only to move toward this opportunity to find out. And take everything one day at a time....
Was relieved to finish Cutting for Stone, a 600 page epic that is both beautifully written and in some cases predictable and repetitious. I learned more about surgical practices than I ever imagined I would, and was reminded of the impassioned life of many who practice medicine. Gave me a deep sense of gratitude for all those who are impassioned and dedicated to healing. It is interesting the part that the ego plays in medical practice; it has to be firmly rooted and vital, and yet when it comes to trauma care, I think it must have to step out of the way, as the doctor follows his internalized knowledge straight through to the resolution of an extraordinary problem. I bring that up because I wonder a great deal about the balancing act of ego and that wonderful concept of "no self" that the Buddhists teach. The ego helps us move forward on life's path (sort of like the engine driving the bus), and no self allows us to let go and embrace all that is, and therefore avoid suffering. Looking back again to the incident on the street when I was hit by the car, I know that ego was in full force from the very moment of the impact -- all that screaming out in pain and distress, my ego crying out to be noticed -- and that the letting go part wasn't able to manifest until I became safely tucked on a gurney, or a bed, and could see that some form of order would prevail. Verghese's book also reminded me of how very vulnerable our human bodies are - vulnerable and resilient at the same time. I (we) must trust that those about us will give the best care they can, and at the same time I (we) must accept that life (health, longevity, safety, happiness, etc) is uncertain. The more we see and live with uncertainty, the more precious every moment, every piece of our life becomes.
As I keep returning to this blog, convinced of the importance of entering my thoughts, I also feel as though I'm dragging myself there, so tired of the meanderings of my mind. I yearn to discover fresh new thoughts, and instead encounter the same old questions and doubts, much as my body keeps returning again and again to similar disturbing physical sensations. Variations on the theme(s) of reflection, insight, and pain.... Here's hoping that those of you who are reading can follow this spiraling tune that is playing out!
I agree about Verghese's book. But also about being alone and not. So well described the back the forth that we go through with ourselves. I think people who arrange to busy themselves continually do so to avoid dealing with this never ending battle within ourselves.
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