In the winter of 2010, on a bright sun-drenched morning, while driving in the country through the chilly air, I saw an owl flying at my sight level, aside of my vehicle. What was this nocturnal bird, clearly out of its element trying to tell me? My mind wandered back to Native American mythology; how all’s connected in the stream of life; how animals are spiritual beings that guide us along the path. I thought of so many things that this owl could symbolize. With so many revelations that had eluded me never to return, I had to have the answer? Continue reading Signe
Having Parkinson’s disease comes with its share of pain, from my right hand that shakes too much to my feet being sore from walking with my toes curling under. But some things are just a pain in the mental ass.
Parkinson’s is caused by the loss of dopamine which controls movement. I take the drug Pramipexole, a dopamine agonist that does not make dopamine but fools the brain into thinking it is dopamine. I also take levodopa which makes dopamine. Since my diagnosis, I have gone to see a neurologist every three months or so. One of the questions I’m routinely asked is; do I gamble, drink or shop excessively? It seems that both of the drugs I take have side effects of which impulsive and compulsive behavior is an issue. Continue reading Part 10- P is for Parkinson’s or Pain in the ….
You think you know why you’re leaving, but maybe the real reason is not the same as what you think is causing you to leave. You haven’t a clue in your linear world as your reasoning is temporal in thinking but the cause is spatial. Its’ a secret echoing through the heavens and it shows itself in every form in the tangible realm… the red-tailed hawk you saw sitting calmly on the branches of a Laurel oak… the Celtic gateway. The doe and her fawn by the river’s edge prevailed upon you a longing you couldn’t comprehend, just as Rama’s consort Sita longs for a mythical golden deer. The blue heron and his mate you suddenly noticed flying over the icy waters of Lake Lynn; a liminal bird of crossing thresholds. Each is whispering your secret, a secret known to all except you. Continue reading Changes One Nimbus
To the beach tonight, I long for the salty air. The sun has completed its’ days’ work, so Helios rein in your trusted steeds; the moons dance with the clouds has just begun or is it a game of hide and seek? A storm is brewing, falling in off the gulf, rain in the distance, moving from east to west of the jetty which extends out from the coast, penetrating and dividing the waves. The lightning, a spidery web of energy, electric veins of the night sky, counting the seconds when the thunder roars, 1001, 1002… the miles it must sprint until illuminations arrival. The waves are wanting of my feet as they melt into the sand; I see a path of light on the surface of the water, guided by the moon’s reflection. It disappears, comes back into play, a lot like you, coinciding with the rhythm of the moon and clouds, the light and dark, the sacred and profane… wild heaven and all it will allow.
Another battle of the Heart versus the Head…
This should have been a day of joy and happiness… a celebration; but I chose not to attend and thus ruined the party for all concerned. Well, maybe not all concerned as some were glad the party didn’t take place at all.
But what do I feel and doesn’t it count for anything? That little intuition inside me kept saying, “no way, you can’t go through with this” even though I fought it tooth and nail out of fear that I was destroying a life. Better to ruin my life than another. Is that not the chivalrous thing to do?
What nonsense, cried our Pilgrim. Be true to thyself!
Yes, whispered the heart, fingers crossed, bowing slightly to the head. Likewise exclaimed the head winking back to the heart.
In time I also heard a singular voice whisper to me as though it were an echo of words spoken long ago that keeps going and will forever sound through the epochs of time as long as love and compassion inhabit this Earth… “There are many ways to touch and kiss the sky.”
Some time ago whilst I was sitting in Starbucks, a woman noticed the tremor in my right hand and asked, “do you have Parkinson’s disease?” I looked at her a little surprised captured in my tremor and answered “yes.” She proceeded to ask questions of which I answered freely. Most of the questions centered on PD and the fact that she has is a distant relative who was just diagnosed.
I get this kind of attention a lot, which I don’t mind, either people ask questions or those too embarrassed to ask. However, they reveal a slight smile with a look in the eyes and you can tell they know. And rest assure, that whether you ask outright or you’re too embarrassed to ask, you have a few things in common; either you know someone with Parkinson’s or know somebody, whom you feel might have it. That someone might be you!
So the relative in question was a sister-in-law who upon hearing her diagnosed, stayed in bed for two weeks, too upset to get out of her room. And here is this woman looking at me and seeing two extreme reactions to the same diagnoses. I know in my mind I was thinking the same thing. Upon leaving, she told me she would pray for me of which I thanked her. This was probably the first seed of inspiration to write about Parkinson’s.
So the gist of my story is this: I am like these individuals and all others who know. And depending on what day it is, I can go to extremes. So my therapy is to write and share these words and just maybe this will give those with a close connection to this disease a rhyme or reason as to ‘why’ and move forward. As T.S. Eliot wrote in ‘Little Gidding’:
“We shall not cease from exploration,
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.”
I didn’t set out to write about Parkinson’s figuring there was enough being said and written. But the more I told my story to friends the more encouragement I received. It wasn’t enough that others have written about this disease and their relationship to it, what mattered was, my story wasn’t out there for I had a voice and an obligation to write it.
For their understanding I want to thank family and friends for being there and patience in the fact that my life had changed and I now moved a little slower. To my fellow bloggers who encouraged my creativity in the blogosphere and to Mirja who always had an unending faith in my abilities as a writer.
Thank you, JC
In the summer of 2011, I was living about a mile from Lake Lynn in Raleigh, North Carolina. The lake is vertical in design as it is about 5 to 7 times longer than its width when measured from its northern perimeter to its southern boundary. The rich diversity of trees and vegetation along with water in abundance gives shelter and food to a number of birds such as heron, hawks, ducks, geese, and swans. I’ve seen deer that will eat out of your hand after a game of trust settled any inhibitions. The lake is an idyllic place to sit or walk at the closing of the day. Continue reading Part 1- In the Beginning…By the Deep Forbidden Lake