Medical Marijuana

Oh, how I long to be a cannabis oil success story. I have my card! But, the medicine is very expensive. I have budgeted for my healing, and am trying to find the combination of healing products that will help me. In NYS, the 23rd state in the union to legalize medical marijuana, the program is very restrictive on the ailments that can obtain medical marijuana at the dispensaries. Similarly, the way to imbibe the products, as well as what is offered is limited.

There are 3 levels of THC to CBD oil concentrations. The high THC one is called Forte- it’s very nice, helps alleviate pain! The equal parts THC and CBD is called Balance. It is very good at releaving  stiffness and spasms in my calves. the low THC to CBD is called Dolce. (I’ve not tried this one- but I do find it interesting that in order for the CBD oil to be effective, the product does need to have some THC in it!) That is like the “whole plant” advocates, who feel the medicinal qualities of cannabis are best experienced through having all of the elements of the plant involved.

I would have gone to the dispensary today, but my son really didn’t want to, and short of bribing him with an ice cream, I decided I’d go this weekend, when he is out of town w/ his dad/ my estranged husband. In the last blog, that I reposted, I was grateful for partnership. But here I am, single parenting, because life is not a fairy tale. Our little boy is starting a new path this school year, at public school.

I am a Waldorf Early childhood educator. I did my training as a young woman in my early twenties. I also taught for 13 years- until the MS made it too difficult to meet the children’s needs. This is a big change for both of us, My older son had 3 more years of Waldorf, before he too transferred into public school. The transition from Waldorf early childhood (N & K), to public school first grade may be extreme. Not bad, nor too challenging, just ahead in academics (before, he got none.) I am so grateful for what he did gain! A freer childhood, with outdoor play, crafts, rhythm, and community as focus. But he is learning to read at home. Only yesterday, as we were driving in a much less liberal town than the one we hail from, he read his first sign! He said, “Mama, that says Trump!” Can never forget the election of 2016!

On that adventure, we swam in salt water in the rain! As above,so below. And today, it is so crisp out, that one can feel this other transition, heralding in new. And though the humidity is much less, and the temperature has gotten much cooler, my hampered walking/mobility/ equilibrium/shooting shoulder pain dis-ability might be worse? (or the same, which could have still had improvement.) Here is what’s happening- my right foot is dragging. Where as before I felt that wearing a foot brace was re-training my leg how to walk again- from body memory and the assistance, now I feel I need to be wearing it all the time. Which is good, because it is helping, but I certainly don’t want to become reliant on it. This is a custom made brace, fitted to my leg’s specifications, exactly.

I have been practicing incorporating the pain of my shoulder, in my movements. I’m striving to integrate the  hot sensation (see previous blog post: ‘Ability’) I must say, that the sensation is at times, overwhelming! But again, I am grateful for the medical marijuana for alleviating some of the discomfort.

 

The Day the Yellow  Died

Something shifted in me

When I found the light body, of the Monarch butterfly

Lying perfect in the garden

I put it in a silk, beaded box

He found an empty chrysalis in the grass under the swing set

What are the chances they are from the same life?

I heard the call of the wild turkey

Or a hunter’s turkey call, more likely

Andfound the deer slain by the road

She had been eating our carrot tops

So from the near frozen ground

We pulled, and then cooked the sweet roots as a tribute

The yellow pony died of old age, she was 45

The Healing Path

Repost: Tumblr, Mindfulness MS

“It’s heroic, what you do,” he says as I am cooking turkey meat balls, from Jacks Meats and Swiss chard from the garden. It feels good to be seen by my partner, but tears through my denial. M.S. is a struggle.

Household tasks that might take anyone a short time, are monumental for me. Folding a shirt with only my left hand, cutting- moving the knife from one hand to the other- to see which one is more efficient.

17 years with this dis-ease, and I’m tired by the evening, so why do I sometimes push myself?) I have enough energy to make a meal, do bedtime with Lev, practice simple yoga and the exercises I learned inphysical therapy, and a second wind will allow me to enjoy time together with my husband. I see that Imust continue taking care of myself with the tools I have:

For best health, it seems I should do the M.S. diet as per Dr. Terry Wahls prescription for healing, and I will, soon… but there was a farm, community dinner last night. Mexican lasagna with tomatilla sauce(that me and the boys shucked and cut), home-made whipped cream on Hudson Valley grown freshbaked apples! Shall that be my last supper of eating wheat? Tomorrow give up dairy? I so try to stay away from dairy, also because I have a food allergy to it, and it brings me pain, and I get bloated. I have almond milk in my morning granola and coconut milk ice cream. But I have cow milk in my coffee (and coffee) daily. I think I’ll go back to raw milk, as the only other cream that mixes in well is camel milk, and I can’t afford those riches. Sugar is also a substance I’m advised to give up. But I’m a dip your toe in thewater and acclimate kind of person- so for now wheat and most dairy will have to do.

Diet and exercise go hand and hand. I’ve written in these blog posts about my commitment to working out my body at the gym. I also walk down to the stream regularly. Listening to the music of the wate watching Lev’s joy and ability, we marvel at the young tree that has pushed its way through the rock, alongside the path. I wonder at what is the splitting point.

Tonight begins my mother’s 18th  yartzeit (anniversary of death). I’ve been given the directive to reflect on which ways her vibrant self fills me.

How do I remember thee, mommy?

Beauty, first and foremost on the outside, and in. A love of writing poetry. A great mom (a lofty but well deserved accolade), quick to laughter, a beautiful smile that lights others up. A warm heart…

Rudolf Steiner indicates that when a person crosses the threshold of death, they must shed all of their earthly talents and gifts. We who are open to receive, make a good target.

I stand under Abundance maple tree as the leaves rain down in the autumn wind. An old Jewish teaching says that G-d’s finger guides the path of every falling leaf. What this teaches is, such is the way for every human being. Take Heart! We are not in this alone, we are accompanied, and our lives are a living conversation with a responsive universe!

It is windy. Branches are falling. Birds are calling out. Trucks are roaring up the road. Katy is purring. And, as I said, I am tired, but I’ve done errands in town, brought in firewood, harvested in the garden, prepared dinner, and even made time to write! I look forward to snuggling up to my nighttime dreams.

(I’ll explore the importance to dream work to me more fully in future posts), Lila Tov.

Autumn poet-tree:

 

Just Caterpillar

Forget about the one-day transformation

The ability for emergence in flight

The nectar eating, egg laying, flutter-breezing freedom!

You, in all your fuzzy potential

With nowhere to go

Crunching leaves, and crawling belly-down

Are just caterpillar

by, Yiskah Koock

 

 

Water, earth, wind, fire

Repost from tumblr: Mindfulness MS

The heavenly blue morning glories that graced our garden for so long; blossoms big as the child’s hand at their peak, have died with the first frost, leaving but a brown, tangly reminder.

In 1995, 25 years old, and though long realized (9 years of remissions and recurrences), the grief I experienced when my mother died was overwhelming, more than I could handle- though handle it I did, and thus started my MS journey. Grief was my trigger for an illness I was hereditarily and karmically destined for

I’ve been engaging in dream work- keeping a dream journal since I was in my late teens, and exploring dreams in groups since I was in my mid-twenties. I don’t always remember my dreams because I have a three and a half year old who wakes up with me, but also because I enjoy ‘medical marijuana’ which I feel is unparalled for stiffness and tremors, and helpful with pain. But the jury’s still out on how good it is for balance, and not so good for memory.

So, these days dreams are a real treat to me, and instruct me loudly. Torsos have made an appearance lately. It’s changed the way I walk, my posture maybe, and my awareness of my body. As I’ve written, I work out thrice weekly at the gym. I’ve been doing this for a year and a half. It is an activity I enjoy but falls short in replacing hiking. It is from strengthening my core that I know I can hold up my body. Wobbly as my legs may be, trees teach that a strong center can weather any storm.

My other healing modalities of late are Water! Lately, my fluid intake is minimal- two even one glass of water each day. But every health advisor- either in person or by the written word- advocates for drinking more, more, more! 8 glasses a day. So, I have very recently started trying to do just this. (Excuse me while I take this opportunity to hydrate.) I look forward to seeing if this is helpful and healing.

These days, mantra brings me closer to the Divine. Chanting keeps me present in the moment. I’ve been saying/singing, “Manorah ha makom ha zeh…” in Shefa Gold’s melody. These are the words Jacob speaks on the night he wrestles with the angel. “G-d was in this place and I did not know it.” Transpose ‘G-d’ to any life giving, awe-inspiring affirmation. I did not open myself up to the divine guidance in this moment.

And the other thing on my mind a lot of late is the beginning of the fire building season, I’m anticipating getting splinters in my hands from the wood stove all winter long! I’ve heated with wood for over 20 years now (from the wilds of New Mexico, the mountains of Colorado, Lake country in N.J, bear country in Mass., and now (home for 16 years, the Mid-Hudson Valley of New York State.) Fire warms, soothes, occasionally gives messages (see previous post), and is so very messy! The autumn wind keeps blowing the doors open and the sun is streaming in the kitchen windows. As a younger woman, I learned that life is like a river. Your past is that which flows away from you, your future is that which flows towards you, and you are standing in the water.

And so I walk to the stream on the side of our house. It is my physical therapy. Drop foot, walking stick, and balance issues aside, I am setting myself the goal of walking in an M.S. walk on May 4, 2014. By that time, in my sterling imagination, I should be capable, competent, healed of all mobility issues and this illness that manages to challenge me immensely. The terrain is uneven, rocky. The fallen leaves have make it slippery and slick, but the water is cool, flowing from yesterday’s rains, and musical, and here stand I. HiNeni

 

Twilight

The sun crosses the sky, earth rolls away from the sun

Like tulips openning and closing in day and dark

I open and close

Because she is so impersonal, ama d’a alah, the Great Mother

Through her fire, she renews the garment world each night

I breathe in, she breathes out

Grasping the copper vessel from my hands

Like a shadow-fox

Slipping between sound, and the smell of spilt ceremony tea

She is the Queen in the field, lighting the altar candle

A yellow warbler flies in the temple window

A stone heart lays hidden in the soft moss

Growing stars, and florets, and clover

The blue- expansive sky

The illuminating, deeply familiar dream of the black spider

In this place, in a velvet chair, in her infernal grace

The wakeful world has presence

I sit in her door way, the mouth covered with leaves

Trees in the wind creak- like an openning door

by, Yiskah Koock

 

Wounded Dreamer

Repost from Tumbler blog: Mindfulness MS

There is a word in Sanskrit, ‘amorock’, that means the wounded healer. This archetype that Carl Jung wrote about has been extrapolated by his student, “to be at home in the darkness of suffering and there to find (gems) of light and recovery with which, as though by enchantment, to bring forth Asclepius, the sun like healer.”  Asklepious himself, is a dream healer of Ancient Greece.

And tonight we light the first candle to remember and honor Chanukah. Recovery next? We can always aim for healing. I blew my top today- not at anyone, but just yelled in frustration in general. It felt good, emptying, but still a bit like defeat. I am striving to meet life’s challenges with more equilibrium. I see this illness is teaching me balance, too. What else? Compassion for others who suffer, empathy for those who are living a challenging journey. Prayers, blessings, well-wishings for those who might need them, presence with self in this moment. Tired though I be, the end of the evening is in sight.

It is Thanksgiving time. I feel we should be thankful at all times, even for our struggles. It is not always easy. The physical body offers more challenges, and more lessons, than we would otherwise be able to accrue There is no place like the Earth in this multi-verse (as dream teacher, Robert Moss calls it.)

To witness extreme generosity (of time and talent) at the Repair Café of New Paltz, was heartening, where people volunteered to brighten the day of strangers and neighbors. The turtle lamp lives on, my favorite black cotton sack has 2 connected straps again, and the tear Levi made in the upholstered couch cushion is mended. Then, I am called forth to ‘pay it forward.’ By being our best selves, we encourage our best selves to shine forth. This, the month of gratitude. I’ve never taken on the practice of stating a reason for being thankful each day of November, but I love to read people’s posts, and I do strive to be grateful always.

It is quite amazing how far one can go out on a limb, and have it not crack! I wrote of ‘the breaking point’ in a previous post. When the tree pushes through the rock on the shale beach, and grows towards the sun. Is that what we can expect? Soldier through your life, courageous and inspired, and rise in the light- hopefully, within this lifetime. I used to say about life that I am on the accelerated path. But I didn’t then know what was in store. The long illness and much too early passing of my mom, the illness my grief would allow into my brain and body.  I would hike in the amethyst mine behind my house in the Rocky mountains of Colorado after my mother’s death and wish to be struck by lightning- an act of G-d that would end my suffering. Instead of ending my suffering, it opened a door to walk through- the optic neuritis was my first symptom on this journey of MS. But I know that even if we cannot consciously choose our hurdles, we can decide what attitude to bring into our stride. Positive thinking is key! Kindness, for self and other, bravery and faith. Similar to lucid dreaming, though we are not choosing the images, symbols, nor story line, we do respond, awake in the dream time! I can choose to gallop my dream horse, lance in hand to slay the dragon that has been terrorizing the village and claim the virgin bride.

I can choose to see illness as a path of learning and dance, and I write poetry from the images of dream. As my teacher Robin Larsen says, these are the ”gifts from the land of dream”.

The Dance

In elegant elipses, he leads me                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          With a sturdy arm, an upright spine, a graceful gait                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      Gently to the pianist’s evocation of beauty                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           He is dying, and I am dying, he is accepting, and I am resigned                                                                                                                                                                                                                         The parquayed floor is round- and diners clink their glasses                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  At the dance, we are very much alive]

by, Yiskah Koock

Wind is sailing through the branches and last leaves of the trees. The bright moon wanes , and ever an honor to chart the passing of time by. I had my first appointment with my new neurologist today. Off to a very positive start! He’s affirming of how I treat this illness, has great energy and is positive about the healing potential that can grace this situation. I feel hopeful- and that, I think is the greatest thing a doctor can give to a patient. My previous neurologist said to me, “If you are not going to follow my advice on what medicine you should be on, what do you need from me?” I answered, “Moral support.” That is what I received today, and for this too, I am Thankful.

Mindfulness MS

Repost from Tumblr- Mindfulness MS, this blogging starts here:

“Do you read a lot about MS?” “ No”, I answered. “I just buy the books but never read them.” “What about mindfulness and multiple sclerosis?” Well, I haven’t yet written that!

But I’m living it. 17 years now- and surprised it hasn’t spontaneously healed. (My faith is that strong.) Still more to learn, I see: about gratitude, the suffering of others, balance, generosity, acceptance, gratitude (yeah, I said that already.)

Following the advice of a friend, my credo is to work out hard, love fully (strive for unconditionality), find the joy, make love enthusiastically and often, and live a creative life.

Some days (today!) I walk with equilibrium, capability, confidence. Some days I walk with a stick (olive wood that a friend found floating in a river in Greece!) A boy at the Dutchess County fair said “Nice staff” just yesterday. Where is the break in connection? Right ankle, knee, hip? My whole right side is compromised. Though right is my dominant side, I now eat, cut vegetables and with scissors, and even write with my left hand. My signature looks equally messy with either- thankfully, I go to a small neighborhood bank.

Like the plants growing in our garden, weather definitely has a great deal to do with it. Hot is hard. Humidity is trying. Cool is a breath of fresh air! Me and the lettuces.

I do wish my energy level for day-to-day tasks was higher. I also hope that we all learn not to take any ability for granted. I do wish I could spin my 3 ½ year old around at music class. But I’m glad for his strong little child hand in mine to steady me, and his contagious joy in all things experienced through his child self!

Mobility has only been an issue for me these past 4 years. Before then, exacerbations came with frequency: fatigue, itchy and numb skin; loss of hearing; optic neuritis- and fully behind the veil of sight, double optic neuritis; facial palsy; temperature regulation difficulty; pain… And thankfully, these symptoms passed within eight weeks. I am being followed by a Moonshadow.

I’ve been taking Low Dose Naltraxone (LDN) as a disease modifier, and though the MRI does not show more plaque on the brain, or disease development, perhaps there has been progression? But I believe that right living can only be an asset to me, and I will stay the path of healing!

I just tell myself that I have body memory of how to walk with strength and balance, and I try to tap into that. And now to the garden to be under the open sky and pick and eat ripe cherry tomatoes!

 

 

Living In It

Low flying crow over my southbound car

Graying preying mantis steps across the threshold of my front door, as I open it from inside.

We find a perfect wild turkey feather just before the season opens

and a tiny, tall magenta mushroom, living under a wet fallen leaf

These are the days for blue jays in the compost pile

quick moving clouds in the wind, and a half moon visable in the noontime sky

its shadow, Autumn clarity

Slow reaching sun, chiding squirrels in transitioning trees

We’re noticing the earlier evenings, and we continue

by, Yiskah Koock

Ability

MF MS 10

It starts like an electric shock boring into my right shoulder, like a bolt of lightning! The pain is intense, electrifying! And then it passes, washing over me like a hot rushing wave. Like a chilling release. I bear it bare it, grit my teeth, brace myself. Or I rub my right shoulder vigorously, and thanks to my dear friend / spiritual advisor,  I know to move my arm more, move my body, be as water.

Now it’s the time of the 2016 Summer Olympics in Rio. I haven’t been watching it, but when I do see a news brief, or a link to an article on the phone , I really want to pause and look at, and honor the strength of the athletes, the balance, grace, and grit, of those  who are competing. The Best of the Best. Ability, not dis-abled (very disempowering word.) I think maybe I should pay more attention to the Special Olympics, and not allow, “I can’t” in the door. I think I can, I think I can. Whenever I’m at the gym on the elliptical and see the Olympics on the TV before me (or any sports, for that matter) , I feel re-ignited to push myself more, because I must!

MS (emmes) means truth in Hebrew. I limp down the hall, lose my balance, drop glasses, and I can no longer type or write, eat or cut with my once dominant right hand. So I really feel the MS has evolved from RR MS, Relapsing Remitting, to Secondary Progressive MS. Whereas, I used to have such severe symptoms such as optic neuritis, seeing through an icy veil, losing the hearing in my right ear, losing the feeling in my hands and feet and torso, as well as other skin stuff -tingling and the’ phantom itch traveling around my arms, hands, collar bone, and back, the side of my face palseying, holding a grimace, to dizzying vertigo when I move my head too quickly, and the debilitating fatigue that sometimes accompanies me. Each of these symptoms would last six to eight weeks, and then mostly abate. It was a really hard road to travel, those first 15 years.. But now, I don’t seem to get those exacerbations, thank goodness, though my walking is compromised. I walk with a wooden walking stick, a ‘staff’, as it has been named, or a purple aluminum cane. And now, I wear my groovy new custom made, foot and ankle brace. Made to my body’s very specifications!

Oh, but did I used to walk! I was a hiker! I’ve hiked in the Wilds of the Colorado Rocky Mountains, California forests, and by the seas- both Pacific and Atlantic. New England forests, New Mexico mountains, the Hudson Valley woodlands, many many many walks. It was on these  hikes that I would write, speak, and memorize poetry. That was my time to cleave to the divine- devetkut hashem. Cry out to God, converse with the universe- so, God time, creativity time, physical activity time, inspiration time. I was once called, “Pride Walker”, by a master of movement and drama. Now that is a name I am glad to be called!

My neurologist will not change my MS designation from RRMS to Secondary Progressive MS. This is likely because the health insurance companies will refuse to pay for the medications with that title of disease. So tell me, what is a person with secondary progressive MS supposed to do then?
Again, left to the universe , I need to ask myself, is my faith so strong that I truly know that God will heal me? Or rather, through my body, G-d can shine G-d’s healing light. Send your emissaries, Most High one- mayachorai Raphael! I’ve put the healing Hebrew words to a lovely Lakota melody:  Ana Elna R’fanala- rfua  sh’layma. (a complete and total healing- body, soul, and spirit.

I’ve felt that these past twenty years of illness, and from earliest sensation and memory , of the body’s indelible art of being an instruments of the divine, and I also know that I need to take an active role in my own healing. so I work out at the gym, and I try to eat well, though I’m not on any particular diet: raw, vegetarian, gluten free, dairy free or otherwise. And I know, that my body has the innate ability to heal itself from any imbalance. So now, I’m doing the ondamed machine, ever grateful to the healers who are offering this to me. Ondamed. Is a biofeedback machine that tansmits electro-magnetic energy to my body, in the hopes that that will trigger such a reaction in myself that will bring about healing!

Here I am, ‘Hineni’, still hopeful, still believing, but I’m not really waiting- I’m just living, and sometimes I’m damned frustrated- . Still I’m smiling. As I sometimes say, I’m grateful even for the challenges. Every morning, when we thank G-d for restoring our soul to our body, we say, “abundant is your faithfulness.” “Raba Emunahtecha!” If G-d has faith in me, then shouldn’t I have faith in my body’s ability to heal!

 

Thank the Path

Hiking the back woods, an odd thing happened.I realized, that though I’ve walked these paths a thousand times before-Nothing looked familiar, and though I knew where I must be, I had no idea where I was.Maybe I was seeing with new eyes, as was suggested, but I think that everything- bush, tree, flower, stone, was not the same as it had ever been before! All was changed, an is continuously changing- as am I, as are you! This is not the same rose your father gave you at graduation, or that you carried down the aisle in your sister’s wedding, or that blossomed on the bedside, filling the room with its essence, the morning you mother passed away.

This rose presents itself to you! Touch its gentle petals, breathe deeply its life scent, see this loiving being burning in its divinity! I thank G-d, who illuminates my path. Those who hold me up along the sometimes overgrown and convoluted way. And the very path itself! The decomposing leaves pressed in mud, the bright orange eft scurrying away from dtopping acorns, the tiny spotted toad leaping onto my hand, and off again. The mushrooms that open as flowers, and the flowers that turn to sticky burrs. All this is new, and now, and me- honored here.

by, Yiskah Koock