Day: December 10, 2012

I needed some Spring medicine today, some bright color, backlit by the sun. It is good and honest medicine, and I hope it will brighten your day as it has brightened mine.

Rosie died last December after a long and wasting illness. I do understand that the script calls for some tears and grief, but I left the script a long time ago, and am not in need of it now. We are conditioned, expected in our culture to look at loss in a particular way, but Rose transcended those expectations, and I mostly feel gratitude for my time with her. It was important, gave me some breathing room when I desperately needed it. Rose was what the shamans call a guide animal, she came to help me get through a particular time in my life, and when she was done with her work, and it was completed, she found a way to leave, as spirit dogs always do.

I look at this photo and I feel great joy. For this is my wish for her, it is my dreams of her. That she run in golden fields, stretching beyond the horizon, a world without fences, or the demands and distractions of troubled and selfish humans, who so often live hollow lives and do not run in golden fields even when they can, but instead pursue money, argue with one another and live amidst many real and manufactured fears.

Rosie is free of all that, and she can run as far and long and wide as she likes. May there always be sheep, and fields stretching to eternity and may the wind always be behind her, pushing her ahead. That is all I ever wanted for her, and I feel certain that is what she has found for herself.

Frieda can get into more trouble crossing the yard than most dogs get into in a year. I remembered today why I named her the “Helldog,” she can look at the camera and melt your heart, but this dog is a handful. I decided to take her out with me to close up the chicken coop – she is usually confined to a road or on a leash as this house is too close to a road to risk one of her spectacular breakouts. She took off after Minnie and chased her into the barn, then veered off to the North and went after the chickens. Cats and poultry were scattering in every direction and I anticipated her, headed her off and got  her into a lie down.

Frieda is a force of nature, explosive, incorruptible, incorrigible. No harm was done, and I have to confess I am glad her spirit hasn’t been taken away from her. She is dozing sweetly by my feet.

A doctor once told me I needed to take pills to keep my cholesterol down. Otherwise, I would likely die a horrible death, a heart attack or a stroke. No thanks, I said, I will learn how to eat well and my food will be my medicine.

A doctor told me I ought to test my blood sugar often, and take medicine to keep it low. Or high. Otherwise, he said, you will die an awful death, a heart attack or stroke, most likely. I said no thanks, I will learn about nutrition and keep my own blood sugar low, and eat good and healthy things, and my food will be my medicine.

A doctor told me I was getting older, and should take prostate medication. He said he recommended some experimental medication that would help the prostate, and it had a few side affects – I might grow breasts and talk like a girl. He said otherwise, I might die an awful death, cancer maybe, or worse. I said no thanks, I would look for teas and herbs that strengthened the prostate and kept me healthy.

And when I told another doctor I was falling in love, he winked and took some pills out of his draw and said “when you feel like having a little fun, take one of these.” And I said no thanks, I would always find a way to make love if I needed to make love.

And that was some years ago, and I stopped seeing doctors and found some different ones. They do not sell me things and warn me about my life or predict horrid things if I make my own decisions about my health.  My horrible death has not yet come and perhaps when the time comes, I will have a good and peaceful death. I think it may be up to me in many ways. The truth is I am not having a perfect life, but I am having a pretty wonderful life, my blood sugar is good, my cholesterol is pretty low, I make love when I wish and I do not have any breasts.

Every morning, I look for some light and some color. I take my medicine.

I’m a warrior for light, and on these gray early winter mornings, there is no bright light, no real color that pops up. Maria looked at this misty morning, and said, “how beautiful,” and then she said good morning to the animals, who crowded around her to see if she had any treats or other things to tell and bring them. They seemed to me to bring news of the night. And I saw the beauty of natural colors, earth colors, without the distractions of yellow and green pasture and bright light and flowers. There is beauty everywhere if you can look for it.