When we see through our hearts, we recognize that every single one of us is infused with creativity. Divine Sparks are embedded in everyone and everything. It's up to us to be courageous, to look and listen deeply, to find the sparks, gather and release them back into the universe, transformed into something new. Join me as we wake up to the sacred-ordinary blessings waiting to greet us each and every day.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Looking UP (and out and down and in)
Friday's small stone:
Looking back to the beginning of this week I am aware of the way words can tip me off balance, words like "You have JC virus." A good cry and a night of sleep, combined with meditation and the dawning of a new day can just as easily bring me back to center.
Monday: Looking out the car window and up, I saw the tree, the sky, caught in a moment of reflection. And that's where I am dwelling too, in a reflected glance up and out, down and in. Some days it is easier to see the intricacies of life mirrored back to me and discover beauty in a moment like this, outside of my body, but when I sit and look at the complicated network of my neurons, okay, FEEL them randomly firing or misfiring... every bit as wondrous and miraculous as the delicate branches of a tree reaching into sky...I know on one level I am the tree, my nerves are the branches, my soul is the sky...yes I know this, and yet, I am caught, reflecting on what was and will be...because this moment is so hard to stay with, to be in. But this IS where I am. With breath and tears I draw myself back into my body, the sensations that are becoming increasingly uncomfortable on the side of my face (residual neuropathy from varicella, the virus that causes chicken pox and in my case, shingles, two years ago, is no longer masked by the Gabapentin that had become toxic to me) and I practice staying. Because the truth is, there is no other place to go.
It turns out that there is yet another virus living in my body, JCV that is not compatible with Tysabri, the infusion I receive to slow down the progression of new MS lesions. This is the virus that can lead to PML...a secondary viral infection that could potentially kill me. Thank God, I don't have PML, but this piece of information is vital for making decisions about my care from here on out. Is the benefit of Tysabri still worth the risk, now that we know for sure I have the JC virus and we are in year two of the drug? Is it worth it, as I seem to be losing ground again, my movement becoming less coordinated despite this powerful medication? Are there changes in my central nervous system that the MRI's just aren't picking up? We thought stopping the Gabapentin would have me back to where I was in the summer. We saw tremendous improvement for a couple of weeks, but now I am regressing, struggling again to lift my legs after small amounts of activity. We need to regroup, the doctors, (it was my local neurologist who shared the news with me) Gordon and I, to discuss this and decide if it is best to stay the course or change it. There are not a lot of other options here. But there are a few. And so you can understand how my discomfort goes beyond physical sensation to the roots deep down in my heart. Hence the reflective pull toward past and future and the reluctance to stay where I am. And I am remembering my own words of courage to myself; All IS WELCOME, the fear, the uncertainty, the discomfort, the reality of this moment. AND with it, the clear, certainty and comfort of knowing that we will come up with a plan, the fear will give way to peace soon enough. Nothing stays the same. Just as our car passed the window reflecting the tree and the sky, my view will shift, I will be okay. I will learn to be okay with the changes one by one. I'll just keep looking in and down and out and up until I feel my soul is the sky again, and root myself there, in faith.
Tuesday: I went to sleep soon after writing the text above Monday evening, with a prayer in my heart, to wake up with a new view in the morning. I looked straight up, still tucked beneath the covers in bed and out the window. There I spied a planet winking at me from the darkness. I sat up, put on my fleece jacket to ward off the chill, and meditated in our shadowy bedroom. When I opened my eyes next, this is what I saw...
I watched the sky change.
I turned my head, physically shifting my perspective, and watched the sun rise.
I turned my gaze again and observed the lines of frost, the light, the sky the trees.
Watching the frost slide down the window, the blush of pink mingling with the hushed blue of the sky, I saw myself softening on the inside, as well. Settling into the beauty of the moment, anxiety slipping away with the news from the afternoon before, the words that had caught me in fear and grieving, released me as presence gently nudged me back to center. I really am okay.
Wednesday: I'll see my doctor in Boston in two weeks. I will continue to wake up each morning with gratitude, because that's what I do, because this world is so breathtakingly beautiful, because I can turn my head from side to side and my mind from one thought to another and welcome another view.
Thursday: Please forgive me for not stopping by your blogs much this week because: 1. I'm wicked tired. 2. We had a huge snow storm Wednesday (photos tomorrow) so the girls were home on that day. 3. My friends came to visit Thursday, and 4. We have family coming up to visit from PA later today for the weekend. (Yay!) But after Monday, I'll be back to visiting the bloggy neighborhood again.