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
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