Be a lamp, or a lifeboat,
or a ladder. Help someone’s
soul heal. Walk out of your
house like a shepherd. —Djalal Ad-Din Rumi
What does it take for us to walk out of our houses like shepherds? And what if our “house” is our computer/smart phone – that space that swallows us, that dwelling without scent, taste or touch? I occupy that house as I write you. I wander from empty room to empty room. I can hear the real world calling. I know that I need to write the story of what I have learned about the American “health care” system during the last weeks of my recovery from an unnecessary devastation.
I know that I can be a lamp, a lifeboat, a ladder for someone ensnared in the profitable chaos of hospitals and health insurance. You might know the doubts that chime in: “Where will I get my words published?” “What good will writing the darker story do?” “How can my words change what seems to be immutable?”
I need to let the path into the internet fill with pine needles. To begin, I log off. Now.
From Elizabeth Maginnis: Some expert in such things declared that cold water therapy does wonders for fibromyalgia. It supposedly stimulates the lymphatic system to flush toxins and other nasty stuff out of the muscles, bringing about pain relief. I was skeptical. Having lived with fibromyalgia for over a decade, I’ve made peace with my limitations. Kicking and screaming all the way, maybe more of a truce than an all-out declaration of peace. Peace would be returning to the self who could run a mile in ten minutes or walk to the bus stop without needing a cane. The self who didn’t need a nap every day after lunch. The self who still enjoyed swimming in the back yard pool.
So, this morning I took my dogs out to the back for a potty break, as usual, and there was something about the pool water, so clear, so inviting. OK, the air was cool, the water temperature just as cool, but the sun was shining . . . The shimmering water lured me with its siren song. Why not? Why not test the theory? I won’t swim for long. Maybe five minutes.
Whoa! That first dive just about stopped my heart! But wait a minute, that wasn’t so bad. Let’s do it again and see. I don’t want to get out of the pool just yet! My body tingled with energy as I submerged and swam under the surface to the other side of the pool. Again. Again. Again. And again. Hey!
It’s three hours later, and my body still feels alive.