Quote du Jour

"Whenever a knight of the Grail tried to follow a path made by someone else, he went altogether astray. Where there is a way or path, it is someone else's footsteps…Nobody can give you a mythology. The images that mean something to you, you'll find in your dreams, in your visions, in your actions - and you'll find out what they are after you've passed them." - Joseph Campbell

10,000 Joys and Sorrows

I'm slowly but surely recovering from oral surgery. I'm all healed up with the minor exception of a little lingering swelling and pain. Just three more doses of the antibiotic I was prescribed after an emergency trip back to the dentist a couple of days after writing my last post. But for the most part, dental issues aren't holding me back anymore. That is, I can't use them as an excuse anymore. Financially, things are dire, but I'm not going to bore you with the details. Suffice it to say that there's been a lot on my mind lately. It's been a little overwhelming, and I've allowed myself some time to check out a little.

But it dawned on me a couple of days ago that, somewhere in that space, I think I've gone and gotten myself good old-fashioned depressed. It's probably a pretty natural progression considering the nature of things lately, though I'm here to tell you it's absolutely no bueno. I've been trying hard to find that fine balance between being gentle and forgiving with myself on the one hand, and putting one foot in front of the other/taking care of business on the other. And in my grand assessment of things? I appear to be failing miserably at both. I swear to God, if I have one more dream about my teeth falling out, I may just pull them out my damn self. Of course, if I weren't sleeping more hours a day than I will ever admit to, the dreams would probably be a lot fewer.

The hard part, I guess, is figuring out where the normal response to a difficult situation ends and the pitfalls of mental disorder begin. I'm pretty sure that I'd like to ignore the very real dangers of not addressing my current status with medication or psychotherapy more than just about anyone else. The last thing I want is to start taking meds again, and the last thing I feel emotionally prepared for is to embark, yet again, on a fun-filled adventure of looking for quality mental health services while broke and uninsured. In these dark times, it's hard not to think of my present state as a personal failure. It's hard not to listen to the negative self-criticism and judgment that I assume I'd be hearing from others if I were actually talking to anyone. All the more reason why I've mostly managed to isolate myself from the vast majority of the outside world pretty effectively of late.

There's a Buddhist saying that life is a journey of 10,000 joys and sorrows. For some reason, it's been bringing me a lot of comfort lately. I think that we, as a culture, too often get caught up in the idea that if we work hard and pay our dues, do right by ourselves and others, play by the rules, etc. etc., then eventually we'll find the happiness that we think we're entitled to and things will start to go our way. I certainly do. The problem with that way of thinking is that it leaves us feeling like we don't also deserve the struggles that inevitably cross our paths or that someday they'll give way to a life of smooth sailing. I'll admit I've caught myself asking that devil of a question, "why me?" more times than I care to remember. I know that's just my ego getting in the way though, so I do my best to avoid that mindset like the plague. Right now I just feel a little bit like I'm supposed to be running a marathon while having the unfortunate disadvantage of a broken leg, but I guess this is just one more of my 10,000 sorrows.

World of Pain

I had my last wisdom tooth removed a couple of days ago -- mere hours after dropping Bruno off at the airport after his short stint here to check out the city as a possible place to get his PhD. I can't get into it too much because I'm doing everything in my power NOT to get my hopes up. The mere thought of living in the same city again is so much good I can hardly stand it. Literally. So I'm just going to do my best to ignore anything remotely resembling hope, excitement, or anticipation right now because the last thing I feel particularly equipped to handle at the moment is more disappointment. I'll just say this one thing since I know he's going to read this: it's your turn to move cross country to me again, Bruno. Fact.

Anyway, oral surgery has proven itself to be a more than adequate distraction from all the excitement of last weekend. Vicodin is a hell of a drug. So is having a face so swollen that it looks like you have a softball tucked away in the side of your mouth.

I've also been a little distracted by the memory of the last time I had wisdom teeth extracted though. It was a similar scenario actually. Like the last couple of weeks, I was on the receiving end of a battery of tests before losing the safety net of health coverage for the foreseeable future. I was losing my health insurance since I was about to start law school and couldn't afford to pay the premiums with my meager student loans, so I was getting as many of my medical needs attended to as possible. My first set of eyeglasses, fillings for my first set of cavities, an appt to get my lady bits checked, etc. Part of that included the removal of some wisdom teeth.

Oddly enough, I was only graced with three -- two on the top and one on the bottom right. (Incidentally, Joy only has one wisdom tooth which happens to be located on the bottom left. Weird.) Back in July 2005, only the top two teeth had cut through the gum and the bottom one appeared to be growing sideways, in dangerously close proximity to the nerve. So although my dentist said she would be able to remove the top two herself, she would have had to refer me to an oral surgeon to extract the latter (which is how I got to be thirty-something-yrs-old in possession of one wisdom tooth). I remember the words "possible partial facial paralysis" in reference to the surgery I would have to undergo for the bottom tooth since it was so close to the nerve. Believe me you, that was enough to make me put it off until now and almost enough to make me shy away from it forever.

Fortunate for me, the ensuing years have allowed that bottom tooth the time it needed to make its own way upward away from the nerve and to the surface of my gum, making it easily enough removed by a regular dentist with the aid of several Novocaine injections and a steady stream of nitrous oxide. In fact, the extraction was so swift and painless, I wasn't quite prepared for the extreme pain of this round of recovery or for the looks of horror that have stolen over my roommates' faces on the few occasions they've had the misfortune of coming across me in the house. But never mind all that now.

The thought that I can't seem to escape from as I've been laid up in bed for days with little to no contact with the outside world is the recognition that my first wisdom tooth extraction may have been the first time I suspected that something was amiss with my marriage. Hindsight, you know? When the dentist set my appointment at the very end of the day because she said that, owing to the drugs I would be on, I would need my husband to accompany me home after work, I didn't think anything of it. He only worked a few blocks away and the surgery was on a Friday, so getting to the dentist's office a few minutes after 5pm shouldn't have been a problem, right? Right?? Yet when he showed up to collect me just shy of 6pm after deciding that he'd had time to go to happy hour first for a drink with his new friends, I was too drugged and embarrassed to protest or do much more than mumble a few apologies to the irritated receptionist who'd been forced to wait there with me. Funny how I managed to forget all about it for almost seven years and now find myself wishing I could have never remembered it at all. I guess there's something to body memory after all. Thank God for Vicodin.

Speechless

Hi. It occurs to me that maybe an update is in order. I realize I've been a little incommunicado lately. I've actually been feeling somewhat guilty about not posting anything for awhile. Forgive me. I just haven't felt like sharing, whether it's because I a) didn't feel like I had anything interesting to say; b) wasn't up for trying to express how I've been doing since I'm not quite sure I'm clear on that myself; c) felt like i didn't have anything particularly good to say and therefore shouldn't say anything at all; d) some shifting combination of all of the above.

I suppose I'm the groundhog that hasn't fully emerged from its seasonal hibernation. I've been living in virtually complete seclusion since the last time I wrote. Aside from a lovely visit with Joy and a short wonderful trip to SF for my birthday that left me freshly heartbroken over the fact that I no longer live there, I've left the house for little else than to get to work and back. That is until a couple of weeks ago when, for reasons that would be inappropriate for me to address here, I lost my job without explanation or notice. Suffice it to say I did NOT see it coming. Ultimately, it doesn't matter why anyway. It's the fact of it and the immediacy of  its repercussions that have been taking up most of my energy since then -- though I'd be lying if I said a part of that time hasn't been occupied with a strange sense of déjà vu.

As a matter of fact, there's a lot about this space that's frighteningly familiar. The fear, mostly. The barely concealed panic. The creeping self-doubt. You know, the yoosh. For the last week or so, I've been distracting myself with a slew of visits to the dentist and various doctors. Trying to pack in as much medical attention as possible before I take a deep breath and dive back into the sea of the uninsured. I've been poked, prodded, x-rayed, bled, and by the time all is said and done, will be wisdom tooth-free. All things considered, it's provided a decent (if painful) distraction from the sudden lack of all-consuming work and the fact that I'm being sued, which is another story altogether.

I'm pretty sure I know the question on everybody's mind right now and the answer is: I don't know. I'm at a loss for pretty much everything, so you'll have to forgive me for being somewhat speechless.

Into the Light

Stolen with impunity from Ralfee Finn

It’s solstice time, once again, and in the Northern Hemisphere that means it’s time to celebrate the return of the light through a wide variety of seasonal festivities. This year, the exact moment of the winter solstice takes place on December 22 at 5:30 AM GMT, 12:30 AM EST, and 9:30 PM PST on December 21. “Solstice” means the Sun’s standstill, and it marks the extreme positions of the Sun when it is rising in the East and setting in the West, positions that appear to occur at the same point on the horizon for three or four days in a row. It is as if the Sun seemingly comes to a halt as it turns around in preparation to repeat its path. Of course we know that the Sun is not following a path – we are – and that the winter and summer solstice occur because of Earth’s axial tilt to the Sun along our orbital path. (And for those of you who want more precise astronomical details, start your search engines, now.) It seems our ancient predecessors in a variety of cultures that span the globe were well aware of these solar extremes, and many archeological sites in the Northern Hemisphere are aligned with the sunrise of the winter or the summer solstice; Newgrange, in Ireland, and Stonehenge, in England, are among the most famous locations. 

My favorite solstice symbol is the Sun Dagger, an Anasazi petroglyph located on Fajada Butte in Chaco Canyon, New Mexico. Unrelated to any of our Christmas icons – Santa Claus, Rudolf, or the Jupiter/Saturn conjunction known as the Star of the Magi – the Sun Dagger is believed to be the only astronomical marker of its kind: It indicates within a simple spiral, etched in stone, and a secondary smaller one next to it, also etched in stone, the winter and summer solstice, the vernal and autumnal equinox, and the major and minor extremes of the moon. (Frankly, until I studied the Sun Dagger, I was completely unaware that the Moon also had a “solstice” or standstill pattern.) But what’s even more amazing is that all these significant astronomical moments are marked with the passage of light across or at the sides of a petroglyph carved into the side of rock, which (and here’s where it gets mind-blowing) is hidden behind three enormous boulders. (And I’m not even talking about the rattlesnake nests you have to climb through to see it.)

Because the Sun Dagger is staggering in both its simplicity and its complexity, the research about it tends to focus on how the Anasazi managed to calculate and so efficiently mark these solar and lunar events. Yet while the “how” is important, I’m more interested in the “why.” For our ancestors, the cosmos was a structured, orderly, animate and intelligible system that contained both Heaven and Earth. Celestial events mattered because they were organically linked to terrestrial experiences. “As above, so below,” goes the old adage. The Sun Dagger marks the solstice at Noon, another archeological rarity that reminds us of the diversity of ways cosmic order is observed and expressed. This solstice, from dawn to dusk, invite the Sun to light your way, as a reminder that no matter how chaotic and out of control life may seem, a greater order persists.

In My Absence

Quote du Jour

"Those who make peaceful revolution impossible will make violent revolution inevitable."       - John F. Kennedy