Catching the Sunset in a Bottle

Hey, where ya been?  (Know that you are not alone in asking that question.)

I asked myself that, on Friday.  Because I finally met myself this year.  Friday was the best I have felt through all of 2012, first pain free day.  (Which is only a big deal when you have chronic pain disease.) And the first time I ever learned about bottling sunsets.

Friday I took an intro course into holistic medicinal energy healing.  A good bit of it was hands on.  Perhaps that was why I felt so good. Maybe it was merely the absence of 'feeling bad' that felt so good.  Or it might have been knowing this was a course that wasn't graded and therefore I could not fail.  Maybe it was finally doing something solely for me. Who's to say?

It was pretty expensive.  But it is Sunday and overall I feel so very alive. Keenly human. Deeply wonder-full.

Here's the thing about really good days: they are like catching the sunset in a bottle.  When you have, you know it is possible. That more than one good day is inevitable.  You open the bottle and enjoy it again, not wanting the memory to stale.  And that drives you onward.

You find ways to make it happen, because you already caught it in a bottle once and deep down inside you know you can do it again.  Because you keep that bottle, even after it's empty. You keep it on your nightstand, on your desk, with a note that says, "Remember."  You plan what you are going to do with it once you have it again.  You plan on how you are going to bottle the sunset again.  Because you can still feel the warmth in your hands, see the brilliance when you close your eyes.  You look to the skies, knowing it is out there.  Maybe it is watching you too.

Remember.

The One

So there I was, again. Pretending to not be in a miserable relationship with fibromyalgia.  I set out on a mission for bad news, bad signs, anything that could justify how I felt.

But that is the funny thing about signs. If we really pay attention, we would notice they can defy us more often than not.

I found that sign, The One.  Don't be fooled by the name, that sign isn't the end-all be-all of signs.  But it is of the breed of sign known as The One.

This sign sneaks up on us. We are on a mission for something else, or like me, for ominous signs. We are moments away from what we think we supposed to be achieving. The sign itself tends to be neutral in news and stature.

But the effects. Hang on to your hats! My sign was regarding graduation.  I thought the advisor would look down at me from horn rimmed glasses, sigh slightly, and declare, "You won't be able to graduate for three more years at least, courtesy of your change of major."

But that wasn't the news. I would be finished with my I am required to take relatively soon.  And I would have enough credits left to fill a major. And become a research assistant. Maybe even do an independent study and research. Possibly get hired by my school. Be able to join the Equestrian Club-because I can. Learn Italian--because I have to take a language anyway. Did I mention mastering the GRE, and getting into my dream grad school? But that is further down the line. Who knows what can happen in two years, if I take every possible opportunity infront of me and pursue some that aren't readily at my feet?

It was The One. The one which hope and possibility fill you to the brim.  You see the chances you have and you don't know exactly where you will go, but you are going. The One.

May your One sign find always find you. Just be open to it.

It's All In the Shoes

Today was going to be hard. Normally I pair my outfit with a quirky hat to off set or distract everyone. But not today. Today I put my big girl boots on.

No, literally. I put my big girl boots on. I knew I was possibly up against ignorant people, entering with a fuse that is already awfully short to begin with.  I didn't want to attract attention with a hat or have a brim block the fire that was ready to shoot from my eyes. I slipped on my shoes and headed out the door.

Perhaps the universe thinks twice about messing with you, when you get up and immediately put your boots on. I didn't receive a single snide comment, resentful glance, or other various outcomes I am accustomed to upon returning from an unknown absence.

Instead I had more people acknowledge I was alive and well, with happiness and concern, than I have ever received.   I entered the morning guns loaded, ready to prove I don't need no-body, cuz ain't no-body gonna give a damn about me, only to be pleasantly surprised. I'm going to say it was the boots. And I'm going to say I've discovered what they mean by going out with your boots on.

When You're On Top Everest

There are days worth screaming over.  In pain. Anguish. Grief. Frustration. It's like you are from a whole different planet, and no one seems to notice why you are screaming. They are merely annoyed at the disturbance you are causing them.

In many ways that is the relationship I have with my health. An infuriating balance game that I thought I was momentarily winning.  Enter the screams. And being a boisterously busy and outgoing person, I don't want to have to deal with any setbacks. Any symptoms, any pain, anything. I'm tough, I handle it. But I'm overcritical with my body and the expectations it has recently failed to exceed.

In a fit of internal screaming, I exploded to one of my mentors and healers, "I have exams, homework, classes, two jobs, friends, laundry, a brother, a dog, a fish, and a whole household's sanity to worry about. And I can't handle it on top of my health!"

She paused thoughtfully, and replied, "Well, you know there is really nothing you can do about it."  It sounded like a smart aleck response, even though she didn't mean it that way. I stiffened, hurt even more by her lack of compassion.

Smiling at me knowingly, she said, "What I mean is, well think about it this. Say you are climbing Mount Everest. You reach the very top of the world, the very top. What's the first thing you think about?" 

She smiled at me, making sure I was listening. "I'll let you in on a little secret. It's not anything you listed before. Nobody gets to the top of Mount Everest and starts worrying about their laundry at home. No one."

If you can't do anything about it right that second, right that day, why are you using your precious heart and energy worrying about?

My health is just like any journey. And some times, it will feel like I am forced to the depths of this earth to find relief.  But it is a journey none-the-less. And no one gets to the top of Mount Everest and worries about laundry.