The Hunt

93 degree days smothered my little piece of nature this weekend. It was relentless and stilled the air. My two cats and I stayed quiet on the back screened in porch and hid behind a little 9 by 9 inch fan run by four D cell batteries. At night the temperature drops and the pines stir as if rousing from sleep. When this happens I move to the front screened in porch to get the maximum fresh air effect to give me a false coolness. The black cat joins me in his quest to erradicate all insects and bugs in the immediate area; I call this behavior "bug patrol." He literally hangs by all four paws on the tops of the screens. Quiet entertaining. He's getting quite a workout since it is an abundant time of year for bugs. My other cat has gone through that phase in her younger days and now chooses to stretch out and sleep.
One night of these hot nights last weekend, just as the evening darkened the pines to swallow them into the shadows, a high pitched yipping and keening began, first out back, then around front. More high pitched howling and yapping and keening seemed to come from everywhere. Banchees, I thought. Ha, ha! Actually, the coyote family was training their young to hunt. They had something on the run. Probably a rabbit since the shrill pack eagerly made their way across my front steps and under my camp in frentic pursuit of their prey. The cats are not dumb; they both hid in my bedroom under my comforter. I might have too if I hadn't experienced this eerie display before. It is awesome how intense the hunt becomes as the adult male and female both guide the three pups into the fray by yipping and biting at their heels. That gets the youngsters all stirred up and into a frenzy of shrillness and activity.
At first they all seem to be taking different routes, and at times, crash into each other; eventually they seem to zone in as one unit on their prey.
After tonight's unsettling "entertainment," all that remains outside are clumps of fur. I suspect it belongs to the pups as much as the rabbit, although I believe the pups faired much better. The parents teach their young how to fend for themselves in the wild, at first with a guiding paw, and eventually by sending them off on their own. Coyotes are primarily scavengers in these mountains, but quite a bit larger than their western cousins. They can also be effective predators when necessary and literally wipe out any lame, sick, or injured animal besides anything from the rodent family. They are also forminable tricksters. My neighbor had a big dog, Wooley. One winter a female coyote presented herself to Wooley when Larry had taken him for a walk in a field. The female worked her seductive charms, rolling, whining, and all the usual in heat kind of behaviors to lure Wooley into following her into the woods. With the potential for a roll in the hay, literally, Wooley was game and eagerly followed her. Larry was not fooled. He could see the movement in the woods where the pack of coyotes awaited Wooley and a hearty meal, so he ran screaming to stop his dog. He succeeded and Wooley got to live another day. The coyotes are tricksters not to be trusted, but certainly are to be commended for their teamwork toward a common goal.
Tomorrow I begin another round of chemotherapy with yet another kind of toxic poison. Another adventure into my land of the unknown. I live in a space where each moment must be savored and I am selfish how I spend each one that is granted me. I have really enjoyed living this past month and a half up in the mountains. I almost forgot the battle that is still going on inside of me. But I had to call to confirm my appointment so I wouldn't go all the way to New York City(7 hours) and discover it has been changed. But in doing so, my compartmentalization dissolved. The battle is now in my consciousness, in fact, so much so I have hardy slept for two nights. I read a mystery recently where one of the Native American characters, Rose, calls these thoughts, "squirrels in the night." I had plenty of them. Good thing I was able to get myself down here, where I am now, and will sleep tonight before treatment tomorrow and my drive back to the mountains to recouperate. But although the replaying of bad thoughts are like noisy squirrels at night, I need to quiet them enough to focus on the real battle.
I've been told that it helps the effectiveness of chemo., and there is some research to back it up, if the patient visualizes the chemo. as entities that attack the bad cells--kind of a power of the mind sort of thing. I didn't do that last time. I concentrated on surviving the treatment, and I let the treatment fend for itself. Well, I need a better plan this time. So I will try visualization. I will think of this round of chemo. treatments as a pack of coyotes where the parents are going to stir their young into a frenzy to attack the prey. The prey, in this case, will not be a fuzzy rabbit, but instead, nasty cancer cells. I will mentor them in their quest for food, the cells, and focus all my positive thought on this quest which will effect my own survival as well as theirs. Ok, I think I can get into this. And as if this decision I made last night received a blessing from the gods, the real coyote family pack reappeared in my backyard chasing a mouse and howling just 20 minutes before I was to leave for the city. Yes!I'll take that, magical thinking or not.

Stillness

There's something holy about stillness. Not religious holy, but spiritual holy. A major difference in my book. Religious holy represents a concrete entity, a man-made religion that holds power and awe over other "men.' That has corrupted the world, provided excuses for violence and endless wars all under the guise of "good vs. evil." It has always been so and provided great fodder for literature through the ages.

But I am speaking here about spiritual stillness as holy, awe inspiring, and definitely not man-made. It is just there if you really listen. It's just that we seldom really listen. I have never taken a philosophy course, and I don't pretend to relate this to anything known and discussed at great lengths, probably by minds far greater than mine. I don't even care what they have to say. I am simply grateful when it comes and settles within me, around me, through me, as it has right this moment. It hushes me.

I'm here on my screened in front porch in the mountains. this morning I hauled gravel in my old wooden wheelbarrow down the road and filled in the washboard potholes that have arisen due to the weeks of rains. I stopped, filled in a hole, moved on, stopped, filled in another hole, and moved on until the road was fairly even. I wish life was so simply repaired. Today it is. I worked up a sweat. My mother would take issue with that descriptor. "Men sweat. Women perspire." My grandmother would have tossed out one of her tried and true snapshots of wisdom: "You're getting damp, my girl. Get in here and rinse off. That's a man's job."

No men here today grandma, I say to her memory. I respect sweat. It is a real result of hard physical work. It is a part of my roots, and one I am proud of. Today it has given me a breath of fresh air. I have missed physically demanding work. blue collar work, not gym work. And I've missed fresh air and stillness. both are givens here in my healing place. And from them, comes the internal stillness sure to follow. It's as if they strip my body and thoughts clean, and like a cat, I stretch and purr from somewhere deep inside.

I try to ignore that the end of this month will come and my new chemotheraphy treatment will begin. I will have to keep my bare hands out of the dirt. Back to gloves, and no grubbing around on my hands and knees the way gardening ought to be done. Probably no bare feet either. got to be vigilant again about threats to my immune system. Well, the raod is now in good order, and most of the raking of the yard, putting in of the annuals, and planting of a lilac bush I hope will outlive me. I still have lots of tree trimming, brush hauling, wood cutting, and weeding out of the perennials in the medicine wheel gardens left to do. Gave the inside of my outhouse a fresh coat of paint today. Feels good to work. This is the kind of work that when you're done, you can sit back and admire for a moment the results before going on to the next task. Of course, the tasks are endless. They seem to reproduce themselves just to keep you in your place, keep you humble. I love this stillness. I have missed it over the past nine months. When in chemo., I have tried to visualize this place and all it demands to quell my fears, to put them into perspective, and give me hope. Today I am full.