reverse threading

the path back is the path forward


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when you’re ready to see it. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

our sweet dogga is getting older. we don’t want to see it, but the grey on his muzzle is telling. though more recently – with his new homemade-in-our-kitchen chicken/rice/peas-and-carrots dinners – he seems more energetic, his needs are ever-present in our thoughts and the consideration we have when we are deciding on what our day or days will involve. he is a happy errand-goer and we try to incorporate an errand or two on which he might go along; on days it’s too hot outside, one of us stays in littlebabyscion with the a/c on to accommodate him and keep him safe.

in this reflection of our front door, doggle is waiting for his unkajohn to arrive, filled with excited anticipation. though this happens twice a week – 20 and the two of us share dinners regularly – dogga is as just excited each time.

i took this photograph almost a week ago from our front stoop. i showed it to d and he commented that it was a cool photo. it was only a few moments ago – as we uploaded the image to wordpress – that he realized that dogdog was in the picture.

it reminded me of that ink blot from back in the day where you are supposed to see jesus and all i could see was a dark blot that sort of resembled the shape of the united states – until just now – truly, just now – when i googled the blot and jesus became obvious.

some things are just hard to see at first. i guess you see stuff when you are ready to see it. that sounds more profound than i meant it – particularly about photographs and ink blots – but i would guess that it is true about other enlightenments. suddenly – seemingly out of the blue or with the generous help of a treasured therapist – we understand something, have clarity of sight, thought or emotion. suddenly, we connect the dots. suddenly, things fall into place and there is the inimitable “ahhh” moment. and the flow starts.

i recently had an event that sent me to the emergency room. it felt like a heart event – and had all the warning signs – and it was scary. after numerous ER tests, i followed up with my own physician – a doctor of osteopathy who i had only met with a couple times. her diagnosis was positive as she read the results of the tests i had; for reassurance she recommended that i follow through with a local cardiologist. but here’s the most important thing…she recommended myofascial massage.

i’m from the east coast – and david spent most of his adult life on the west coast – but here in the midwest, natural solutions to physical ailments or concerns are not all that commonplace. even the ones that make sense.

“trauma and stress,” my pcp said, “get stuck in the fascia of your body.” myofascial massage releases the restriction in the connective tissue of your body. this restriction manifests in a variety of ways, causing pain or inflammation. and so, she recommended i try it.

i’ve been to one appointment with my myofascial massage therapist. it had inordinately profound moments. it nearly brought me to weep when – using the gentlest of touch on my shoulders – i could feel myself breathe. reeeally breathe. deeply breathe. safely breathe.

the dots connected.

i couldn’t see this tension that was existing – thriving – in the fascia of my own body from trauma much earlier in my life – just like david couldn’t see dogga in the photo and i couldn’t see jesus in the ink blot. but it was all there – tension, dogga, jesus. but it must have been time. time for me to see it. i was more than ready.

and i can feel the flow – albeit a trickle – starting.

and now, as i wait for my next appointment with this obviously gifted myofascial massage therapist, i am filled with excited anticipation – like dogdog waiting at the door for his unkajohn.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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farm to table. [not-so-flawed wednesday]

10. there are now ten teeny tomatoes tethered to the tendrils of our tomato plants in our tiny tabletop garden. it’s amazing! i am ridiculously dedicated to them and watch each day as they grow.

on sunday i went outside to this old barnwood and pipe planting stand and, for the second time now, snipped off fresh valentino. it’s heavenly, the scent of fresh basil. with a little olive oil and some boughten* grape tomatoes tossed with leaves of basil, we had a meal from our little farm. (try to contain your amazement, millennial farmer.)

i still marvel at this minor little miracle, simple and so utterly complex, this growing edible food. we clinked our glasses of old vine zin in celebration and reveled in the good fortune we felt having successfully – at least for the last three weeks – raised a few plants, who seem to be happy and flourishing in the hot, humid, rainy days we have been having.

around the corner is an empty and beautiful grass lot on lake michigan, owned by the people who live across the street from it. they have planted a vegetable garden and we watched as they tenderly watered it the other day while we walked past. i wonder if they started with a container garden on their potting bench.

i don’t know how long it will be before these teeniest babies will grow and ripen into cherry tomatoes that will grace our salad bowls or join with basil in pasta-union. it will be a journey of enlightenment for us. what i do know is that we are seriously loving every bit of it. and the tomato and basil plants seem to know it.

*****

*boughten: though i don’t normally use it, this is indeed a word and, for this writing, seemed like the right one to use.

read DAVID’S thoughts this NOT-SO-FLAWED WEDNESDAY