02:29 - 11.10.07
Shift happens
I've attributed it to the Jupiter/Uranus square, astrologically. That sense of being in the twilight zone. The question of whether I am really the butterfly dreaming it is a human or a human dreaming it is a butterfly. It has been a feature every day for about the last week. Now I am quite used to being in meditative or trance-like states (focus on the notes in music to the exclusion of all else, for example), but those are self-induced and timed to be "convenient". The twilight zone feels that way, because the state I find myself in comes out of, what seems, nowhere. Usually when that happens, it is because there is about to be a significant shift in my day to day reality. The mind seems to want to position itself to better receive or comprehand what is coming. All the astrology I've read lately talks about resolving or addressing one hidden obstacle or problem and generally points to a personal relationship issue. Problem is that I keep drawing a blank with respect to what relationship is being referred to. You might have noticed, dear diary, that I have been shunning most relationships that deal with other,individual people. The only exceptions are family members and a very few friends; most of those are even arm's length. That has been purposeful, because I realized over a year ago that my own relation to myself was way out of balance. I needed the time to work through that without complicating attachments that would distort the primary interaction again. In the terms of most spiritualists, I was trying to reset my feet on my life purpose path. A rather pompous and arrogant sounding term, but it really means that nothing I was doing resonated with that inner drive that has always been there to guide my choices and values. Hmmmmm. Making money or securing power for others - especially at my own expense - not my life's purpose you see. Service to others or the community has been the primary driver in my life, but it was sublimated too often to the greed, rather than the needs, of others. I've had to contemplate how and when to recognize and set boundaries - "no" being a very hard word for me to say or even comprehend sometimes. The idea that I don't have to say yes to every request or appeal and that I don't need anyone else's approval, also are issues I've mused on about at length. If we are all One,then when are we not One? Only with respect to my physical body have I felt I understood and been able to practice that concept. I say no frequently where the physical is concerned. End of ruminations for now.
When I headed for the bus stop this morning I was in that twilit state. What reinforced the feeling was the sight of bits of car strewn across the corner I turn to get to the one street over. The last bit was an entire tire laying on the grassy verge of the boulevard. Bits of tail-light adding to the mess. Might explain the helicopter chugging overhead sometime the night before - the two hour time period when I was actually sleeping that is. Maybe that was the other reason for the brain fog. I took it as a sign that I might be in for, what is known as, a train wreck of a day. I stood for the entire length of the bus ride. Landed on an overcrowded train, but managed to get an aisle seat. Good enough. I'm not have coughing fits anymore during the transition from one form of travel to the other. My lungs are obviously in much better shape now. Quiet seat mates too. Reached the downtown platform and headed off for the next stop, still in the dark of night. An older, white-haired man was bent double near one of the benches lining the platform, two other commuters hovering undecided near him uncertain what to do to help. The question in my mind became what should I do? The person in distress seemd to be clutching the lower part of his body. It could have been he tripped or was pushed into one of the really solid objects littering the platform. In that case, the two people nearby could escort him to the walk-in medical clinic less than a block away. Ditto if the posture was because a bout of the flu was about to empty his innards out on the platform. Both my youngest and my grand-daughter were showing clear signs of that viral infection developing and it seems to be almost epidemic among city dwellers right now. Do I risk missing the one connection that is almost always exact to have someone spewing their Thanksgiving feast at my feet? I am well aware of how uncomfortable that would be for the person struggling, but would my presence make any difference. Here in my musing, as I walked toward him, I started castigating myself for being selfish. But was I. That was what I meant about boundary issues.
However, what if he was really having a heart attack instead, chimed in another part of the brain. Even though the signs he exhibited weren't quite right for that? That is the one area where I would be helpful, if only because I carry aspirin and blood pressure pills with me. But what if I offered those and they were taken, only to find that it was a gastro-intestinal disorder. Then I would be causing more harm than good. My "self importance" might kill the poor guy, the other part of the brain declared. All those thoughts while I took ten paces. I decided to let the two people already at his side help him, with the deciding voice being the one of the person who I used to catch a ride to work with a few years back. Her scornful assessment of people who help without asking or do volunteer work is that they are all just needy, attention-seeking, social misfits. She knew very well how much volunteer work I did. She also had no compunction about taking advantage of any and all of the work I had done within those committees, mind you. Her family were in those free counselling sessions almost weekly. Since she and her hubby would never take responsibility for the damage they had done to their children's mental health, it didn't seem to move either of them forward, although I do think it provided the children with at least some safe havens when their parents' dysfunctions blew the hardest.Then the other part of the mind kicked in with accusations of rationalizing the situation, so as to not take responsibility for the suffering person in front of me. Wasn't I my brother's keeper? You see why I am only relating to myself and still in a fog? Bleagh. The end result was that I carried on walking, but was consumed with guilt the rest of the day. For my own mental health I guess I should have stuck around, even though it would have made me late getting to my son's home - the place where that little voice at the back of my mind was directing me to go tout de suite, s'il tu plait.
Just after my son and his partner left for the day, the reason for that other little voice made itself quite clear. My grand-daughter went from the lethargy and fever of the day before to projectile vomiting. Just a low grade fever was the only early warning too. It was so forceful that vomit was even coming out of her nostrils for more than half an hour after the event. Poor little mite kept saying she was sorry, even though all I was doing was cuddling her as I was trying to strip off all the clothes covered in mucus. Carried her upstairs and drew a warm bath to try and sooth her. Her hair needed washing as well. The fact that she didn't even protest that, was sign enough of how sick she was. Once that part of the ablutions was completed, she would have been happy to stay in the tub for as long as it took for the water to become cold. However she started to shiver and complain about being cold as well, so I whisked her into her personal bath sheet, complete with hood. We retired to her bedroom to pick out some clean clothes while diapering as well. That was a diversion she enjoyed, but it was apparent that the fever had increased in the meantime. Not enough to make a trip to the medical clinic imperative, but enough for grandma to decide a day of low energy activity would suit us both best.
I called my youngest once she was dressed, both to wake him up for work but also to make certain he was aware that phase two of his viral infection might make it unrealistic for him to go to work anyway. His response was that he was queasy, but detrmined to go in anyway. At that point I was speculating about food poisoning as the source of the tummy trouble, since both had been at the same Thanksgiving supper on Monday, you see. Hard to know. "Little miss" was demanding cookies by 9:30 in the am, but had to settle for the yoghurt I pulled out of the fridge. She seemed to need to sleep, but woke shortly thereafter just too hot and queasy to settle. I did manage to clean the mess off the carpet, soaking it with vinegar to take out the smell and to reduce any staining. Popped her soiled clothes and stuffed toys into the one bathroom sink to soak, with a cap of laundry detergent added, for the same purpose. Finally managed to answer the call of mother nature as well as make tea - my first breaking of a fast around 11 in the am. Whew.
The rest of the day passed with bouts of restlessness and crying - hers not mine - mixed up evenly with periods of intense play as she seemed to try and make up for lost time. We found the reggae version and the jazz version of the Rubber Duck bath song and that kept her happy for quite a while. Ran out of basic supplies like diaper wipes and juice. Bleagh. Called my son and left a voicemail letting him know. Turned out he had left his cell phone buried somewhere in the house, so it really wasn't a useful action after all. Another attempt to get her to sleep in the afternoon bought me enough time to catch up on other regular tasks I do, but she woke an hour later not feeling refreshed at all. Rather trying day for me, but at least I wasn't sick. I felt really badly for "little miss" though and worried about my youngest, as well as the man I felt I had abandoned on the train platform. That early morning symbolism of a car wreck of a day wasn't entirely untrue, although I felt I handled most of it as best I could without complaining. Really glad to get back home though.
Time for bed though I guess or I might end up seeing today from the perspective of the people who were all sick instead. Good night dear diary.
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