A sweater day. Another one. In February. I'm so pleased. I checked the monthly weather forecast today and was surprised to see that the predictions show a slow warming trend. We could easily see sixty degrees by February's last day. Sunbathing on St. Patrick's Day? At this rate, we will be well into summer by May 1st. I feel the lack of a proper winter in my heart and soul. Usually, by this time of year, I am pining for spring so badly that I plot out my imaginary garden in my head to comfort myself. I see in my head a nice 10 x 10 foot plot and rows of lettuce, carrots, okra, sugar snap peas, tomatoes, and beans. In the back, I imagine a few mounds of potatoes, zucchini, and pumpkins.
Of course, when planting time arrives, I will plant my usual two tomato plants to join our back fence of volunteer romas that the birds and rabbits see as their own special garden. They scatter tomato seeds as they eat and invariably, new ones sprout up every summer. I will also plant russian lavender, basil and thyme. But, I am not craving spring this year. I feel as if I've been in five months of autumn. Ridiculously, I am missing the feeling of missing spring. Go figure.
Towl Park is strangely quiet, considering the mild temperature. It is cloudy outside, but not cold. The only other vehicle in the parking lot is the tan (champagne) colored truck that is always here. I see the owner's head flung back, sleeping.
I'm still sleepy myself from a morning nap. I find that naps seldom refresh me, they just make me feel groggy all day.
Today, after Therese left for work, I settled into the lazy boy for my usual hour of meditation. This is part of every week day for me. I begin my day with a carton of yogurt and a check of CNN to see if our president has sent out any junior high tweets. Today, I find that there is nothing, just Sean Spicer sputtering over Melissa McCarthy's portrayal of him on SNL last weekend. (Spot on, by the way...)
After breakfast, I wave goodbye to Therese as she heads off to work and then I settle in to meditate for one hour. It has taken me almost a year to do this well. I used to set our oven timer for one hour and then constantly peek to see how much time I had left. But, as with most things, I have discovered that practice brings success. Now, I don't even set the timer. Invariably, I float back down to earth within a moment or two of an hour.
I meditate on a different person each day. I never meditate for myself or my own problems, I find it more uplifting to center on someone else. As I've said before, everyone has a burden even if we can't see it, so placing them in a white light and sending love, peace, and good wishes to them can maybe help, even just a little bit. Sarah, Conrad, and Luce top my list and then friends and family follow. I actually keep a list on the refridgerator so that no one gets inadvertantly skipped. Today, it was one of my sister's turns. I sat as I always do, in my chair, settling into peace and quiet, putting a picture of her in my mind, infusing it with love and light and then....
promptly fell asleep.
This isn't the first time this has happened and frankly, I find it a little embarrassing. I mean how pathetic is that? To fall asleep less than an hour after I've awakened? Thank you, chemo! Being pertually tired is the gift from chemo that never has stopped giving.
I have had an odd couple of weeks in my sleeping life, though. I've been having very vivid, vibrant dreams of my deceased parents and grandmother and also a woman named Johanna who used to live next door to us when I was a child. It is not unusual for me to have a lot of bright, personal dreams or even prophetic ones. It IS unusual for me to dream of the same people over and over again. I keep feeling as if they are trying to tell me something but I am not getting the message.
I thought this morning after I awakened in the lazy boy that I was probably just exhausted from two weeks of non stop bright dreams. Maybe I needed a break.
At any rate, as I was preparing to leave the house to come to Towl Park to write, I slid on my heavy sweater and muttered out loud that it would sure be nice to just get some clarification instead of crazy dreams.
"If you think that I am living a life of good value and honesty, please give me a sign," I said, tiredly.
I buttoned up my sweater, walked into my living room and stopped in my tracks as a small overhanging Tiffany lamp suddenly lit up.
I was nowhere near the light switch. The lamp hangs over an island table that holds photographs. The light switch is on an adjacent wall and a bit tricky to turn on and off.
I stared at the light for a moment and whispered, "Um, okay. Thanks." I clicked the light switch off and swiftly went out to my car. And sat there in the driveway for several minutes, weeping...not knowing exactly why....just weeping.
Then, I drove to Towl Park. Now, I am sitting here in the park, still a little shaky, still trying not to freak out.