Meditating on Meditation

 Meditation is supposed to be a method for many things, Goal setting, stress reducing, creating mindfulness, just plain creating. As I said, Many things.

I once took a class in college about meditation. 

It was a strange experience for me. 

I followed the same directions as the rest of the class. 

Relax. Concentrate on your breathing, not thinking. Do not think.

As I did these things, I became aware of many things.

The swoosh-swoosh of my heart beating.

The whoosh whoosh of my breathing.

The scritch of my hair on my shirt when it moved.

The way my sleeves felt on my arms, and the marvel of the difference in the feel of material in my pants against my thighs.

And the swoosh and whoosh and scritch and the caresses were somehow without me-- outside of me. All part of an enormity. The wind was breath, the heartbeat was water constantly moving, and I was a cloud, being caressed by the sun and tickled by the wind.

And then the instructor recalled us all to ourselves and began a discussion about what had happened in our minds.

The other students spoke of doors opening and closing, of distant phones ringing, of people talking in other parts of the building, of classmates coughing, and someone whose breathing whistled , and someone else who kept clearing their throat.

They marveled over how clearly they heard these things, and I was sitting there thinking "But all you have to do for that stuff is to listen. That's not a special talent. Or is it?"

No wonder meditation wasn't working for me. I must have been doing it wrong.

Now, I know that there are different types of meditations,

I have learned that there are different paths of meditation that can take the participants to the same Place.

I have learned that the same meditation path can take people to different Places.

But then, I thought I was doing it wrong. 

I thought that meant there was no value for me in it. 

Even now, it is difficult for me to freely do it, without feeling or fearing wrong.

I have to take my own advice sometimes. 

Just listen.

Pay attention to what you hear.

And feel.

And see.

And while others may be stuck in the classroom in the world, I can be a cloud, a part of Nature's water cycle, whispered to and tickled, and caressed by the many factors of a Bigger Place.

And there's nothing wrong with that.

Soothing Saturday.

What a day this should be. It's cooled off outside -- I'm actually wearing a sweater. The sun is shining, the sky is blue, with fluffy white clouds. There's food in the fridge and the cabinets, and there's a busy little girl with her colors sprawled on my living room floor. She's the sunshine inside the house.

It's been a busy week, and a fairly normal one, I'd guess. A mixture of good and bad, a look at some beginnings and some endings. Scary stuff sometimes, those glimpses into the future.

The most fabulous and the most  frightening was Hailey's birthday party. She turned 4, and such a big girl. She had an "Urel' (Ariel) cake, with Sponge Bob and 'Packrit' added to it -- don't tell Disney, they'll sue us. She had a lot of grown up family there, and the one cousin that we can provide her. He's nearly twice her age at this point. She has another cousin, on the other side, but she's too little as yet for celebrating at a party. Hailey would have been glad to see her, though. She fell in love with that baby while they stayed at Hailey's house.Hailey is definitely wishing for a sibling. (What does a 4 year old know?)

Tam had thoughtfully had the party at a facility so her dad could attend. The August weather, in a good year, is hard for him to take. This year, with all the heat and humidity, it's been impossible.


And it very nearly killed him. Not from attending the party, but by leaving. We opened the door to the parking lot, and the parking lot had been baking in the sun all day and especially all evening while we were inside. It took his breath away.

I am being very literal, and I am not exaggerating. Sheer willpower kept that man on his feet to the car and once in the car, barking like a seal, he used his rescue inhaler and gestured for me to just DRIVE! I wanted to drive to the closest hospital, but he just kept waving for me to drive -- get the air moving, that's what he wanted.

It worked. After a couple miles, we pulled over and I hooked him up to his portable oxygen tank and he made it home and hasn't had too much trouble since, but it was a frightening portent of things to come.


A sad commentary on things that are, as well. We had been talking a bit about taking a trip in September or October. A weekend trip, one day going, one day coming back. We had discussed who might go with us (as alternate drivers), how he could use his nebulizer on the road, costs, etc. The nebulizer, we thought, would be the big issue.

It's not. He may have saved his travels "Later" until they've become "Too late." But that's okay.

I'll enjoy him as he is -- that's the best way to love anyone. I'll enjoy him, and our daughters, and our granddaughter and any siblings-for-her that will someday make an appearance.


To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose... .
A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance...
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;


For now we choose to laugh, and dance (metaphorically speaking), and we both speak and keep silence together. The time will come for the other stuff, but for now --


For now,  we DANCE.

bone crushing

My husband had to go to the doctor Monday. The office called him and made the appointment. You can bet that set off alarm bells. He has so many health concerns we didn't even know which one to worry about. They did say something about his spinal x-rays, but that really didn't narrow it down a whole lot. Because we have had things show up in x-rays that are not what he was being x-rayed for. An enlarged kidney showed up in chest x-rays.

We were referred to a urologist who saw Rex once, sent him for some kind of test at a hospital that had to have cash before doing anything, and we never heard from that specialist again. Don't know to this day what, if anything, the test determined, in spite of calling and both asking and leaving messages. When our family doctor bulldozed us into this appointment, she felt the matter was urgent. Then, she left the group practice she was with and has apparently fallen off the face of the earth. Could it be his kidneys?

He fractured his spine forty years ago, could it be something from that?

Did something in his lungs show up in the background?

He has osteoporosis. Well, he's had that for a while, but this is advancing, which means getting worse. We've been referred to another specialist, this one out of state. His spinal column is collapsing and disintegrating. The T1 through T4 vertabrae are crumbs, with 'significant wedging' on almost all the rest.

Our doctor, who is new to us, says he has never ever seen anyone with such an advanced case of osteoporosis.  Especially not so young. Especially not a male.

We discussed smoking, we discussed heredity, we discussed childhood malnutrition. All factors. But, to figure out what to do, he needs to be seen by an endocrinologist. My guess is that they are considering he'll need the IV type treatments. (He was on Fosamax but began having too much bone pain in his hips and thighs, and we dropped that stuff like it scalded.)

So, we're again hanging in Limbo, and I'm bouncing from wall-to-wall maybes.

I'm also looking for information on what to expect if the deterioration continues. What do I need to be especially watchful for? How can I help? What needs to be reported to the doctors? I don't know, I don't know, I don't know.

And I can't find out. There are a few  million definitions of osteoporosis available on the internet. There are a few million treatments being sold, or advised, or encouraged. So far, there has not been one site that answers my questions. Apparently everywhere on the Internet is the belief that calcium, vitamin D and the magic of medicine cures osteoporosis, or at least halts it in its tracks.

Therefore, no one needs to know what advanced severe osteoporosis will do to a middle-aged severely emphysemic man with one big kidney.

I really hate that all the different websites say the same things over and over and over. Sometimes in different languages, but still the same-old, same-old.

In this great Information Age, can no one answer my questions?

Natural Writing

I enjoy writing my blogs.

Of course, I like writing. It's as natural to me as breathing, and as necessary.

That's not a bad comparison. Over time, we sometimes have to train our breathing back to its easy, natural state. We begin to breathe more shallowly as soon as we begin to talk. We star gulping air into our stomachs instead of our lungs as soon as we begin to eat -- and that starts pretty soon. We hold our breath to get into clothes, we remodel our insides, squashing our lungs, cramping our diaphragm, to conform in our appearance.

Soon, we are no longer breathing naturally, although it is adequately for our survival. We go to doctors, we take exercise classes, we learn yoga. We do these things to get back to the natural and easy way of breathing.

Learning to breathe correctly is not easy, after years of doing it wrong and years of lazy breathing. It feels unnatural, to push out our stomachs as we breathe in. It's painful to fully expand the ribcage. It takes training, work, and lots of practice.
Aching muscles and sore abs and later on, we are improved by the improved oxygenation in our blood. We look better, we feel better, we are better.

It's not enough to breathe. We need to breathe correctly to be at our best.

This helps explain why a natural talent for writing isn't always enough. We may have the words flood and flow through our brains, tremble off our fingertips, but it just isn't enough. The words have to come out in proper order, in proper form, to be what they should be.

We need to write correctly to be at our best.

There are people who think that writing cannot be taught, that there is no need for training or practice.
There are people who think that the only good writing is easy writing.

Writing, they think, should be as natural as breathing.