unexpected gifts

It was not how I expected it to be. It was violent and intrusive and painful. I had to do that awful thing you do when something terrible is happening to your body that you cannot stop - turn your head the other way and pretend it's not happening. Squeeze your eyes shut and focus on a dirt smudge on the wall, force your mind to think something else. Only a few times it's happened in my life, but this was one of them. At first I tried to let myself be very present. Breathe deeply and closed my eyes, relaxing. But it didn't happen. My bubble of white light surrounding me burst and I left trembling. My breast is bandaged, bleeding and bruised. The machine was like a rifle and also like a staple gun (in sound too as it punched and pulled tissue samples from my tender little breast). It was a large needle biopsy rather than small. It looked frickin massive though, like a war machine. I am a total wimp, that much is obvious, faced with hospitals. They say I might have a permanent milk leak from the site of incision. That a channel created this way often will not heal. I feel kind of violated in a way I didn't imagine this sort of procedure would make me feel. Are all hospital dealings destined to leave me feeling this way? Do they for everyone? I can't think of one that has done anything other. I have to go back in a week or so for the results, what a bastard. In the meantime I will nurse my sore sad looking little breast with st johns wort oil and be thankful I have one to nurse. I will drink darkest night and pungent nettle and be thankful again for it's nourishing.











I still think/feel the lump is benign. Which makes me feel more that I have let myself down to be handled this way. But what other option was there to be made this day? It's done and over. I have a headache. And a breast-ache. I am hopeful that today can be calm, but my children do bounce so. I feel a deep deep need to rest. Mind and body. A bone aching need for solitude of some sort and peace. My days seem so filled with hustle and tumble and bustle and while it's all so lovely to have children marvelling at the world, and being part of their ongoing adventure, I don't feel much space for myself to just be, well myself. I often wonder if this is why I read so much - to loose myself in the lives and businesses of others. To escape? If so I welcome it.











The snow is as greedy as ever and hungrily devours the landscape, hiding all that is usually clear and visible. Being so empty I feel I shall soon be filled and bountiful enough again to want to fill others. For now I am not, I am interested in this new place and am taking time to look around the bleakness and waiting to (re)discover riches and warmth again. It will come. I am sure. As sure as the coming of Spring always follows Winter and the blanket that covers everything so entirely lifts away.



I did take time outside alone last night. I was clad head to two (ironically) not in wolf clothing but sheepskin. The slaughtered rather than the huntress, ha. I walked under a lightened dark sky, alone in the snow and broke of branches of pine to decorate the house with. I snipped the tinniest miniature snowflakes indoors of sharp precision. I can see, even in the clouds. Whatever is - is whatever is. All is, and therefore is fine. Everything brings gifts. This season I am learning that. What gifts and insights can this new thing bring me? What can I learn about myself? What does it reflect? How can it lead to more joy and lightness? What can I change to meet these new needs? These are all good questions for me. In order to give I must let myself receive and be filled. I really feel that the universe gives us exactly what we need. Whatever these things are enrich us in ways we need in order to become who we must (horrible, violent or emotional, upsetting, tragic, depressing) hidden or not so, meanings and gifts are there for the taking. Mostly I am finding that I need to see and find joy in the little things. Because the little things all add together to create the whole and then joy is in all places. Depression and despair and emptiness might be the turning points towards radical transformation. Who knows. I feel it's true.