This blog started one year ago as "California 2015." It is now one year later and life and death have taken on entirely new meanings for me. I find it worth writing about.
If you read any of the earlier posts you'd not be surprised that I would want to do that California camping trip again. I had a glorious time. And when it came time to choose a vacation time for the calendar year 2016, I chose to go without much of a break for the first 9 months of the year, and splurge with another 2 week stint so I could go back and do more California wandering.
Things changed, though, in April and May. I began to have some symptoms that gradually grew big enough to make me seek medical help. It was a slow slow process and there were missed cues and clumsy diagnoses along the way. Ultimately, however, in the month of August the true picture emerged: I have pancreatic cancer and it has spread. My time is limited. I'm choosing not to go into a description of medical details or prognoses right now.
And that, right there, illustrates the primary lesson for me to absorb as I perch on this precipice:
HOW DO I WANT TO SPEND MY TIME?
Don't we always know life is short? We know it and yet we don't know it. Ordinary life and concerns occupy our days. But that truth is always there if we look straight at it.
I'm now looking straight at it.
My family is now looking straight at it.
Those who know and care for me are now looking straight at it.
The deaths of my parents four and three years ago pushed me to a greater awareness of the end of life, and since then I've heard myself saying more and more often: "Life is Short!! Life is too damned short!" My own aging is of course another reminder. It's natural to come to this understanding later in life. But I've suddenly been sling-shot into the realization that it's not just a pithy saying. It's real!
My body is truly under siege. I am doing all I can to slow down the damage but it's highly unlikely I can stop it.
My best choice is to live the best I can in the time I have. Period.
And that is true for anyone who reads this. No matter your state of health or how long you have ahead of you, your best choice is the same as mine. The difference is just that you may have reason to believe you have more leeway, more time to work in. And you might be right. I hope you are.
From livelier days, a birthday bash for one of the dancers in the crowd I hang out with. Hair flying, spirits soaring, reveling in music and the company of happy people. A good way to live!
The Lost Campers people were wonderful when I had to cancel my pre-paid trip. This year, I was so eager to wander California again that I reserved a van in February or March. As the October departure date approached, and the medical news got worse and worse, my sadness over losing that dream grew and grew but I shied away from taking definitive steps.
At last, I wrote Lost Campers a letter and explained. They were lovely: wrote back several messages not only assuring me they would refund my money, but sending me moral support and encouraging me to look forward to my next trip with them. I'll hold that. That is something to hold.
It is so good to find a commercial enterprise with a heart.
Not so simple with the airline tickets, of course. I now have an 8-page form to fill out in order to reclaim my ticket money from the flight insurance company!
It is still dark on this September Sunday morning at 6:30. Insect song has been coming through open windows all night and continues now. This house is surrounded in birdsong and insect song much of the time, day and night, a backdrop for my life that I take for granted. But like life itself, if I step back and look at it as the gift it is, suddenly it grows immense and I am stunned at how hugely fortunate I am. To be alive, to live in this place, to have these birds and insects and the family and people who are in my life and keeping me company. I earned none of it. I merit none of it. It is simply there and I am floored.
May I be as gracious and humble when put in the same situation. When I am, and as you point out we all will be, I will be reminded of your strength and that will surely strengthen me. This trip to California looks amazing and I am going to read the whole blog. I love this stuff! Well, all but this most recent post. No, I even love that. It is so wrong, but you are so right. I am sad, so sad, but so impressed. Love, James
ReplyDeleteJames, Go do your California, however you can. Whatever it is. It may take some planning, some time to get it in motion, but do the thing that fills you. And I'm not saying you are not already. Whatever fills you, whether it's what you do every day or it's something out there a bit on a limb somewhat out of reach, go inch toward it. Inch. Inch. And thanks for reading my words, that's what I've always hoped for. Someone to talk to, someone to respond. I love the interchange, and you are welcome here any time!
DeleteYour last word " Floored". I like it. It captures how I feel whenever I drag my head out of my selfish world and look at the real and beautiful world around me. It is a gift to be floored, I wish more humans had it, it would be a better world. Floored was also the emotion when Robin told us the news. What an unlikely circumstance, how unjust it seems. You have a very large measure of grace.your words are poignant, I think I can learn some timely lessons. We love you
ReplyDeleteI feel our grandfather's calm at times, and his acceptance of our place in the real (that is, the natural) world. It's an influence that comes from other sources as well, both in and out of our family, but I attach his face to it. I have a small scene in mind in which he is holding a small animal, possibly a bird, and letting us look at it. Did this really happen? Doesn't matter, what I feel is that the animal was content in his hand, sensed safety there. I never saw him in a flap, or a panic, although I did see him in pain once when he dropped an ax on his foot and had to lie on the couch in the living room for a bit to give it a rest. No complaining, just quiet endurance.
DeleteI mention this only to say that we share this ancestor and I think it has shaped me and I am curious to know if it strikes you that way, too. Floored comes from that place. Awe at the beauty of the world comes from there. Not that other people, other families, other circumstances couldn't lead us to it as well, but it feels like we inherited something. A stance in regard to the world, a point of view, a slant on things.
See what you think. And always, thanks for writing. For reading and writing and joining the conversation. Good stuff!
Floored and looking straight at it. Indeed. (some days, probably, one looks at it with a more crooked stance) Thank you for writing this. I really enjoyed reading the California trip. You have an admirable strength and sense of independence. Yes, to the love of birds and insects and dancing and life and....life IS too damn short. Sending you much love.
ReplyDeleteLike any bright light, it's no good to look at it straight for long. I sure don't recommend it! What helps, though, is to know that there are those who are willing to stand with me for a second as I am pretty much forced to at least glance at the cursed thing! I love you for standing there with me, Robin.
DeleteAnd now back to living, knitting, dancing, getting wet in the rain, wondering what to make for dinner, wishing the election were happening in some other universe, and noticing there's a new spider web out in the garden or up in a corner of the living room.