A dark, damp day

The alcove

The lotus is the most beautiful flower, who petals open one by one.  But it will only grow in the mud.  In order to grow and gain wisdom, first you must have the mud — the obstacles of life and its suffering. …  The mud speaks of a common ground that humans share, no matter what our stations in life.  …  Whether we have it all or we have nothing, we are all faced with the same obstacles:  sadness, loss, illness, dying and death.  If we are to strive as human beings to gain more wisdom, more kindness and more compassion, we must have the intention to grow as a lotus and open each petal one by one.

~ Goldie Hawn

Raindrops in the white pine

I tried.  Honestly.  I did.  I spent most of the day yesterday in my jammies, wrapped in a blanket by the fireplace, spaced out with illness.  I let the television ramble on in the background for a while until I couldn’t stand the noise of it anymore.  I tried to read, but couldn’t focus.  I napped.  And slept.  And appreciated the attempts by the cats and M to make me feel better.  I sipped on soup and tea.  I took a long soak in the disco tub, reveling in the steam, the warmth, and the sinus-clearing scent of the bath salts.  I went to bed early and slept late.

I’m not sure how people manage it, lying about all day.  My body doesn’t seem to like it.  Not at all.  My back and hips and legs become stiff, and begin to hurt from the lack of movement.  I couldn’t do it another day.  I had to get up and move.

I took a slow walk around the pond.  We had rain overnight and it’s overcast today.  Dark and moist.  The fresh, humid air and the exercise helped, although I don’t think I’ll be up and about for much longer.  It’s still morning as I put this post together.  I bet I’m back in bed or lounging by the fireplace within the hour, if not sooner.

I can’t remember the last time I felt this awful.  Everything hurts, even the hair on my head.  My throat feels raw, my head is stuffed up, and well, I’m just plain miserable.

Still, I’m glad I went out for a short walk if for no other reason than to admire the raindrops on the pine needles and to listen to the birds who appear to be enjoying this dark, damp, warm day.  Perhaps they’ve heard the news, that winter is coming, and they decided to get out and enjoy the warmth before the storm.

The elusive male cardinal decides to pose

The birds were quite sociable, flying around just a tree or two ahead of me throughout my walk.  I saw at least three woodpeckers.  The male cardinal pretended not to notice me.  Or maybe he was busy watching his mate who wasn’t too far off.

Now that I look at that last photo again, I can see he has a twig in his mouth.  Maybe he’s shoring up the homestead for the winter storm that’s been predicted for this weekend.

Grasping

Illness is the night side of life, a more onerous citizenship.  Everyone who is born holds dual citizenship, in the kingdom of the well and in the kingdom of the sick.  Although we all prefer to use the good passport, sooner or later each of us is obliged, at least for a spell, to identify ourselves as citizens of that other place.

~ Susan Sontag

I think that’s about all I have in me for today.  Thank you all so much for your well-wishes which I am positive are making me better even if I don’t quite feel it yet.  I promise to spend the afternoon resting and recuperating.

Severe isn’t a word normally associated with a cold.  Severe is for weather or third-degree burns… No one responds ‘severe’ when someone ask how her cold is.

In fact, nine out of ten Americans respond to ‘How’s your cold’ with ‘It sucks.”  So there should be an It Sucks cold formula.

~ Celia Rivenbark

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