I wrote a poem today.
I wrote into my phone, in the driveway. It is perhaps more a “pre-poetry jot” then a full fledged poem.
It felt good to write no matter what “it” is.
Last night I took a sunset walk at the Panorama Vista Preserve. I wanted to walk and I wanted to take photos like I used to, just for the joy, and I wanted to experience the transition from light to darkness.
It was during this walking time I wrote bits of a different poem in my head.
Experiencing natural transitions are soothing and make transitions I am experiencing with my health feel more normal as well. The transition from feeling healthy, full speed ahead to “something is going on but I cannot label it or know what’s next” uncomfortableness would very easily drive me into a higher level of anxiety – which isn’t good for my body and healing in any way.
I sat on a bench facing east during sunset, which is strange for me. Usually I stare at the sun as she moves out of sight, but I was enjoying watching birds fly as dusk settled. Birds whose names I don’t know who prefer low to the earth shrubs, a hawk cruising for a meal, and two loud ravens flew past. As the sun disappeared under the horizon, the burned dust smell of the Southern San Joaquin Valley rose once again making me wish I had an adequate way to capture it in words.
I’m still working on holding “scent of dust” or a better way to say it is I am waiting for the words to reveal themselves to me. Even better than that is the scent of dust is working on me rather than me working on it.
As I turned to leave the preserve I thought, “hmm. No rabbits are out yet.” In 2020, rabbits were a nearly constant companion on my walks here.
I also noted the gorgeousness of nightfall with a grand cottonwood tree, fenced into the yard beside the preserve.
It reminded me of my mass (tumor, growth). I can feel it, I can see it on the outside of my body, but I can’t get close enough to my own interior to know the impact it may have on my life.
I didn’t fall into worry or anxiety with these thoughts, I simply admired the cottonwood and with great self love, gave myself more moments of compassion. Stepping back into my car, I smiled softly.
As I drove toward home, a rabbit sat beside the road. She didn’t hop away, didn’t appear scared, she simply sat as I drove past as if to say “We’ve got this. No need to be afraid.”
I wrote to my primary care doctor and received a response. Today my personal challenge is to call the surgeon and check on the referral for the MRI. Keep the energy moving toward healing. Continue to assemble to the team with love rather than fear.
In my mind’s eye and deep in my heart, I will stand with the cottonwood in admiration without the need to get too close yet.
Julie Jordan Scott is the Creator of the Radical Joy of Consistency Course which helps people practice consistency and completion daily in order to experience a more incredible life experience. She came to this conclusion after almost dying and coming back to true healing by writing 377 consecutive haiku… and a lot more along her way to building that streak! To find out more about this program, visit this link, here.