I’m calm in the state of denial as it welcomes me in it’s void. I block out images of present and future to handle the weighted load.
I’m safe in the state of denial as it warmly embraces my being, holding tight, I feel light when I close my eyes for the night.
I’m lost in the state of denial and I can’t find my way. Each turn a shortcut to reality, a game I don’t want to play.
I’m over the state of denial for it snatches my time, his time, our time, such as it is now and forever.
Menacing…majestic…massive…melancholy…Mahler’s Third Symphony as played by the Philadelphia Orchestra, was a meandering storm through life in one concert! I’m not an expert in classical reviews, but I enjoy and love classical music and Mahler was introduced to me by a longtime friend and musician who understands and has studied this piece of music extensively. A long symphony consisting of six movements, a spectacle with every instrument a large orchestra owns, boys choir, women’s chorus, and a mezzo soprano! As the opening horns blared, I could feel the doubts and questions Mahler had about life going on in his head, as I do listening. An off stage trumpet solo, portraying distance and longing, was beautifully revealed. Every principal instrument had a voice, as if in a conversation at a large convention, each spoke up clearly whether short or extended. Voices and soloist added lightness and hope along with sadness and despair. The whole storm culminating in the calm aftermath, where one could hear the quiet of the “pin drop”.
Life mirrors music, a way to express what one can’t articulate with words. A musician suffers and it manifests itself in a symphony lasting all these years. Genius!
I’m not afraid of uncertainty…but i am. I’m not afraid of losing him…but i am. I’m not afraid of being alone…but i am. I’m not afraid of what comes next…but i am.
I can’t show that I’m afraid… I can’t show that I feel vulnerable…I can’t show that I feel uncertain…
I am not afraid of living our life as it is now…but i am.
…but
…i
…am
I love the smell of Springtime, the feeling of renewal, hope, and nature bursting with color. I love remembering past Springtimes, feeling free, feeling light, feeling happy. I loved our walks in the neighborhood, seeing the buds on the trees, the air warm, the wind soft, our hands laced together. He leading me, talking, laughing, teasing, me feeling lucky, content, right with the world. When did I begin to lead? When did he start to slow? When did we stop our walks altogether? I wish I could remember that last time, but I can’t. “We can have it all, but not at the same time and certainly not forever.” Still…I love remembering in Springtime.
The thing about life is that it could change completely overnight. Here today, gone tomorrow. Everything has a cycle. Everyone has their time… to thrive, to live, to wither, to die. We can’t predict a thing. No amount of love will change the randomness of time.
I would love to push that rewind button to the point of origin in the brain of my husband. When exactly did it turn from healthy to diseased? It never presents itself quickly, it’s a slow change, to almost not even notice…then question after question, mostly, “what’s happening?”…to denial…to anger…to realization…to live a life that’s changed. It’s his life, it’s my life, it’s our life.
Menacing low, the cloud ceiling hovers,
the indulgence of raindrops, I run taking cover,
rumbling skies, a piercing bolt, the washed over lanes, blurr my vision.
Steady I am, determined I ride, clearing my head of thoughtful decisions.
trapped with disease, the ceiling lowers,
the world is smaller, a life stands stiller.
after the rains, a clearing… then sun,
the rainbow appears, vibrant, regal, bold,
the rainbow is ephemeral, it’s beauty and promise gold.
Performance day was April 1st, a glorious day of our work’s pinnacle. Merging musicians, student dancers and newly professional dancers combined for a contemporary evening of expressive dance. Once again, I’m in the moment as I teach a morning class, the start of a long day of dress rehearsal and performance. I love the focus of a warmup class, the dancers begin slowly and build throughout so they begin to feel strong, confident, balanced and stretched. It’s a collaboration, an architect’s plan, a give and take to achieve readiness and prevent injury. We go through our motions and create art.
As if waking myself from a dream state, I hurry off to my reality, jumping into my car for home, thinking about where to stop for take-out. I pass a pizza place and order slices (because of time constraints) and deliver my goods to my waiting husband. We have a hour to share the Neopolitan slices and I sit at the table to relax, get the mail for him to go through, and enjoy some small talk together. I clean up, regroup and head back to the theatre for the performance.
I return to once again give a warm up class, this one is much shorter though, and sit back to watch the magic and greet friends and parents of the performers. I’m back in the moment, darkness closes in, colorful lights rise, our dancers take the stage, music, go. This was a strong, human, luminous performance, I’m once again inspired by beauty.
All is quiet when I return, I share my success with myself.
A hamster wheel comes to mind as I languidly meander through the day, tending to my husband’s needs so I could get to mine. Running through heavy raindrops, I drop him off at the gym for his daily exercise and stop for take-out, which he had a craving for. The rawness of the day is a challenge as I ready myself for the tech rehearsal at the theatre. Driving rain, rush hour, and an awful accident contributed to the grid lock of the day. Eager to welcome the students to stage and space and run my piece with the beautiful lighting we planned last week, I tried and tried to find my way out of the nightmare mess. A car plows into the one in front of mine, I cringe, knowing it’s a bad day for them. The bridge is closed with neon lights flashing, tow trucks parked to block the way, I follow the queue off the main to an uncharted grid of sides that I have no idea how to navigate. I get stuck, can’t move forward, or back, I make a call, so people wouldn’t worry when I didn’t show to warm up the dancers. I decide to follow the next turn that was free of traffic and continued to do so until I ended up right back where I started…home! I had missed my rehearsal, my nerves strung high, a night off now to relax with hopes that tomorrow’s performance will inspire.
Lately, a lot of a little is a good thing for mind, body, spirit. A feeling of pause, stillness, quiet, transcends. Simplicity gains speed. Pace is easy. We’re left behind while the world whirls, spitting, strutting, gathering, gaining. The ebb and flow of life with illness.
Rain cleansing the salty roads, pattering the windows and roof, I wake to a dark, dreary day after a restful, relief-relaxing sleep. We climbed those mountains with precision and calm and I’m empowered… my outward actions overcame my doubtful inner thoughts. Staying strong throughout the session yet hearing things I still can’t process. My heart hurts for him, for me, for us. Banal routine keeps me in the moment as I stir oatmeal and scoop coffee into it’s maker.
i’m off for a day in the bubble, teaching at one place and then another, enjoying the bright faces of students, seeing the love of movement in their practice. we go from beginning to end, reassuring in nature, knowing what comes next, finishing with a flourish.
Driving, raining, cleansing, living, breathing, loving, home.
Left Handed Optimist 