I ran into one of Dad’s doctors today. They’re hard to catch since as hospitalists they don’t see patients for office visits. He got on the elevator I was using. We both looked at each other as though we’d seen each other before. Then I read his name on his coat and realized that he’d seen Dad in those final weeks. I thanked him for what he did for Dad. I called the case managers who had worked with Dad. Hopefully I can cross paths with the other three doctors and the nurses. Leaving messages is fine if that’s all you’re able to do. It’s nice to be able to thank someone in person.
I eat fast food a few times a week. Today I went through the drive-thru and bought a burger. I took a bite of it while sitting in my car. Somewhere between the taste and the smell a rather curious thought invaded my mind, which was on several other things at the time.
‘This food is dead.’
After staring at the thing for a few seconds, and after a few more bites, I tossed about half. I didn’t feel nauseous. The whole ordeal was just unappetizing.
This was my intuition talking, and I’m listening now. So I guess this means I’ll be fumbling in the direction of a more vegetarian diet. I’m sure my doctors will be pleased, and my body, after many protests, will get on board.
Step one is weaning myself off of fast food. The burgers, the fries, the onion rings, the hush puppies, the cheese curds, the fish, the scrimps, the chicken, the occasional shakes, all of it has to go. Fresher things will have to take its place.
It’s not going to be easy. The cravings will get kinda loud. And I’m sure I’ll slip several times along the way, and that’s okay.
Bless this water.
May it cleanse and nourish.
May it carry with it all which no longer serves.
With gratitude to the elements.
And for the highest good.
So mote it be.
Actually, probably for life. It’s how the proverbial ‘year of living dangerously’ applies to me right now.
2018 has become quite the year of change, and it probably began on 16 Dec. 2017 when my SUV caught fire. I lost my Dad in early June of this year, and I’m still adjusting to that. This new approach to living is probably related to the changes his death has spurred.
I use several terms from psychology here. What I have to say is based a little on things I’ve read, and mostly on my observations.
I guess you could say that I grew up with an underdeveloped intuitive sense. The subject never came up during my elementary and Jr. High years. By the time high school arrived I was on the late 1970s version of STEM-track courses…algebra, geometry, 2nd year algebra, trigonometry, and pre-calculus. My schooling was one of right and wrong answers, black and white, checkmarks and exes. While life at home didn’t constantly reinforce this emphasis on exactness, it didn’t encourage fuzzy perspectives enough to balance the binary-ness.
My first experience with non-binary ‘thinking’ in an education setting was physics class at UT Austin. Physics was really bad about that, with a score of 23 being a B, and there were always two or three kids on the front row who scored in the upper 90s on tests. The whole experience was kinda surreal. I really don’t remember being graded on a curve in high school, and certainly not before that. A couple of my teachers might have mentioned it in grade school but memory doesn’t serve.
As a child I’d hear the words womens’ intuition but never mens’. At the same time I’d hear about men and boys and gut instinct or going with their gut in making decisions.
It’s the same thing.
It’s a tool. It’s necessary for your survival as a human, along with your intellect, your feelings, and emotions.
Women seem to have a better and certainly less aggressive way of operating in it. I think it has to do with the way most girls are raised. When I was four or five and in nursery school I was taught two jingles. Girls are made up of sugar and spice, and everything nice, and boys are made up of frogs and snails, and puppy dog tails. It’s a cute picture when you’re approaching kindergarten. Growing up girls carry the sweetness they had as children into womanhood. Boys are taught to suppress the sweetness and embrace anger and aggression as they move into manhood. This is not healthy.
For my entire adult life I’ve had trouble seeing the grey. I’ve been pretty judgmental, and that’s not limited to my time in Christianity, although I have found western religion to be rather enabling in that regard. I’ve viewed the world as black and white, while seeing greys in the mirror. That’s messed up. And it’s something I am trying to change.
Then what does it mean, living intuitively? It’s taking a more right-brained approach to how I view the world. There are blacks and whites, but they’re dots next to one another on paper. They’re pixels on a screen. And if you back away a little you can see the grey. On top of that if you stare at the grey for long enough the colors start to manifest. It means doing things that aren’t always well thought out. It’s switching directions in the middle of something…sometimes several times before completion. It’s sudden changes of plans. It’s stopping to help a stranger instead of heading to wherever you thought you were headed during your lunch break. It’s often chaotic. It’s random. It doesn’t always make sense. It’s letting the heart lead.
For someone who found comfort in the concrete, a spacewalk, even tethered, is kinda scary. I sometimes feel an urge to retreat to the familiar…to plan it all out. But what’s familiar is decreasingly useful. I’m sure I’ll second-guess my intuitive direction, and I’ll probably screw something up and have to get out the mop. It’s okay. I give myself permission to make a mess. It’s a life-long learning process and not something with a cap and gown at the end.
Dad passed away on Monday, 4 June, 2018 at the age of 82. I mentioned going through people asking if I was ‘okay’ while he was still in the hospital. I’m still trying to figure out what that word means. I am working to help the dust settle and get his things and estate managed. I have a job to maintain and my mom to help out, so my life hasn’t simplified much now two months out. I’ll have a larger write-up about him soon.
I’ve included this song in my playlist “Death and dying” on Spotify.
Disclaimer : emo post ahead. play this song while reading.
people write songs to speak to others. some songs carry hidden meanings, some brings a message, some gives you courage and strength to move on, and some brings healing to broken hearts. and ross copperman’s holding on and letting go is really something i can relate to.
the lyrics say :
It’s everything you wanted, it’s everything you don’t
It’s one door swinging open and one door swinging closed
Some prayers find an answer
Some prayers never know
We’re holding on and letting go
some of you may have been at a crossroad, having to make a tough decision. for those who haven’t, you guys can only imagine the pain of letting something you love go. you can only imagine how difficult it is to have your head and your heart contradict each other. the confusion and dilemma in deciding which…
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