January 18, 2012: We're back to a wind whipping deluge of traditional Oregon rain. This time of year when I get up in the morning I tend to feel like Frodo: I could easily fall into and be swallowed by the lake of the hallow faced dead. But then the phone rings and I hear Dan's voice on the other end, wishing me good morning and asking me when I need the car. And it's as if I am pulled back from the frigid, gloomy waters to enter the cherished presence of my precious living. Dan is and has always been my life line. A smile crosses my face as I end our conversation and begin my day. I am so lucky to have this man, to have our house, to have the abundance and the quiet, meditative time I do have.
So I shower and wash my hair, hurry to dry off, get dressed and get warm. Warmth is usually my main goal in winter and once I'm warm I'm content. As I do the dishes I stare out the kitchen window and see a man riding his bicycle with a huge blanket strapped onto the back. Once again I'm reminded about the survival hardships humans endure. Why is he out there biking and possibly homeless and why am I inside, surrounded by comfort with my two cats asleep on the kitchen table? Are our lives ruled more by choice or chance? I figure it is a little of both.
I almost forgot about Wayne's Birthday tomorrow, so I quickly wrote him a card, apologizing for its lateness and sent it off. Wayne, my half brother, a Utah Mormon who if he knew about Aspen would...would he really be against a Gay family member? I can't believe this would be true. But I know I love him and I believe we have a connection even if he hasn't sent Christmas or Birthday cards these last few years. I am imaging he and Carol are taking care of each other and with Wayne's brain injury this is probably all they can do. I don't want to give up. I want to keep sending my thoughts and to say no matter what there will always be love and remembrance. I am tired of the false divisions we have erected in this country. For our existences to not only be confirmed but to continue, we need to see how we are alike rather than different.
I scan the New York Times and see an essay about Bi-Polar disorder. It is written by the Bi-Polar brother of a sister who is the writer on the new HBO series, “Homeland” with Claire Danes. Danes plays a CIA detective who doesn't realize she is Bi-Polar. Apparently the sister based her writing of Danes's character on her brother. Her brother's response to this series is emotional and positive with hopes this will start a national conversation about this common disorder. As he notes it is better to reveal secrets rather than to keep them hidden.
I am certain my father was an undiagnosed Bi-Polar. His manic/depressive episodes took my childhood on several wild roller-coaster rides. He did have involuntary electroshock treatments which the essay's author says has been proven helpful to this disorder. But I believe it was these uncaringly administered shock treatments which made my father worse. I also have several long distance friends who have been diagnosed with Bi-Polar. Both were receiving medications the last time I had contact with either of them, but my dearest childhood friend has been non-communicative these past few years. Neilani's mother was a depressed, eccentric, alcoholic hermit, and I fear Neilani, who lives in her mother's run down house, has become one too... minus the alcohol. Like with my brother Wayne, I keep sending birthday and holiday cards, wishing for the best.
So much of our lives is beyond control whether we acknowledge this loss of control or not. Or perhaps more accurately, I can never enter another person's mind or body to completely understand where they are or where they have been. I may think I know someone else...my husband or my daughter or a friend... but really I have only touched their surface. Soul sharing with others is possible but can I ever truly know my own core being? My mind flies all over the place and I am left to wonder at both its superficiality and its depth of knowledge. Why do I get pulled in by Hollywood gossip or soap opera dramas or random Internet surfing? Why do I relish stimulating university seminar conversations, novels, classical music and even opera? What's the difference? Which brain cells are used with each attraction? Does the dark, cold, rainy weather give me more reasons for serious contemplation? Is this why Russian novelists often write tragic, depressed works? Does the mind eventually rule over matter and the weather?
© 2012
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