I was surrounded by supportive love after my last posting about those Damn White Counts. While their verity presumably remains, my angst has shifted. What good is that going to do? I was able to share my frightened demeanor, feel supported and then.... breathe. Breathe more deeply. And look to other things to capture my attention, many of which remain painful and involve the messiness, even darkness of humanity. My soul is heavy with the suffering of some of my dear friends. My anger is stoked by life's sheer unfairness at times. God loves me bratty while I moan, wave my arms and sometimes holler loudly.
Sometimes I sit in a 12-Step meeting next to another cancer- ..... what are we? Sufferers? Survivors? It's almost a demeaning label, that - for we are so much more than warriors against that which wants to kill us. So much more. But we have that connection and it's a bond, even a small one. "You're looking great!" We say it to one another and mean it. We compare notes, drugs, lack of drugs, near-misses, and then gratitude for this day. I still haven't nailed the heights of present-moments consciousness but I remember sometimes to savor the goldfinches stuffing their faces at my bird feeders or knowing that, sluggish as it may be, I'm heading out soon for a 20-minute jog. Not an hour? It's oxygen and life, still.
This little seal reminds me of my inner lightheartedness and grace which even when veiled are never wholly banished from my life.