Being here, on a bridge, somewhere between loss of function and having adjusted to it, I find the poem below comforting. It is about feeling lost, but reminds the reader that wherever she is lost, is a place, a “here”. My “here” is atop my bed watching daytime TV, lost as to if and when a day will come that I can put something in this brain other than what comes out of the TV, lost as to how to connect with living breathing beings, lost as to what all this progressing muscle weakness going on in this bod means. Yet, for me through this journey with a physically struggling body,”found” has always been when I have a peaceful knowing that I am doing the best I can with what is. Whatever that is (even laying down breathing), it is a place. Right now, TV and a bit of organizing is the best that I can do.
Lately, I’ve been bringing a small project beside me on the bed. This week it is the art supplies that have accumulated through many years of my own drawing and painting when my arms were able, and arts and crafts enjoyed with my children when they were younger. I have honed my “keep” pile into one bin. Each day I organize something. Yesterday it was a basket of costume jewelry that I used to rummage through for pieces to add to my mosaics. Today, I hope to tackle the pencils, the paints, the pastels.
I smile a bit at thinking that my “here” will change for a bit this evening (fingers crossed) when my hubby will drive us out for our weekend fun food, “take out and home” dinner and a box of our dark chocolate covered biscuits (which we try to make last through the weekend–yum.) We will bring it back “here”, where I will have a movie watching companion, a “here” companion. (How fortunate I am to have him.)
Thank you for your warm supportive comments and the resources shared of how to keep online and keep reading in spite of eyes that aren’t able to. I’m happy to share that my insurance company will cover testing with a Neuro-Opthamologist. I hope to share what I learn, as soon as I learn it. Then I look forward to “adjusting”, to whatever I need to adjust to…And, to try out that software Laurel and Leslie!.. to think of my computer reading and writing for me…I’d do a dance if I could.
For you poetry readers…this poem is entitled “Lost”, and is written by David Wagoner. May it affirm and comfort you wherever you are…and whether or not you know where that is (wink). My hubby will read comments to me, if anyone feels moved to share their “here”.
Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you
Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here,
And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,
Must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes. Listen. It answers,
I have made this place around you.
If you leave it, you may come back again, saying Here.
No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you,
You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows
Where you are. You must let it find you.