If I Weren't Married To A Computer Geek

I wouldn't have a computer. I mean it! How are ordinary people supposed to know that, in order to be able to open their gmail account and in order to read a blog, you have to know some seemingly random DNS numbers and be able to change them whenever things stop working? Change some meaningless (to me) numbers pulled out of a hat and, abracadabra, it all works.

So here I am on a Sunday morning with a smoothly operating system - thanks to Mr. Carol For Peace.

Caution: randomness ahead.

In my dream early this morning, I saw the husband of a friend of mine and he was emaciated from cancer. I noticed that he actually looked more handsome that way. There were also times in the dream where my dog, Buddha, was at the other end of a long leash that I was holding and he was flying like a helium balloon. That was kind of fun. At some point I realized that I, too, was emaciated from cancer. I was sick and I was singing with a few other people. I remember hearing my voice. It was a sweet voice and I enjoyed hearing it, even though none of us knew the words to the song that we were singing. Then I spoke with my friend's husband -the man with the cancer - and I told him that I didn’t know if I was going to live or die from this but either direction was going to be beautiful. It honestly didn't seem to matter which way it went. Both options appeared to be about the same and equally beautiful.

When I woke up, I had a hard time trying to remember what my current body is like - that it's not emaciated. My view of my body had changed and it took awhile before I got back to my usual view of things.

I'm never sure that I truly see this body as it is, anyway. I went through some eating disorder stuff for a few years in my late teens/early twenties and I don't know if I have ever been able to see the size my of body the same way that others do. I think that I may be skinnier than I think I am. I have always had a hard time allowing myself to gain weight, and losing weight, even when unnecessary, seems to be a badge of honor. It's all tied up in stories and control and, well more control. And since control is such an illusion, there's not much fun in it.

I love what Ram Dass says in a CD set I have been listening to. We see that we are aging and we think that there's a problem with that. It's like the leaves on the trees are turning orange and reds and we say there's a problem???

We all love the fall colors, as long as the colors are those of the trees, but our culture abhors the fall colors of aging humans. I want to let my leaves turn and drop and collect in a thick pile on the ground and then I want to dance in them.

Speaking of fall... as August comes in and we are on the downhill part of summer, working ourselves toward fall, it's springtime in some parts of my yard. A month ago, we had thick beds of ground cover here and there, until, almost three weeks ago, the hail made leaf soup. And now, new little shoots are coming up. They look like early springtime.

Life is amazing. And it's not what I thought it was.

That's a good thing.