Sunday, December 30, 2018

Red Sky at Night

Yesterday began with a lot of organizational work for the impending meeting of our self-portrait/community mural project. I think, for me, the worst is over. I’ve developed the idea, the panels, the protocols and the graphics. The rest (the party and all its parts) is up to the other members of the committee.
Sheba and I walked in a morning downpour and when I came home, I read my Kate Atkinson book. Then, miraculously, the sky cleared and welcome, welcome sunlight lifted my spirits, so I went to Drumbeg. And so did everyone else. It was as busy as summertime. 
I loved chatting with the people I met including Susan, who has a 45-year old son who’s developed psychogenic seizures and was diagnosed with PTSD. She was delighted to meet me and hear my seizures/C-PTSD story.
And the clouds in the evening sky glowed red I recalled and old sailors’ rhyme that my dad taught me: “Red sky in the morning, sailors take warning; red sky at night, sailors’ delight.” 
Then came a spa that was as welcome as the sunshine; I took my waters after sunset. I love floating in the 103° water, fully extended and watching the night sky. I once saw the Space Station and now I’m hooked on clear-night spas in case I see something again. Plus: The stars are excellent things on which to ponder. The clear skies proved, at least this time, that the old sailor’s rhyme is correct.
More proof: This morning, right above my house, in brilliant clear sky, shines the Little Dipper. It’s going to be gorgeous today so I’ll be able to get rid of more branches that fell into my yard during the storm.
When I get up each morning, my first awareness is of my “children.” I always give Sheba a hug; she likes to stay in bed while I get the fire going. Fred and Ethel come into the bedroom to greet me and together we walk to the kitchen where they want to be fed. But I turn on the lights and leave them there to get firewood.
When I sit down to write my daily post, my relentless innate desire is to rave about my life here. 
When I went for my long sojourn in France, I remember having periodic euphoric experiences as I walked in glorious sunshine with my huge backpack on my back. I reveled in a sense of freedom and independence that thrilled me. I loved living so fully with only the things in my pack; I loved being free of a phone and people.
Living here gives me the same feeling.

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