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of joy in my life, of which there have been, many.
This Flickr photo makes me pause, enjoy and ponder. I’ve been doing a lot of that lately.
Pausing.
Pondering.
I am in the thick of reading for my dissertation. I am consuming (via my eyes & mind), mass quantities of academic journal articles and books. The writings cover the history of race and racism in America, how the field of clinical psychology has dealt with these issues, trauma and trauma treatment in the field of clinical psychology, and finally, where racism and trauma intersect.
This reading and research is proving to be highly interesting, rich, engaging, enraging, unbelievable, inspiring, invigorating, and draining at times. In other words, I am in the full throes of real learning.
In many ways the dissertation process can, and is, full of jumping hoops and stupid academic requirements that make little to no sense to anyone; particularly the author. However, there is this other element – the true meaning when one chooses a topic that is alive and powerful (at least to the author). There are times when I feel so privileged to have this task and opportunity to focus, study, pause, ponder, write, and ultimately contribute to a body of knowledge and learning.
The process is most definitely intense and the deadlines loom closer with each passing day but these past several days I have felt the saying that speaks to the journey being the important part with the goal being just a part of this journey.
that I’ve experienced no slipping and falling, no matter how carefully. And I don’t mind saying that not doing so has taken some acrobatic deftness on my part.
Seriously, have you ever tried walking about with a cane or what is now euphemistcally called a walking stick? Doing so requires much thought and coordination. Although I do possess an ability to think, I must admit to not being coordinated. So following several acrobatic feats (if flailing about counts as acrobatics) and nearly taking out the shuttle bus driver with the walking stick, the stick will be returned to the generous lender on Monday. Meanwhile, it is resting and recuperating at my office in the BC.
The good news is that I am now walking stick and knee brace, free. Although I am still needing to favor the left leg and can’t put my weight fully on it which requires some continued hopping about, there has been much healing and progress.
I can say that when I had the cane, urr I mean walking stick, with me that fellow BART riders did not push or shove on me. In fact, when I went to get on the escalator, the sea of people parted thus making my unceremonious hopping onto the moving metal stair a bit easier. Some of you may recall that getting on and off an escalator is not part of my polished skill set even with my normal gait.
Okay. Enough of my update on my gimpiness. For now, at least.
is rough when you can’t swing your left knee up over the saddle and you can’t put your weight on your left knee to swing your right knee over the saddle. When basically you can’t do Jack Crap with your left knee.
I had a little set back this morning getting in and out of the shower. I’ll save you the mental image but suffice it to say that my knee is none the better for the experience – cleaner but more painful.
But yours truly is ready to be back in the saddle. Does anyone have a hoist I could borrow? If no hoist is available, I’d settle for a cane if it comes with a tutoring DVD on how to use it – most of you know that coordination isn’t one of my high points.
Today I’m writing a case presentation to present on Monday and I am reminded of the importance of keeping my writing skills up by writing regularly.
I am also jones’ing for some tasty fried rice. I wish I could stand up long enough to cook some – just the memory of the last batch I cooked has my mouth watering… Maybe I can get the SO to go to the Bowl and bring some back. He’s already done a load of my laundry today though. Okay, I guess there are some perks to being laid up with a bum knee. But to tell you the truth, I’d rather be trundling up and down the stairs under my own power.
or my left knee. Ouch!! and ouble ouch. This lovely event took place on my BART trip home last night from the BC. I had gotten up to let a fellow traveler exit and just as I turned to sit back down, the train lurched and my knee went ‘pop’ loud enough that the woman across the aisle looked over – maybe she thought it was a firecracker. Nope. Just yours truly’s knee.
As some of you know, I have suffered a bad left knee since my high school years and an accident that involved a gymnastics ‘horse.’ It has been some years, however, since I have experienced this bad of a re-injury and I can tell you that it is NO fun, absolutely no fun.
I was barely able to make it up the stairs at my BART stop. Yes, I took the stairs as I usually do and not the escalator. Why? Because I was still in denial, albeit a painful one, that my knee was really as messed up as it was/is.
Today I can walk, gingerly, on a flat surface (sans stairs) but any little body movement can have it wanting to pop out again as the ligament muscles are so stretched and injured from yesterday’s explosive pop-out. I am going to get a knee brace today, I hope. But since the stairs are a no go right now, I will have to rely on what the SO brings back from the drug store.
I am trying to picture navigating around the BC tomorrow to work and back and even the work part feels a bit dicey right now. But that’s some hours from now, right? Who knows, maybe I will be visited upon by a healer between now and then…
For now, I get to practice being a humble human being as I acknowledge my body’s injury and do my best not to curse too much and piss off the Universal Goddesses.
At least some of the time, right?
You know whenever I think of a beach walk, I can’t help but image Miss Annie Rosa Lee Dog who was my constant canine companion for 11 years. And even though she hasn’t been on this Earth plane with me for 5-1/2 years, the image of her frolicking on the beach always persuades me to smile. I think of that little black-furred dog every day of my life and when I do, I wish her the very best of whatever and wherever she is hanging out.
There are some beautiful beaches here in California and yet none of them hold the special place in my heart that Bishop’s Beach in Homer does.
A huge police take-down arrest event just took place outside the Attic. There must have been 20+ cops (the smell of bacon still lingers as some are still here) taking down a lone black woman. Where is a camera phone when you need one? One of the male officers kept punching the woman repeatedly while 4-5 others, both male and female, screamed at the arrestee who was already face down on the sidewalk and restrained by 5 of them. WTF?
And why do they put a cloth bag over the person’s head? I felt afraid for the woman being arrested as she was begging them – ‘please don’t hurt me,’ ‘please don’t kill me.’
I don’t know what had transpired up to that point but it did seem to me that there was excessive police force taking place. I mean where was she going with five grown people, all armed with guns and nightsticks, on top of her? She was on the ground, face down…
I realize there is always a page 2 to any story and I also really get that I do not view the police as trustworthy government agents. It was clear that none of them had ever received, or at the very least learned, any methods to diffuse a situation short of using brute force.
As for me, I feel shook up inside and without agency as I did not know what to do in the moment. There’s something about pack mentality and adrenaline that is a scary thing to witness, and even more so when there are badges, guns and government backing involved. The officers seemed out of their minds and just jacked up on adrenaline.
I can still hear that woman’s voice begging them not to kill her and asking what they were going to do to her…
Have I mentioned that I love big city living?
in our shades while on our neighborhood stroll this sunny afternoon. The SO and I continue to be awed over the abundance of blooming trees and plants. We spied some of the Huge-est (okay, it should be a word) lemons we’ve ever seen – growing on a lemon tree in someone’s yard. Citrus trees are a plenty in this neck of the woods. It’s hard to believe that it is mid-March!
A shiny green iridescent hummingbird nearly grazed the SO’s head while he (the hummingbird) drunkenly (on nectar most likely) flew from one bloom to another.
There’s nothing like a marshmallow after it’s been roasted, or lit on fire as the case may be, over an open beach bonfire. My roasting method is to light it up and then when it’s good and burnt, to peel off that crunchy black shell and enjoy while all the while setting it on fire again. I can usually get 2-3 burned shells from one marshmallow. Yumm!
The only thing that could be better than that would be to have it as a dessert after having scarfed down a hot dog that’s been roasted over said beach bonfire.
And then the only thing that could make those two culinary delights better would be to eat them sitting on a big chunk of driftwood beside my familia and friends this summer in Homer-by-the-Kachemak-Bay.
I realize that it is not yet summer and that I have a few months to wait until this event can take place and I’m still way excited. Does that tell you how much I am looking forward to coming home this summer?
And strangely enough, I seem to be looking forward to turning 50 and beginning that particular decade of my life. I am holding no dread of my 50’s and instead feel ready to step into this phase of my life. I think it’s going to be grand. I really do.
The hunter being the SO and the forest in which he hunts being the Bowl (aka Berkeley Bowl grosh). He ‘bagged’ some spicy tofu, fried rice, and coconut curried chicken for us for lunch. Fresh kill so to speak.
We’ve modified our diet to include small meals 2-3 times a day in our continued search for a healthy sustainable eating plan. I am doing my best in cutting out late night snacking which historically was not in my foraging routine but somehow the past few months has been a nightly activity, causing some unwanted weight gain in yours truly.
My goal is certainly not to look like the anorexic starved skeletal models/actresses who we’re told, constantly and repeatedly, thru the media to emulate. No, my goal is to return to the weight/size that I feel comfortable and healthy at at the age of 50 (almost). Of course, it seems like I am always wishing for a more toned physique but am not making much headway in that direction. But one thing at a time, right?
Oh, I almost forgot to share that the great white hunter, once again the SO, took the time to stop and pick some tulips, and even wrapped them in cellophane for his sweetie (aka moi). They are lovely – a bright yellow one and four red with yellow edges – and are gracing my desk keeping me company this sunny afternoon.
on your playlist?
After spending a little over 30 bucks this past weekend on Itune downloads, I am already ready, after three RT BART rides to the BC, for some new tunes. So, I’m curious as to what you’re rocking/mellowing out to.
I’m also finding that plugging into Lily Pod while conducting disser research, helps the vibe. I remain in love with Lily that’s for sure.
However, my Bose SoundDock has some kind of technical problem and may have to be replaced. I did purchase the $39.99 extended warranty from Best Buy and now I am starting to wonder if all electronic products coming from that store have problems or maybe I am just jinxed in that department. I’ve been putting off trying to figure out what’s wrong with the SoundDock as I just haven’t had the wherewithall to begin that particular ordeal. As a result, Lily and I are becoming almost inseparable.
“Oh Lily, she’s so fine.
She’s so fine, she blows my mind…
Oh, Lily.”
(Repeat chorus several times or until someone next to you says ’shut up.’)
