Various Thoughts in his Arms

Last night I met him on my favourite bench in Gjo’s Woods, a beautiful Elven area where it seems to snow great big goose-feathers every night. It is quiet there and a little cold, so I “rug up” (meaning I wear a very heavy, black, sheared, lambs wool cloak).

Almost always I come to this spot alone to think. Inevitably someone will call to me and ask if they can join me.

So he “who commands me” joined me. I was tired from a very long and very confusing day. He was distracted with RL (real life) I needed desperately to talk. It was frustrating to have something to talk through with someone you truly care about and they are all over the place with their thoughts.

Eventually, I just ran away and hid under the covers of my bed in my little home. He demanded and then asked nicely to join me…so I called him to me. Still he was distracted and still I found myself nearly pulling my hair out with the frustration of unspoken issues on my heart.

His approach was to "hypnotise" me to say he was wonderful, that I loved to surf. the second was the day for the ceremony (if it must be postponed as I had just told him I had arranged to do) and that he was a great cook of ramen noodles and burritos.

He told me stories, including one of his RL (real life) slave who had a vial with ashes in it in her ear, one of King David and the Prophet Nathan. He called me smart and he called me beautiful. He said he loved my green eyes. He said I was like his “other” in being inscrutable during times like these.

I do not mean to be difficult to understand. I am a storyteller and must take time to unpack my story in a way that seems logical to me. I ONLY do this with someone who I care about and who I feel cares about me because I hope they will make the effort to see it through with me, without trying to hurry me up. Perhaps my story just bored him.

Just as I reached the crest of the wave and had full control of my board for the very first time, he said: "OK. Sure. Then we will leave it here.” And disappeared.

I just screamed and screamed at the top of my lungs that he COULDN’T leave right then! That we must talk! But my voice just flew away into the wind and I cried from utter frustration and stress.

Sleep & Near Death

No answer came from him. I checked here. I left in-world messages. I checked his blog…nothing. So I closed down the computer and went to bed.

I don’t remember the last time I felt so tired. I fell into a deep and dreamless sleep to awaken at 4AM (quite late for me).

As I moved slowly from the depth of unconscious sleep into the growing consciousness of a new day, I discovered my was body arranged in a way that reminded me of a childhood memory that remains one of my most vivid, earliest conscious imprints.

I was almost four years old and completely paralysed. I lay in my Jenny Lind bed with the lumpy blue cotton mattress. The room was dimly lit and very quiet except for the crying - there was always weeping. The drapes drawn. It smelled closed in and moist as a humidifier spewed steam near my face to help me with my breathing.

My Mom was there. The doctor stood off near the door with the nurse that was now there all the time. They talked. My Mom wept as she sat on the side of my bed and kept bathing my little body with cool water. I shivered.

Laying flat on my back, my legs straight from my body and my arms in the same position they were in this morning -- both arms up and bent to each side of my head. It was the position from which I could not move.

I never understood it, but still will wake in that same position, as if it is etched permanently in my muscles and brain. Perhaps, this is the way they arranged my extremities each time they bathed me. I just know it was how I lay every day for weeks and weeks in drenching fever and pain I was too young to appreciate the power and strength of.

They thought I had polio, but it turned out to only be Scarlet Fever. I just remembered feeling the deep sadness and I knew with some child-like prescience, that they did not believe I had a chance to live.

But the angel was there every moment. No one ever seemed to notice him standing so gently in the corner by my little pale green and pale yellow dresser. He smiled at me and I knew that no matter how many tears were shed around me, that I would not leave them.

And so I recovered. I have no idea how many weeks it took. But today, I remain remarkably blessed with good health.

Today – Silence

It is morning now. I have made my bed and showered and sent off my morning column. And then went looking for word from him.

His blog tells me that today, he takes a much-needed break, wandering around, breathing fresh air and pushing his body to places few ever go with his love of triathlon. What a remarkable man he is! How fortunate I am to be in his gaze.

Every day he gets up to face so much challenge! A lesser man would simply cave in! But not the dear (remember I am no longer allowed to say great) Turner – my partner and husband for eternity.

So much he manages: his personal day-to-day inner and outer life, his family, his property, his business and….now me. I can only hope and pray that I bring him enough love and joy to help him shoulder his burdens with more strength and grace than before I was there to support him. Only time will tell....