Finding the Balance
It's weird to realize I have been so physically out of touch with my body when it is chemo-free. This is the first time in two years that I have not had toxins pumped into my body for seven months. Kind of appalling when I think about it that way. But everyday for the past several weeks my body has demanded my full attention as it begins to feel a part of me. I hadn't realized there had been such an abyss between me and my body, in fact, I thought I was totally in tune with it. But what I was really focused on was what was being vigilent about what was happening to my body rather than how it was clouding my perception of what it feels like to be healthy. And that is what is happening right now, the process of coming to life inside and shaking free of the poisons that have been running rampant for so long killing any live cells they encounter.
I can only liken it to the process of a dog coming out of a muddy pond, shaking all over to rid itself and feel refreshed and comfortable again. Perhaps I had forgotten what it feels like to be comfortable. And so I have been testing myself as I reacquaint myself with myself. I had two cords of wood delivered recently, dumped in a pile some distance from the shed. I took my 100 year old wooden wheelbarrow to pile, stacked wood into it until it almost overflowed, wheeled the barrow to the woodshed, took one piece of hardwood at a time to stack--big ones separed by smaller ones so that when I get an armful to burn in my pot belly stove in cold weather, I'll have both-- then begin the process all over again. As Dad always said, you get warmed twice when you do your own wood. It is more like an zen experience for me. the smell of the wood, the repetition, the stacking just right up to the roof of the shed, counting the stacks, making sure of the balance so they won't tumble down when disturbed. Two stacks makes a cord--four stacks two. Beech, birch, cherry, oak, they all have their pugent smells. I felt like I bathed in those smells as I worked. The work is strenuous, and it is imbedded with a lifetime of ritual. I would be devastated if I couldn't do this---even thought it takes longer, it is necessary for my psyche. At first I was only able to work an hour a day in this heat wave. By the third day I was working for almost two hours and my body protested less. I was beginning to feel a sensation like an inner humming as my body refamiliarized itself with itself.
I am now down to the final day of the pile. I will take the rest over to my other camp. A longer journey with my wheelbarrow, but still enjoyable. My stamina has increased. I will have to find more heavy work to do daily as I discover just what my body can do now during this temporary surcease from treatment. It will be all too soon before I may have to go back to treatment. I must not assume that that will not be the case. I can not set myself up for disappointment. Instead, I will take it as a part of life and when and if it is not needed, it can be a wonderful surprise. Right now I am fully enjoying and marveling at this renewed feeling of wholeness. It is consuming me, and because of that, I have neglected my school work. In fact, I have abandoned it. I will regret that down the line, but I am unable to do otherwise. I am unable to concentrate on it, althought I have certainly tried. My mind is consumed with this process of fully reconnecting---body to spirit. The world is falling apart around humanity, and I am totally self absorbed with my resurrection. Shameful, but a fact as I am finding my balance.
I can only liken it to the process of a dog coming out of a muddy pond, shaking all over to rid itself and feel refreshed and comfortable again. Perhaps I had forgotten what it feels like to be comfortable. And so I have been testing myself as I reacquaint myself with myself. I had two cords of wood delivered recently, dumped in a pile some distance from the shed. I took my 100 year old wooden wheelbarrow to pile, stacked wood into it until it almost overflowed, wheeled the barrow to the woodshed, took one piece of hardwood at a time to stack--big ones separed by smaller ones so that when I get an armful to burn in my pot belly stove in cold weather, I'll have both-- then begin the process all over again. As Dad always said, you get warmed twice when you do your own wood. It is more like an zen experience for me. the smell of the wood, the repetition, the stacking just right up to the roof of the shed, counting the stacks, making sure of the balance so they won't tumble down when disturbed. Two stacks makes a cord--four stacks two. Beech, birch, cherry, oak, they all have their pugent smells. I felt like I bathed in those smells as I worked. The work is strenuous, and it is imbedded with a lifetime of ritual. I would be devastated if I couldn't do this---even thought it takes longer, it is necessary for my psyche. At first I was only able to work an hour a day in this heat wave. By the third day I was working for almost two hours and my body protested less. I was beginning to feel a sensation like an inner humming as my body refamiliarized itself with itself.
I am now down to the final day of the pile. I will take the rest over to my other camp. A longer journey with my wheelbarrow, but still enjoyable. My stamina has increased. I will have to find more heavy work to do daily as I discover just what my body can do now during this temporary surcease from treatment. It will be all too soon before I may have to go back to treatment. I must not assume that that will not be the case. I can not set myself up for disappointment. Instead, I will take it as a part of life and when and if it is not needed, it can be a wonderful surprise. Right now I am fully enjoying and marveling at this renewed feeling of wholeness. It is consuming me, and because of that, I have neglected my school work. In fact, I have abandoned it. I will regret that down the line, but I am unable to do otherwise. I am unable to concentrate on it, althought I have certainly tried. My mind is consumed with this process of fully reconnecting---body to spirit. The world is falling apart around humanity, and I am totally self absorbed with my resurrection. Shameful, but a fact as I am finding my balance.
posted by AYankee @ 8:34 AM
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