Fear/Joy

For the last few days my fear has acted as an unruly barrier to my joy. I've found myself grouchy, temperamental, unpleasant, and at times even inconsolable. Only in the moments of work when my counsel has been useful have I felt any sense of my joy. Fortunately, things are very busy at work and an hour or two there buries the fear.

But it comes back...It sneaks back in the restful hours of the evening when I'm trying to plan my weekend, when I'm asking myself, "What should I do?"

I have no answers and that is scary to me. I am weighing staying and going, but neither seems like the right choice. I am not in harmony even with what I want to do...which is to stay home and ignore the whole situation. But even then, there's a part of me that believes there is no getting away...there is no hiding...there is no respite.

Not until I deal with it one-on-one, call it by its name and demand it go away.

There is too much at risk if I don't deal with my fear...but I know that my joy will wait patiently while the fear will run amok until I get it under control.

Hope

"For hope, contrary to popular belief, is tantamount to resignation. And to live is not to be resigned." Albert Camus, Summer in Algiers

I've thought a great deal about that word hope since reading that line and it resonates strongly with me. We often find ourselves sitting still and hoping for this and that rather than actively working toward change.

I have also followed Leroy Sievers' blog "My Cancer" for quite some time now. He has stage four cancer, and has been through more treatment than I believe I would have the courage to try. Today I read this:

Did it work? Did the radiation I had last week do what it was supposed to do? I don't know. I can't tell. At least, not yet.

The radiation on my brain is a long-term thing. Our goal there was to slow down any tumor growth and prevent any new problems. If there are side effects, they'd show up in about three years or so. Needless to say, not something I need to worry about.

My pelvis, and the pain there, is still the main thing I have to worry about. The hope was that the radiation would heal some of the fractures caused by the cancer, and kill some nerve cells to lessen the pain.

Honestly, I can't tell if it is working or not. I'm trying to be patient, because it was supposed to take a couple of days before any effect would be noticeable. But I still have pain there as I write this. The same? More? Less? I honestly can't tell.

I guess patience really is the key to this. Whatever improvement I get, I will be grateful for. If things stay the same as they were -- well, I haven't lost anything that way, either.

That's the way it goes in Cancer World. You take your best shot, hope for good results, and live with what happens.

I can do that.

I understand hope in the context of life and death matters; in places where we need patience, courage, and relief; where what we seek is mercy pure and simple.

In that case, hope delivers life.

Courage

"When we discover our connection with the earth, courage becomes as natural as breathing."


I read that somewhere today. I was filled with gratitude.

Looking in All the Wrong Places

I take notice each morning when leaving the house of the mating pair of cardinals in my backyard...usually low in the magnolia tree chirping at me; clearly warning me. They must have their nest in that tree.

I sit on my back porch scanning through the tree for the nest. I look each morning from the higher vantage point of my shower window for it. The tree is so dense with leaves, it's hard to see anything in there.

Then, in the early evening yesterday I was reading on the back porch and the cardinal pair was sitting on the fence behind me chirping exuberantly. I turned slowly to look at them and, as I turned, I looked right at the nest...in the rose bush that climbs the trellis over my back porch. At standing height, it is around eye level. I'm not tall enough to see in it.

When I peer out my back door quietly, I can see a little cardinal head peeping out of the nest. I note they fly away whenever I go outside; whenever I let the dogs out.

I do hope they adjust to us...this year they were here first and deserve to nurture their babies in peace.

Je te Adore

To adore, according to Merriam-Webster, means:

1 : to worship or honor as a deity or as divine 2 : to regard with loving admiration and devotion <adored his wife> 3 : to be very fond of <adores pecan pie>

Several weeks ago, an acquaintance was described as "looking for a man who adores her." This was described in detail as wanting a man who puts her up on a pedestal and treats her like a deserved princess, worships her and buys her extravagant gifts. I thought, "no, that kind of relationship would not be for me." Viewing someone as though they are beyond perfect and without fault comes with very high expectations and is bound to lead to disappointment for everyone. It's certainly not the kind of love that nurtures the soul. It's the kind of relationship that removes you from what is real; what is life. Not for me.

Then I considered that word "adore." There are many people whom I adore. I really truly adore them. There is no better word for it. I love them, admire them and, for me to adore them, they also tickle me to no end. They make my daily sense of being that much more pleasurable. I have friends, colleagues, family members, and a lover who I adore. Literally.

So, thinking of these people who I adore, people who comprise the substance of my heart, I am certainly struck with the irony of this word. Adoration comes in two varieties. In terms of the nurturing it provides, those two are worlds apart.

[missing you, Jack. Have a beautiful time in WY.]

Editing for Others

About 10 years ago I wrote my first piece for public distribution -- a technical document on the processes and tools for developing an EnergySmart School -- I developed a large editorial board that helped ensure technical credibility and to ensure that I was properly addressing the language requirements of the Federal government. The project was sponsored by the US Department of Energy's Office of Energy Efficiency and Renewable Energy and there were many restrictions on how I could use language and present benefits.

Anyway, to my surprise, many of the edits arrived with sincere apologies for the suggested changes. Yes, I painstakingly arranged the 16 81/2" x 11" pages into philosophy, technology, process, tools and using the school as a learning laboratory. Concise with text and dense with information, the booklet was geared toward school administrators to help them understand the benefits of high performance building. And I, a visual and kinesthetic learner -- I who am not often detail oriented -- needed all of the help I could get editing for content, continuity and flow.

It was only with gratitude that I received these edits. Each person's efforts made the document that much more robust, concise and a joy to hand out to others. Without those efforts, I would have never known if I was representing so many points of view well; without those efforts I would never have known whether I was actually communicating well with anyone.

To this day, it is my pleasure to have other people edit my work. It is a necessity for me. Even more so, it is an honor when I am asked to reflect on the work of others.

Appearances

Eating peacefully alone yesterday afternoon:

1)

Me: Spagio, asparagus and lobster ravioli, the NY Times, a glass of cabernet eating alone on a late Tuesday afternoon. Something brought me to thinking about my mom who frequently eats alone at Applebees eating a grilled chicken wrap, reading an historical romance, drinking chardonnay...

So similar, yet worlds apart.

2)

Four women. All dressed well in mostly white summer outfits. One without makeup, just from the gym. All drinking the same draft lager from the tap at Spagio. All excited to be there. All with the same nicely dyed blonde hair color but different styles.

Question: Would you expect they had their fingernails done?

I did.

Not one of them did. Each one's nails were short, well manicured and unpolished.

Interesting, isn't it?