It wasn’t forecast snow today, so I regarded the heavy white flakes falling doggedly to earth as simply adding insult to injury as I faced the morning without my customary coffee. Not so much ‘out of coffee’ as ‘not allowed’. Which in itself is a horrific thing to inflict on any woman. The combination of waking and caffeine deprivation is not a good one. Particularly when a further two mornings minus my customary beverage must be faced and loom darkly over my weekend.
And I’m sorry, regardless of the suggestion on the paperwork, weak black tea is anathema to this Yorkshire lass. Unless it is the colour of mahogany, with enough milk and sugar to sustain a small army, you can keep it. Adding snow into the equation too was just plain mean.
Ani, meanwhile, with unconscious irony , is casually disembowelling Nemo, and is perched as usual in the inevitable open doorway while I freeze. She is eyeing the white stuff with expectation and a tongue lolling with delight. Sadly she will be disappointed this time. I, like Nemo, am going nowhere.
There will be no hours spent frolicking with her in its scintillating purity this weekend. No wandering through magical woodlands or the wide spaces of the manor grounds. Nope. I am not leaving the house.
Why am I being so uncharacteristically antisocial, you may ask? When the snowflakes are falling the size sherbet lemons and the dog so excited? Is the mere lack of coffee, of itself, such an impediment to joy? Does it have anything to do with a dear friend posting that pic about the stuff on Facebook last night…? Or the utterly delicious virtual breakfast that was emailed, including all my most favourite things? These beloved people are, I might add, at sufficient distance to ensure, at least, some modicum of impunity… for now. I had to chuckle though as another friend chose this morning to send me an article on preparing for death. I have some truly wonderful people in my life. And oddly, I mean that. I would much rather have the gift of their torments and laughter than anything else.
No. It has to do with the preparations for a hospital visit Monday morning that include serial fasting, gallons of water and a bottle of what I can only, for the sake of what is left of my ever diminishing dignity, describe as industrial strength drain cleaner. This I shall shortly be obliged to swallow.
It is not as if I can generally eat much to begin with these days. In fact the problem that they are looking at, with a scanner and the prospect of flashing blades, has had among its effects the reinstatement of a waistline of dimensions not seen for many years and my visual re-acquaintance with my ribcage.
I, of course, choose see the waistline as a silver lining. There always is one. Somewhere.
I am incredibly and joyously busy. My body, however, has a mind of its own and keeps reminding me that it is not as well as I am and has a small but effective arsenal of unpleasant ways to do so.
When these kick in at the vulnerable times, the sleepless moments of solitude, it is sometimes inevitable that the ‘what ifs’ creep in too. There are these gremlins in all our closets sometimes, I think, and unanswered health questions can raise the ones about mortality too. I could, of course, brush them aside and ignore them. But you may have noticed I don’t care for stuff lurking unseen so I stubbornly haul them out and have a look.
Am I afraid of death? No. Never have been. It seems no different from birth to me… the other side of the coin, a simple, natural and inevitable change of state. Every birth holds its own death. I do not fear the surrender of the ego, the dive into the unknown of who ‘I’ might be when I am no more. If I am completely wrong in my beliefs then there will be oblivion and ‘I’ will not be and so will not know. If I am right then what comes will be what should. Something will survive the transition, and that will be what is right and natural. It will not matter if I got the detail right from here, regardless of my convictions, for whatever remains will be there. I do not worry about who I will be tomorrow, only be the best I can be now.
Like most people, I think, only the manner of death concerns me. And the timing. I’m not finished with this little body yet, thank you. But I am not prepared to idly speculate and be like the chap in the story who read the medical book, ending up believing himself victim to everything except housemaid’s knee. I am no believer in dwelling on negative uncertainties. They can make their presence felt and niggle away in the early hours if they really must, but I choose to focus on the positive outcomes, having duly considered the varying possibilities and consigned them to Hades.
Regret always comes up with the question of mortality, I suppose. Do I have any? Really? Oh I still have a long list of to-do and to-see that is beautifully incomplete. I don’t regret that incompleteness… I’d have nothing to look forward to and work for without it, now would I? I like the fact that the story is unfinished and the possibilities open wide. And I certainly have no regrets for life so far… it has taught me a great deal. It is crammed with experience, with laughter and tears, friendships and adventures, love and loss… it is rich and vivid, a life full of Life. The only regrets I have are for hurts I have caused, and yet…even those are part of the continuing learning curve. I cannot change the past, only be in the present and welcome the future. So, no. I have no regrets, only hopes, dreams and joy at the wonders still to come.
So right now, as a kindred spirit and eternal optimist, and as the damnable medications kick in, I intend to re-stuff Nemo.
Sue Vincent's Daily Echo 
Bravo! Love your spirit, shine on!
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More of a faint glimmer than a shine the next few days, but come that first coffee after the scan… 😉
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I’ve been in the caregiver position of the “pre-test-prep involving huge jug of Yuck” enough times to tell ya –
Survivors of the prepping for the test report it’s worse than the test and results phase and that ‘surviving the prep’ was harder than surviving anything that came after it –
AND
You’re a brave lady – I don’t think I’ll ever rise to the challenge of drinking the Yuck – –
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I’ve done this before.. but not with quite so few reserves 😉 And not with quite so much pain even before the darned stuff kicks in. *chuckles* Though I’m not sure whether this bit or being inflated like a ruddy balloon is the worst.
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Thinking of you – and hang in there!
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Thank you 🙂
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Thinking of you and sending all my love!!! ♥
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Thank you Leisa 🙂
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That first picture says it all 🙂 Here’s hoping things improved dramatically and quickly.
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Believe me, all appropriate digits are well and truly crossed. 🙂
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so sorry..I hate those kind of flushing outs….
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Not the way I’d choose to spend the weekend 🙂
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Best wishes and much luck! Keep up the spirit!
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Thank you!
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Wishing you all the very best, Sue. Hugs.
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Thanks Judy 🙂 Just counting the hours to the coffee 🙂
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I love what you’ve said here Sue, and it really is the only logical way to look at life, certainly in my mind anyway! We don’t choose to arrive and we can’t prevent ourselves from leaving either! I think I do have some fear in my mind about death, and I’m not sure why, because I don’t have beliefs of hell or some kind of ghost like limbo land that we might end up in, I think it’s just the unknown – I don’t like unknown!! 🙂
But I can remember being very seriously ill, I was 21 and I actually got to the point where I didn’t care if I went the next day, there just was no fear of death. My fear was in suffering what I was in, and that I didn’t want to continue. But for me personally at that point in my life, it was a major turning point and not death that I faced, I think I had to let go of fear of death in order to find life. I’m glad I had that experience, as painful as it was it did teach me that a state of mind can go from one extreme to the other, and whatever state you are in at that time it is very real, and makes absolutely no sense to anyone else! 🙂
I also like what you said about every birth holding its own death, and so in a way there is almost no such thing as death as we normally see it, just an end. Everything in life that ends is just the start to the beginning of something new. It’s not the way most of us have been taught to think, but it has to be true, because that’s how everything is!
And I hope you get to drink your favourite coffee again soon, or if not, that you find something you can drink and enjoy! Our little daily comforts are very big ones when they are taken away! And hope you get to re-stuff Nemo very soon!! 😀
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Nemo was re- and then once more de-stuffed. I think Ani is trying to keep my mind occupied 🙂 That or she is getting her own back for the lack of walks this weekend!
I think you are right and much of the fear of death comes from the fear of the unknown. A certain amount may be the cultural conditioning that we have, but a lot simply not knowing what to expect on the other side of the door. Yet really, it only takes a small shift. We don’t know what is inside a tightly wrapped gift either, but there is usually more excitement and anticipation than fear when we are allowed to open it.
Uncertainty is such a big factor in fear. Even those with the strongest inner conviction have the possibility that they may be wrong to look at sometimes.
I do feel though that much of the fear is due to the surrender of self… who will we be? Will we even Be? Whatever the answer to that question, there is really nothing we can do to change it 🙂
But as you say, everything else we see and know in life has a cyclical nature, dying or ending to begin again, even if in a different form. Perhaps we are just caterpillars with the butterfly within waiting for the transforming process. I doubt the caterpillar knows when it goes into the cocoon that it will emerge in beauty and fly.
Maybe what we fear in death also brings us to beauty. 🙂
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When you said ‘I do feel though that much of the fear is due to the surrender of self… who will we be?’ this really stood out to me, and I think you may well have hit the nail firmly there, ‘surrender to self’ is the one thing none of like to be forced to do, and in death it is certainly not an option. Maybe that’s why so many people I’ve read about when they have a strong belief in letting go of all kinds of things, including their own selfish will, they have no fear of death. So I will have to meditate a bit on that I think, perhaps I don’t let go enough. It’s interesting that I have had to deal with some panic attacks (mainly when I’m out) this last couple of years. Some of it has been to do with not feeling well, as I do have some physical health issues to deal with, but what you said here kind of rested in my mind like a little light bulb, and it may be the key to me learning to acknowledge that I have not surrendered to as much as I thought I had, because panic attacks are to do with feeling overwhelmed – overloaded – with too much in my head I suspect!
So words are so important, because your words have given me a very strong prompt as to what might be wrong! 🙂 I have to say, out of all the blogs I read, yours must be the deepest most profound writing I have read on WordPress, so thank you Sue for all your hard work despite the fact that you are very clearly struggling with your body at the moment! You shine out among all the rest! 😀
P.S. And if you ever feel to tired or too ill to reply to me Sue, a smilie will be good enough for me, as I know how time consuming all this writing is, you need time to live too! 😀
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Thank you Suzy.. on all counts.
I think the majority of us have such a strong sense of self.. even when it may be a negative image (and I had that myself for a long time) that we cling to control of everything we can.. outside and inside of us. Taking responsibility for the self is not the same as clinging to control, though I think most of us react as if it is.
But that is one of the keys, I feel.. the difference between reacting and acting in awareness, as well as the difference between control and responsibility.
We don’t need to be in control of everything to take responsibility for our actions, just in control of our self enough to know whether we are reacting blindly or choosing consciously. And if you think about it, if we do that, even though exterior circumstances may be beyond our control, nothing else is.
So in a way you are surrendering yourself to life.. but with that complete surrender, you embrace life in all its possibilities. And because you are consciously aware of your own actions, you control your world.
Yet with death we have this moment of panic of who one earth will we Be on the other side. I don’t think it matters.. as I said in the post. If we have oblivion, we really are not going to know about it . If there is something, anything, of us left on the other side, we cannot change it.
And of course there is a big difference between the personality we wear in a lifetime and the Essence of Self that transcends the limitations of the physical realms.
So maybe we have to surrender to what we cannot change.. and simply act upon that which we can.. which usually starts within.
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Absolutely fantastic! Again, you have written words that resonate deeply with me – from coping with the lack of coffee to the way tea must be prepared in order to be palatable, to dealing with a body that is “not as well as I am”…all the way to thoughts about death and dying and living with the infinite possiblities of ‘now’.
Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts – if you don’t mind, I would like to share this on my puniest blog (My Latter Half) not only as a reminder to myself that there is a kindred spirit in the world but as a way I can easily locate it again to reread 🙂 .
This post is definitely worth reading and rereading!
Namaste,
~Lyann
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I’d be honoured, Lyann. Thank you. I raise my finally filled coffee cup to a kindred spirit 🙂
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