I’m not sure how to do this; hoping that faking it works for now.
I’m calling on the angels and gods and goddesses and Jesus and Great Spirit and medicine animals and any other spiritual entity I’ve ever heard of, asking for help.
I’m worried that in the face of my beloved brother’s last days due to cancer consuming his brain (gliosarcoma) I’m full of self-pity and I whine too much.
I’m worried that as I continue to grieve my two dead sisters I’m feeling sorry for myself.
I’m worried that I’m folding under the life challenges of my old, 2006 Prius that won’t run and my failing graphic design freelance business and my adult children suffering through mental illness and powerful addictions.
I’m worried I’ll always be alone.
I’m worried I’m an asshole, taking my frustrations out on other humans while becoming bitter.
So the only remedies I can come up with are to 1) Get out of bed in the morning and make my tea. 2) Do my day with as much presence as I can muster. 3) Respond to each curve ball as best I can and hope my bat holds up. 4) Nap. 5) Resist nothing. 6) Practice Radical Trust.
That’s it. Wish me luck. I’m sure my headlights are strong enough to get through at least the next few yards of this mother-effing dark and terrifying and isolated back road.
I guess I sound pissed off.
Boy howdy, yes I am.
[painting is from Santa Barbara watercolor workshop I attended last April]
7″ x 10″ ink, watercolor, acrylic on paper = $90