The Path to a Healing Heart

It seems this is a constant. My beloved Mati, who has been with me and I with her for the last 15 years is sick. I don't know what is going on, it basically started with a new brand of food. Vomit ensued and then being spaced out, behavior changes and now she is outside again after being outdoors for most of the day. I don't know where she is or what she is doing. The last time she had bloodwork done was last year, indicators of thyroid and kidney issues. It was wait and watch, which I have been doing in between my own health challenges. She simply does not look well and to take her to a vet - among the vets that I know - who will do what they know so well, to take blood and stress her out, that's not even talking about how to get there - bus or hitchhiking, worst nightmare. Is she eating grass to alleviate her nausea now? Is she going to hide under a tree to find solace? I tried to give her something to eat, she took a bite, pale and frail that she is and just refused the

I am not sleeping, have not been sleeping well for years. Who really does know how long this hyperparathyroidism that I've managed to collect into me has been a resident. All I know is that for the past several years sleep has been elusive. I close my eyes, fall into slumber then awake throughout the night. My dreams elude as well. Now my face is unrecognizable. Black rings under eyes, face and tongue swollen and it is into this world I am born anew every day. For this I say: Modah Ani, because there is a plan. I know and it's only the channel of this lifetime that I need to change. Rememberances of sitting with my mother at a mental health clinic where she had regressed into a child-like state. Her age or mine I do not recall. There were so many instances where I, as human was not a cause or being to her and from that I grew consciousness about self and belonging. This theme has replayed itself so many times, it cannot be counted. I should be grateful. I should be. I would be.

I ventured outside this morning, to be one with the green, grey and opened skies, necessitating climbing hills, up a mountain, down and then through a clearing to retrieve a baker's rack that I had hidden behind some bushes a few days before. I had to plan how to get it without dying in the process. I have a wagon that I repurposed a while back to make things easier for me in the garden, this was now to be my aide in bringing the rack back over the mountain and through the hills, pushing lightly because the wheels are that good and bouncy and if needed I would rest along the way. Retrieve, I did, tied it to the wagon, started the ascension and all was ok for the first 5 minutes, then my heart started fluttering so I sat down to rest. It was sheer and I mean sheer divine providence that I had my Rescue Remedy in the pocket of my jacket. Usually it's in my handbag at all time. I never leave the house without it because it can help in case of a SVT. So I took a few drops. Rested

There was no sound coming from the outside. A dull yellow pale afternoon hanging heavy, the only distraction, the sweet grass smell freshly chopped. And who could tell it was afternoon in the endless ocher but for the puffed out sun in a silver shadow floating somewhere between the heavens marking 2-ish. There was the silence the still moments between the frenzy, between the chaotic jolts and the feverish interactions that comprised the life we shared, my 2 female feline allies and I. The rest mattered little in those spaces of time, all that was, was lifting self out in a dissociative effort and waiting to return when the coast was clear – but it was never a full return. Some parts were left either submerged or in endless and perpetual hiding. Maybe with the sun – somewhere in between the layers that heaven was made of. Still they stayed afloat – those removed pieces of self and soul – for the safekeeping of the angels. They were perpetually young and undamaged, but like amputated

With pericardial effusion, heart failure, the energizer bunny till she falls in full regalia, surrounded by hills of occupation, non-occupation, history and pathos, I venture out towards the city of shilo, the atmosphere of which, still, in spite of her being whored out to the highest bidder, still holds the energy of holiness to those who can comprehend. The entire area is being whored out. The entire country is being whored out. Regardless, I focus on the growing things and the hills that drip and shine from the waters that they hold and release. I notice the rock formations, different in each few meters. A perpetual changing of personality, smooth, ragged, jagged, even, uneven, white, yellow, green. I see it all. An unregulated empath among the collective. In the rain, if only to garnish some healing. In shilo there is some healing left. I go to furnish myself and my inner kingdom some nourishment for Shabbat. It is always hard for me to be among the masses,  since childhood. When

Every relationship brings with it an emotional response. All senses that engage with an object bring with it some type of emotional response. When the mind and heart are coupled in unison with this emotional response a neuro pathway is reinforced. A cycle and a pattern are created. Foundations set into motion as they draw from the genetic material with additives of the experience, frequency, volatility and vibratory. It will be proven at some junction that these are in fact the foundation of Hebrew letters and the vowels, each permutation absorbed in infinite variations of sequences. So in unconsciousness this cycle/orbit  is formed,, which becomes a *habit* of the mind and perpetuates throughout one's lifetime. The end result of every such reinforcement is what is known as the pay-off. The chemical release into the system that feeds the memory that is triggered by the cycle that stems from the original experience. It happens in a flash, as quick as light speed. It does

Two trips to the ER in less than 7 days. Things are not what they could be. It could be better. It could be sublime. It could be paradise. It could be a whole new world. Like looking down at a departed body, I am that soul. In sorrow  I find myself in this state. It could be so many things and then it could all be chalked down to my parathyroid. Or not. For every 10 doctors seen, 10 different opinions and everyone seems to be missing the mark. It would appear that this is not ordinary, because if it were, logic computes, there would be stats, labs to support a systematic malady, one symptom of which being elevated PTH. Perhaps even daring to venture and hypothesize by adding another and that would be elevated blood pressure inclusive of pain. I'd like to say it was a beautiful day, the elegance of green emerging from grey is splendid and the birds' forthcoming banter is uplifting to the mind body. Yes, said but not quite felt. It seems I move through air with a heaviness of b