Mother Moon and Susuwatari

I have had this summer the remarkable gift of both my windows at home and at the cottage facing the transversing moon. As I lay in bed and the moon appears I have taken to baring my breast and talking to Mother Moon, asking her to please draw these cancer cells from my body and give them a new home. As they are leaving my breast I picture the susuwatari (black dust sprites) from My Neighbor Totoro (if you have not seen, do so immediately and feed your inner child) as they leave Mai and her family’s home. They leave because they realize that Mai and her family are good people. It follows that I am a good person, so… Thank you Mother Moon.

Musings on Raindrops

A couple weeks ago Maggz and I went to the cottage for some quiet and beauty. I realized that I had forgotten my vape pen with thc and cbd oil that helps me sleep. Uh oh. Maggz exclaimed “No worries! You can smoke some of mine!” What a gal :). Now prior to this vape pen and in these my latter years, I had smoked the occasional weed. In general, I would end up laying on the floor with the kids laughing at me. So I steered away from that embarrassing posture. But I figured, I have been getting a little thc in my pen so maybe I have built up some tolerance, and I’ll already be in bed! So I tried it and it worked! Actually better than the vape had. AND I DREAMED! I hadn’t really realized that I hadn’t been dreaming much. I tend to wake up thinking about cancer, eat breakfast thinking about cancer, walk the dogs thinking… well, you get it. So it was lovely to dream and kinda remember it in the a.m.

So, the next night Maggz had gone home but left behind a little nug to take care of her mama. As I was laying in bed, high, waiting to sleep, it began to rain. There is nothing like listening to the rain on the roof of a cottage, as well as in the field next to my window. As I was listening I realized that every drop of rain has one chance to make a noise as it hits whatever it meets near or on the ground. And there are millions of drops during a storm, hitting leaves, grass, roads, houses, people, water, rocks. It occurred to me that I should witness as many of those sounds as I could, so I concentrated on the individual plops of rain, acknowledging their journey and the end of this particular stage before they enter the ground, get taken up by a plant, respired into the atmosphere, float up to the clouds, gather to make new droplets, and so on. And of course, being high (obviously) I made the connection that it’s all a metaphor for our journey (it seemed quite profound at the time, go figure) and it’s our job to witness and acknowledge as many of our fellow raindrops during our time here. So that’s what I am trying to remember and do these days. Consider yourself acknowledged, or pending acknowledgment.

The Loss of My Breasts

So, chemo is over and the impending loss of my breasts is becoming real. My breasts: they fed my babies (one of my favorite times in life), entertained some men (not as many as some of you gals back in the days of post free love, but a few), were a soft and absorbent pillow for family and friends in need of a cry, created a nice foil for the belly beneath as it variably grew and receded.

And, difficult though it may be to realize/read/hear, they are being amputated, lopped off like the legs of Civil War soldiers. My breasts. Some people have phantom breast syndrome, the brain saying “where’d you go?”. Where’d they go indeed. They will be put in a dish or a bag and sent to pathology where someone completely unknown to me or my breasts will search them for signs of susuwatari, not knowing that mother moon has already brought them home. Going to be a boring search for some lab rat, so there!

Shame and Regret

Not worthwhile. Acknowledge, bow, and move on.

People Brought to Me by IBC

New friendships and re-connections with old.

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