Wednesday, July 18, 2012


Thankfully, through out my father's health crisis I've been able to sleep.  Most nights I pass out after reading only a few pages of EAST OF EDEN which does not bode well for finishing the novel any time soon.  For the most part I've remained calm and clear, and yet when I stir during the night and adjust my eyes to the inky night, a clot of panic catches in my throat.  I think of my father awaking in a similar darkness, the moments when consciousness takes over and he realizes he's in a hospital bed too ill to get up and pee on his own.  I wonder what it's like to experience this portion of the journey, the end of the opus with no time for edits, just analysis. 

I ended a day of meetings with an early evening hike.  I've missed my trail, the spectacular views, grasses blowing in the breeze.  The storm clouds provided a dramatic night scape, and a warmer than usual temperature.  At the lake the sky was smudged in pink, orange and blue.  Absolutely brilliant.  Heaven on earth. Not surprisingly, recent circumstances have made me contemplate my own mortality.  I can get stuck focusing on how much of my life is over, and the improbability of certain experiences due to choices, and age.  Spending weeks amidst the ill has forced me to embrace how much life I still have to live.  I hear Mary Oliver asking, "Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”

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