Archive for July, 2010

And off we go again, Westward Ho!

Posted in Uncategorized on July 21, 2010 by Queenie

Well now, get a load of these prophetic words:  I have wearied of feeling tired and hurt and broken, both in body and in spirit.  I have given myself over to healing, even if the healing hurts.  A long time ago I wrote something resembling that sometimes you have to mess things up to clean them up.  I think I had to scramble my innards to get them repositioned, maybe needing to break some bones and strain some ligaments to reset them into their proper places.  Not only my body, but my mind and my heart have been involved with The Change.  I had to change, in so many ways, to live the rest of my life without the daily drudgery of standing in poor posture or calling something Love when it wasn’t, really.

And blah blah blah.  And whom do I quote?  Who was the person who spoke such sage and now personally meaningful words?  Well, duh, looky here….little ol’ me, just a few weeks ago.  I’m beginning to think I’d better be watching what I say, and do, and even think now.  I’ve known before, but not gone very far down the path, that I am somewhat psychic, and powerful in ways that can be surprising, and maybe even frightening if, in the words of all those pitiful science fiction and morally preachy movies, “in the wrong hands.”  My goodness, look what I created born out of my own thoughts – said broken elbow and strained ligaments.  Golly gee.  Now, let’s see what I can bring forth if I concentrate on some positive things instead of what I might consider breaking next – even if it’s in the name of Good Work.  I take back what I said about needing strained ligaments and broken bones to set my attention on the right course.  Point taken, thank you very much.  Only thing is, I’m not sure they’ll ever be set in quite the right places, and I may have a wonky elbow for all time to come to remind me of what comes of misplaced energy and thoughts.  Maybe I need a righteous reminder, lest I forget what powers we have to create.

And now what?  I seem to have been asking that a lot lately, too.  But these have been “interesting” times of thought.  My dreams have been saturated with the gone one, laden with worry and sadness, as if I weren’t quite cured yet.  He’s always quite gone, and so should it be.  But the slow moments that have come of injury and recovery have added layers of introspection that I wasn’t thinking would present themselves.  I keep thinking I’m done, but this is going to take a while, I see.  The mind, the heart – they do their work, but the subconscious wanders on, bringing images and concepts that weigh heavy on awakening, as in WTF was that all about?  Still?  MORE?  When might I declare myself cured?

But today I’m feeling pretty good.  I’m off soon for a jaunt Westward, to one of my favorite art shows, with wonderful friends thrown in the mix to make it all that much better.  No longer being “scared” about re-injury, the dogs and I are back to our evening walks, and one night was a curious reminder of the night of the Big Fall – another rainbow and beautiful sunlit thunderheads all around, with a cooling breeze from the south, bringing the smell of rain.  We didn’t get any, but that smell…..  The dogs are always joyous and excited about the end of the day walk, especially Custody Dog whose Indian name would have been Born to Run.

And she’s a story in herself – a living, breathing, reactive creature who brings me much pleasure and companionship, something both of us were lacking in when she belonged to “them,” and I thought I did, too.  In the end, we ended up with each other, and we’re both better off for it all.  She would’ve been dead by now from the medical conditions that had gone untreated for years, not to mention the fact that feeding her was something that sometimes got overlooked.  And forget about having a doghouse – that was out of the question.

She was “aggravating” to TG, always NEEDY and pushing for attention and affection.  (Granted, she wasn’t his dog, and came with the territory of the time, but still…)  Makes me wonder if he thought the same of me, since I felt not a little the same at times.  Custody Dog amused herself by chasing squirrels and birds in her yard, which she was relegated to a great deal of the time.  When I was over there, I took extra time to talk and play with her, and didn’t push her away.  A little human contact – that’s all she wanted, and NEEDED.  Now she’s not pushy or needy at all, but she gets all the affection, and more, than she likely ever imagined.  She is a changed dog, and all for the better.

I suppose I’m rather changed myself.  I always found ways to amuse myself, too, when not with TG.  Though often accused of the “needy” thing, somehow I managed to spend time with friends, take road trips without him – BIG road trips, photographic workshops and homages to the West that I love.  He of course claimed that I demanded too much of his time, or complained that he played too much golf, or….. Oh never mind!  It just doesn’t matter anymore, DOES IT?  The only upshot of all of it is that it is so much more obviously evident to me now how both Custody Dog and I were denied our basic rights and needs of being living creatures, and summarily judged and condemned for having such traits.  This was Love?  I think not.  And yet, as I wrote before, I called it so, and lived as such, only it wasn’t very satisfying.  But I settled – for a long time – and Custody Dog might not have known Choice, but luckily she ended up with someone who stood up for her.  Now she’s healthy and happy, and a living testimony to what Love can do.  And it ain’t WITHOUT.  I stood up for her, and at the same time, I stood up for myself.  Enough of settling for Less – for crumbs – or for a poor meal, if someone remembered to feed us at all.  Or resented having to do so.

Custody Dog rarely goes too far from me – except when she takes out in abandon when freed on the Back 40.  She often comes and sits fur to skin beside me, looking up and into my eyes.  It was hard for me to let her go in the Back 40, to turn her loose without her leash, knowing that she could run off, get lost or injured in her high speed runs that she loves so much.  But she’s always come back to me – the perfect example of letting go of the thing you love, in order that it may come back of its own free will.  And there, dear friends, is the difference, and the gift, of Love.

TG considered Love to be defined with chains instead of Freedom.  What a pity.  It still amazes me (and still hurts, in that old familiar way), that he could let such a good woman go.  Or never see the potential even in a dog.  Both she and I presented only confining definitions of Commitment and Limitations.  Hard to believe, even now.  But so it was, and so it still is.  I hear he’s moved on to the next one, and that he’s happy.  We are so conveniently out of his life – no more trouble from us.  (You’re welcome.)  I can analyze it from dawn till Armageddon, and it will never make sense, but as Queenie’s Favorite Advisor so often advises:  You can’t make sense out of the senseless.  And such situations were the birth of such sage pronouncements as:  It is was it is.  And it was.  Done and done.

Now I need to get back up to the studio and finish putting all that art together, and tell some more stories through my images.  And write some, too.  Time to move on, and see what’s next around the bend.  And stand up tall and straight, (even if I can’t straighten that one arm), and go on to my dreams, and my responsibilities – proudly and without whining.  Happily so.  It’s been some journey, getting from there to here, and gaining the perspective to see, really SEE, what was what, and what wasn’t .  I learned a lot, like myself more, and got a damned good dog out of the deal.  Good for us.

I’m back in that place where you actually realize how good it is to feel good.  Like when that headache finally stops.  My arm is still gimpy, but it’s started to crack and pop a little bit, in that good way, so I know the blocks are starting to give way to good movement.  Not only my body is feeling better, but my heart, too.  When my books were delivered this morning, while thanking the printer for a fabulous job, I had to stop to point out how beautiful the clouds were today.  And how nice to do business with a stand up guy who’s shortly to leave on a family vacation – all the family – and be looking forward to it.  There ARE some out there!

Soon I’ll be waking up in New Mexico, seeing old friends, making new ones, and be in my element in an art show.  I feel inspired and invigorated, and happy to be who and even where I am.  And even my crepe myrtle decided to bloom, after I’d about given up on it.  Life does indeed go on, and we might as well saddle up.  Let’s have a good ride, shall we?

Postscript before posting:  We saw a coyote on the walk tonight!  Better be watching out for that Trickster.


Summer Bummer

Posted in Uncategorized on July 7, 2010 by Queenie

So I was pontificating not so very long ago about such things as what the tide would bring in next.  Didn’t that sound so very uplifting and just a little dramatic maybe?  (After all, it was fodder drawn from the well of chick movie moments.)  Clue Reality, baby, here’s what the next tide brought me:  a broken elbow.  It was, in the parlance of what the ex and I would use, a Double D move, meaning a double dumbass moment of the first water.  But, and it’s a huge BUT…. here I sit…TYPING!  With both hands!  And after the last few days I consider that about as happily as Tom Hanks received those wings of a sail that the tide brought to him for his escape.  As lately as this morning I was one-finger pecking at the keys of this beast, unhappily noting my pitiful progress and how damn near impossible it was for a decent typist to communicate via this slow, cumbersome and mistake laden method.  Long minutes with not much content, with more time spent correcting than contributing.  I was still encased in the temporary but necessary cast that I received in the Urgent Care facility, and nothing would work to have my nimble fingers negotiate the keys.  I propped the whole L-shaped affair up on a box, raised the keyboard to match the altitude, but no go.  It was a makeshift arrangement, and too silly looking anyway – maybe even dangerous if my box had fallen over.  My protective cast lacked freedom for my fingers to find the right keys, and whole thing was precarious at best, so writing has been left to the winds.

And what did I do to deserve all this?  And right before a major art show, just to add insult, and not a little fear, to the injury? Walking the dogs in the Back 40, running from the rain, and it was just a happy little shower – that had been preceded by the most incredible rainbow that went all across the horizon in front of me.  Not even any lightning and thunder to make me make haste.  The whole event was stupid, as most accidents are.  I turned and ran with dog on leash, until my right foot caught on rocks and I propelled myself onto the ground, (running surely didn’t help the situation), and I slammed myself into the firmament, (in grinding slow motion, of course), having outstretched my left hand to break the fall.  I broke it, all right, and my elbow in the doing of it.  Didn’t lose that leash though.

Usually after I take a header I pick myself up and dust myself off and go on, not more than maybe a few scrapes to show for my DDA (double dumbass) moves, and no harm done.  I’ve always amazed myself that I can take a fall so well.  And so, well, my luck ran out this time.  It took a while to catch my breath and gather myself to rise, and things weren’t feeling so swell.  Lots of heat in my wrist, forearm, elbow and shoulder, plus the laceration on my palm from the rocks.  The whacks on both knees didn’t turn blue for a couple of days, hardly noticed at the time.

I stood and waggled fingers and rotated my hand and wrist, bent my elbow, moved everything around.  They all worked, but still, something wasn’t quite right.  I lumbered back into the house, walking around, walking walking walking, holding my arm, moving my arm, feeling worse by the minute, and then my elbow starting clicking when I rotated my arm, and then after a while I saw myself in the mirror with my arm frozen in an unnatural position, with no more movement or rotation or straightening, accompanied with an adequate amount of pain, thank you very much.  And so, off to emergency care, xrays, and what the hell is next.  They couldn’t even take my blood pressure – alarms and bells went off.  I might have been a just a mite overwrought.  I have to add that my care was done beyond regular hours after the nice people opened their shuttered doors to receive the likes of me after their closing time, and I was so grateful to have any sort of care and relief in my immediate proximity without having to drive my wounded self all the way into dreaded town to an ER.  And likely a thousand dollar bill.

You certainly deserve better entertainment than Guess What Happened To Me columns, so I will attempt to illuminate the whole mess with what has transpired with my Fall Down, Go Boom adventure.  After notifying my friends, they have rallied with commiseration and concern.  They have volunteered to help me load all the artstuff when I leave for the art show in two weeks.  Yes, I will be able to do the show, with the limitation that I can lift NOTHING.  Ye gads, I will be waited on, and can stand there and tell people to put this there, hang that there, move that over….. It will be very interesting.  Perhaps I will even manage Pity Sales.  Somehow it will all work out, and then I get to wait out the rest of the summer, with no kayaking, mind you, but I will be able to float and kick around in the water at least.  But the big news, for which I am most grateful, is NO SURGERY, no cast, no screws, no horrible result, no humongous medical bills, a good prognosis of healing, (unless I have plans to take up tennis), and I have the gift of reveling in the good wishes and freely offered HELP and love from my friends, and that, as they say, is Priceless.

And so I am left to ponder, (while I ponder a bit more on exactly how I am to cut mats), on the situations that are delivered to us, or that we have brought on to ourselves by way of our own behavior.  We are so very fragile after all, vulnerable to a moment’s whim, or poor decision.  I seem to think that there are bigger issues to consider here, (the doctor thought I might want to consider a Catastrophic Type Insurance Policy – I’ll be giving that some thought), and how we are so interconnected, and that we need to be there for each other.  I am blessing my friends, and so thankful and grateful to and for them that it is quite beyond words.  I’m a little more wary about asking What Next…….  I think I’ll just rest a bit, get those mats cut, and get the new stuff framed, and love my mother and my friends.  I’m not sure when I’ll walk the dogs again, but they are quite impatient.  They shouldn’t have to suffer their lack of exercise and wonders of the Back 40 because I had a Double D moment.  I think I’ll be just a little more careful, and not run from a storm that wasn’t there anyway.  And to think, all this, from a girl who likes to walk in the rain.  How weird is that?