Getting My Bearings, Finding East

The sun set in the west over Botany Bay once again last night and, without fail, this morning the sun rose on its own accord over the Pacific Ocean.

There can’t be too many patients who wander around the corridors, compass in hand, in the early hours looking for an east facing window so as to witness this marvel of the morning. This glorious shining ball of radiant light bringing with it the promise of a new day. I let its beauty fill me and I want to raise my hands above my head to ‘Salute the Sun’ but will leave that gesture for a few more days. Streams of sunlight entering into the dark rooms as I walk back to my room to ready for my departure.

Yesterday’s reckoning, of meeting the dark night once again, brings with it the ease of clear sight, of inspiration, snippets of possibilities. Ideas for a project, a poem. I write the ideas down and put them on hold. While grateful for their appearance, now is the time for rest. Deep rest. For leaning into this healing space. Time to walk quietly and slowly. Time to breathe in the ease of this moment… ouch, until I cough.

Ha! What an amazing form the body is – and, until it is damaged, how easy it is to take its resilience and use for granted. Recently, I caught one of my fingers in the sliding door. Wow, I had not realised how much that middle finger takes in the course of a day. A knock here, a bang there, pressure here – how much it supported simple tasks that were now almost impossible.

Coughing. Mmm. Laughing, Crying. I am giving thanks to the muscles in my abdominal area and pelvic floor for the work they do! Ouch.

My daughter picked me up from the hospital and she is naturally funny and easy to be with; I enjoy her company. My laugh is this weird, constrained, ouchy song of yes, but no that hurts, which makes us laugh more.  I’ll be resting at my son and daughter in laws home for the next few weeks. The hospital part of this adventure is over for now.

The art is to live in the moment, to laugh gently and move slowly. Rest often and give thanks for the ‘simple miracles that seek no attention’.  And, dear friends, I give thanks for all your love, care and messages of support. While I may not have had the resource to reply to all of them I have held them close and breathed in all the love! Deep gratitude.