Posts Tagged ‘Acid Reflux’

Mutual Flight

July 10, 2011

I am always surprised by the “message” each angel brings, but this one in particular – begun in an aura of resistence (mine and the wire’s) – truly startled me with the effortless flight she eventually took me on. By the time I formed the little bird to accompany her, I felt myself rising to hover blissfully in an aura of creative fulfillment. A moderate satisfaction  is  a fairly frequent reaction to a job well done, but rarely does the whole thing come together with such a sense of “this is what I am here for”. I am not as surprised when it happens through my dancing. For years I have practiced that sort of release of self that can lead to whole being soaring. Everything clicks and you are who you are. I am not speaking of perfection, certainly not of technical precision in the dance. It is something greater than that. One participates in something beyond one’s understanding.  And here I am, trying to explain  the inexplicable.

As I hung this angel before the black drape to photograph her, I meant to record her existence. But as I stepped back – camera in hand – her delicate motion in response to the studio fans so entranced and invited me that the whole process felt like play, I touched her to still her and she almost laughed at my foolish attempt. She was meant to fly, and if her own airy flight is in doubt, I need only look to the small airborne creature above her head. I looked, and the creature was definitely in flight, no matter that she seemed attached to the angel’s hand. They were obviously one in their expressed reality, and as I was present and participating, we were three in one.

 It is of particular delight to me that this joyful motion can arise from my own near reclining position in my new chair. The chair is meant for comfort and rest, and to provide support for my upper torso to minimize acid reflux. Yet even as I surrender to my human condition, some part of me is realizing quite the opposite. Can it be possible that the spiritual flights of the soul are released in our most human moments? Perhaps we can only know this when we manage to combine our human need with the act of creating. Perhaps the soul soars free when we are least aware of the possibility.

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Where am I? Here I Am…

May 27, 2010

Yesterday I underwent a procedure that revealed ulcers in my esophagus and severe inflamation in my stomache.  This explains increased discomfort from the acid reflux disease that has been with me for some years. I am now on medications meant to heal, and am encouraged to raise the head of my bed, and abstain from eating or drinking acidic substances.  The whole experience has been distracting, and the anesthesia has left me groggy and removed from current creative projects. I am still uncomfortable – and, of course, alone in my discomfort. So… What’s new?

I am writing this, passing time until three hours have passed since lunch. All I want is to lie down and sleep, though a deeper part of me believes in expressing something, no matter how plebian. There is some hope that my journey through the muck of physical ailments will result in the revival of my spirit.  My spirit is untouched by my body’s transportation on a gurney through featureless and florescently illuminated corridors and into a small dim cubicle where I was conscious only briefly, then conscious again, only vaguely aware of recent indignities. A sore throat informed me that a tube was indeed inserted and my upper digestive tract explored and photographed and biopsied by the kind but busy doctor for whom I was one among many whose insides had been explored that morning.

Alright… It is now the next day. I was blessedly  interrupted. Dear children; they can be counted upon to distract one from the morbidity of self-pity. Oh… You didn’t know I was feeling low – and unloved? Actually, I only faced it after my daughter’s call left me weeping, wishing for someone who cares, then accepting things as they were. Time to deliver freshly baked bread to those whom I do not expect to care – and then time to help out with small sprites who snuggle sweetly against their “Nanny” – small sprites for whom communication is mostly physical – and healing in effect. The three-year-old happilly stuffed her mouth with honey oatmeal bread, and the four-month-old laughed until tears ran down his cheeks – all because his grandmother sang repeatedly of a little bird who shakes his little tail and “far away he flew”. I think it was the acting out that did it. I was highly animated, and it was such a releif to “fly”.