fiddlerventure

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Off to Uganda on a gorilla guest! 

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blood and windows

A blood draw today, to check thyroid hormone production, which of course is none, since my thyroid was removed two years ago because of thyroid cancer. And as I look out the window at the reflections on the water, I reflect on life before a thyroidectomy, and how my weight was stable and twenty pounds less and my skin was not dry and my energy levels normal. It is a cat dance to adjust hormone levels when the hormone-producing organ is removed and you must rely on oral medication.

Oral medication. Good for so many things, yet ALL DRUGS HAVE SIDE-AFFECTS. People randomly take drugs to eleviate medical conditions like blood pressure and cholesterol and heartburn and even sleeplessness instead of changing bad lifestyle habits. Got a problem? Go to the doctor for a prescription. 

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Helping...

...out by “adopting” two families from the US Virgin Islands. And sending money to the BVI’s via a GoFundMe site, and ‘sharing’ help sites on social media, and not whining about football players that kneel during the National anthem, and ignoring the biggest buffoon in four-hundred years to hold the office of Dear Leader. 

Small ways can make big changes. 

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So Much Right

Tried to set a right example with exercise, eating right, moderate drinking, obsessive outdoor activity, giving back to my community. Social priorities. I try new things. Enveloped with family. A helpful daughter. A supportive mother, devoted to my children. Strong work ethic. Diverse careers. Monogamous and love-filled marriage for 41 years. How did my son end up an alcoholic? It is hard not to blame yourself.

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Healing

I imagine a giant round ball of cake covered in choppy frosting and a blue spatula to smooth it, healing the world. Several strokes over the Caribbean, Mexico, North Korea, the Middle East, the U.S. Maybe a dollop out of Washington D.C.

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Five Minutes of Thinking

That’s all it takes, yet I am so derailed. I need a cup of coffee. I need to check my Amex bill. Brush my hair. Pull on socks because my feet are cold. Turn on the radio. Turn of the radio. Check email. Send mom an email before I forget. Straighten up my desk. Straighten up my husband’s desk. Put on some chapstick because my lips are dry. Answer the phone. Look out the window. Scratch my head. Search for the muse. Is there nothing to say? What do I see that makes me soar?

My eyes are clouded by constant distractions. There is always a tiny crisis to confront. The alcoholic son. The lost phone. No hot water. Rain when you want the sun. Sun when you want the rain. Hurricanes and earthquakes. What do I see that makes me soar?

On my morning walk, I saw a muscovy duck in the midst of a flock of mallards. He seemed to be the kingpin of the flock. I noticed two mallards with white chests, like Mr. Muscovy. Integrated ducks. Different species co-creating and living in harmony. I watched them lift off the water and soar. 

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What Next?

I am controlled by a chronic eye disease. My eyes keep me from evening concerts and spending time with friends. I have flown about the country seeking new medical advice from famous doctors, and tried a plethora of prescription eye drops and oral drugs. My current endeavor was a seven-day juice fast, a way to detoxify my body and see if indeed there is some food causing an allergic reaction and inflammation. After seven days my eyes are no better. At all. 

So what next. Chronic pain sufferers rely on drugs or physical therapy, or some find relief with meditation or hot baths or even hypnotism. Or mind over matter. Maybe I should become a Christian Scientist. Tibetan monks have been able to control body temperature with their mind. Some people can slow their heart beat with their mind. Does the mind control the body or the body the mind? 

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Boots

New hiking boots today. High top, vibrant-soles, waterproof, made-in-Oregon Danner's to take me to see the gorillas in Uganda next month. These boots are made for walking!

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What I Like:

Reading. Silence. Swimming in the ocean. Swimming. Adventures. Bicycling. Playing with my grandsons. What I don't like to do because it is hard: Writing. Practicing fiddle. Practicing. Riding my bike for hundreds of miles. Sailing across oceans. Do what you don't like to do often enough and you learn to like it. Practicing makes perfect. Or more realistically, practice makes things easy. Or easier, at least and I like to do things that are easy.

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Starting Over

I have been knitting on the same pair of socks for...a few years now. The problem with socks is when you finish one you are only half finished. And you must begin all over again, unless you have only one foot. And starting over again is hard. It is always the starting that stops us. But I am almost done. I have only two inches left to knit on sock number two. I suppose I will start another pair when I am finished. I am on day four of a seven-day juice fast. Trying to clean out, reset, start over. And begin again.

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Hurricane

My three sons played Monopoly when they were young. My oldest son, who died at 30, had a unique strategy to end a game. If he was loosing, he would sometimes make the “hurricane move” by hollering, “Hurricane move!” and then create disaster by shuffling all of the pieces on the board with his hand. End game.  

I am wishing now for younger years when a hurricane was a board game move to end a game.

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Ridgeline. Routine is the enemy of time.

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Clean water. Glacier National Park, Montana.

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Practicing.

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Stillwater Landing

And house concerts. This guy here in Montana has this airplane hangar on Stillwater Lake and he has lots of connections with musicians in Nashville and he puts on free concerts in his hangar. Guitar and accordion and original songs and still water and wooded trees and bring your own food and beer and sit and listen or paddle on the lake or fly in or out. Idyllic. Montana.

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Glacier Park fire and Lights.

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Syzygy

A word for the day. Syzygy. It means the perfect alignment of the earth, moon, and sun. Alignment. Like when the tree fell in a storm on the father driving the car at Seward Park in Seattle. Like the snow bomb that fell on Don Hanson at Scottish Lakes High Camp, as he tapped a nail into a final trail-marking sign. Like a lottery ticket winner. Like the grand slam 22-year-old rookie Jeff Francoeur hit at a baseball game in Atlanta. Like landing on the moon.

What will be in perfect alignment, besides the moon, earth and sun at the ecliptic moment where I will be in Idaho on August 21st?