Category Archives: healing

The Present Mind.

brain research, commentary, contemplation, Deep Thoughts, family history, grief, healing, health and wellness, human behavior, psychology, relationships, scenes, social behavior, social commentary, sociology, thoughts, Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , , ,

 

It’s not that I never saw what Mum saw.

It’s that I never saw as she did.

My view of Mum was always from behind. Her back ever turned, either standing at the kitchen sink or seated at the sewing machine, this was a mother intent upon managing the household. And, fulfilling this charge was the daily commitment – task by utilitarian task. Born likely of deferred dreams, to her the home was more about its daily upkeep and less about the living beings who occupied the space.

But, occupy I did.

Whether sprawled across the davenport, face embedded in the corner behind the pillow, or planted at the piano, or poured into a novel……I was there. And, what I saw while known to be was driven by the images which first appeared in my mind. Pictures; stories, entire narratives, from a single seed of thought. Though my body lived in her house, I dwelt well outside of it — inside my head.

But, to Mum, whose immediate purpose was home maintenance, anything worth vision was populated by that which dictated the next, practical move. Dishes, crusted with drying food, waiting by the sink. Dust, coating the coffee table. Cluttered magazines, sleeping with newspaper. Dirty clothes, lounging about. These, she clearly saw, every day of the week and Saturday, too.

On the unavoidable occasion which brought us both into the same room, her raised voice would sometimes penetrate the air around me. In tones of exasperation:

“Are you just going to sit there, all day?!”

There was “work” to be done. Didn’t I see it??

No. I did not.

Oh, I saw the coffee table. I saw the sink. I saw the magazines, and the newspaper, too. These were all props, in a delectable scenario which morphed every time my eyes rolled back and to the left, never requiring my interaction. But, if they captured my fancy, I might consider the contour of the sofa pillow, or the crisp leaves of paper, or the outline of the scalloped table’s edge. Perhaps I would grab the sketchbook, and draw them into the still life of a given afternoon.

But — clean them? Straighten them into regimented rows? Why spoil a good lay out? Why wreck the whole picture?

Some fifty years have passed, since Mum moved about around me in the house we called home. Now, the novel coronavirus has been upon the planet for at least eight weeks of our current lives. None of us, whether absent or present of mind, can see it in any form. All we know is its power to manifest, in potentially life threatening proportions. And, because we are nearly defenseless against such invisible, yet diabolical, intent, we must gather our senses as if to battle. We shield our noses and mouths, attacking only that which must afterwards be thoroughly washed. We count the number of steps between our feet and those of the person approaching us on the sidewalk. We stare through the windows, instead of going outside at all.

And, as we look, we are called upon to see our surroundings as our mothers did, as they appear before us demanding our command. The layout of our lives has changed, fundamentally, for as far into the foreseeable as we are able to imagine. We exist framed in an entirely new panorama, one to which we must be accountable nearly every minute. With each blink of our eye we must be present of mind, lest we be found absent, forever.

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© 5/14/2020    Ruth Ann Scanzillo      All rights those of the author, whose perspective it is, and whose name appears above this line, literally.  Thank you for respecting original material.

littlebarefeetblog.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Newer Normal.

civic commentary, contemplation, Deep Thoughts, healing, health and wellness, human behavior, philosophy, psychology, social behavior, social commentary, sociology, Uncategorized

Admit it. None of us, not even the radical bell ringers, knew we’d all be living like this. Not masking and hibernating, counting the daily dead. Not three months ago.

Yet, when the whole thing finally levels out and we attempt a return to “normalcy”, I have a prediction. I think there will be a major paradigm shift in the mentality of our entire society. I foresee entire groups of people who are inclined to turn their backs on information, who actually prefer a level of denial because it’s more comforting  (because denial can be very comforting; we’ve all lived in denial once or twice and everyone knows what it feels like to choose it), those who have been openly defiant in dialogue with others and are now facing the gravity and the grim statistics of what is upon us might finally find themselves in a minority, as we move forward. And, I don’t mean because of mortality, God forbid; I mean that those who affect, even dominate, the social discourse might be among the very ones who were shunned or dismissed prior to this catastrophe. And, one of the positive outcomes might be a return to respect for the kind of authority that is based in fully informed mindset. Those who seek out information that is factual might finally become the ones to whom others refer for advice and counsel.

Naturally, some might say I’m being self-aggrandizing, hoping that people might finally listen to ME. But, the whole thing is SO much bigger than me – and, you. Nevertheless, I do predict a shift. Those who’ve been clamoring out loud, those in parts of the southern coast who are still beaching, malling, partying and pooling…….still people in this country who are turning their backs, while the Pentagon is busy ordering up 100,000 body bags in anticipation of the need to separate the dead from the living – a hard reality to face, but these will have to be fearless; and, the way to be fearless is to be prudent, and the way to be prudent is to become fully informed, even when the information you glean perhaps defies your politics, even your religious beliefs. The way we protect each other is by being prudent and caring about the kind of advice that is sound – based in measurable information. We really, really do need to care that much about one another and, in so doing, risk the derision and mockery which is often a result of such attempts to actually demonstrate care. We might learn to redefine what it means to love one another.

And, maybe that’s the point.

Maybe we’ll learn how to love each other effectively – openly, with trained skill in communication and a willingness to be receptive to anyone who provides this kind of care. I hope our prayer will be for everyone, including those who have laughed at and derided us. We have to pray for our enemies – not pray for their demise, but pray for their protection. Because it’s all about changing hearts. I was trained on fundamental Gospel preaching, trained to believe that hearts have to be changed – that people have to change from the inside out. And, I’m still laying hold of that. We really do have to change from the inside out.

Here’s to loving effectively and caring authentically. Be well; be safe; keep your ears open, and your eyes wide. If you face reality, head on, you might discover that you seek out only those who will tell you the verifiable truth. 

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© 5/3/2020     Ruth Ann Scanzillo.

littlebarefeetblog.com

 

To Care Enough.

civic commentary, drama, healing, health and wellness, human behavior, notice, performance, personal testimony, psychology, slum culture, social behavior, social commentary, sociology, truth, Uncategorized, , , , , ,
Because Valentine’s Day without the Valentine part, I took myself over to the Whole Foods Cooperative for a self-care treat. On the way in, a guy was just leaving with that familiar, flat pizza box in hand. “Aha!” said the solitary single girl, ” the GF pizza Binnie Decrease mentioned earlier. Just the ticket!” So, upon entering, instead of heading directly for the reach in I walked to the soup line; serving myself a cup of the navy bean veg, I turned to the cafe counter.
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After dinging the bell, I waited for service. Soon, a girl came around from behind me, expecting to ring up my sale. “Oh, no, I’d like to order a Gluten Free pizza!” She grabbed the pad. “You have the GF pizza crusts?” I said, expectantly. She said: “Cauliflower? Yes; we do.” Then, she asked me what kind I wanted. As quickly as I could, I squinted and chose the Athena from the chalkboard – remembering it by name, from Binnie’s post. While the girl wrote, I asked if it contained soy. She went back to check. No soy – would that be all?
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I said I would continue shopping, so she handed me the due bill. Moving across to the reach in, I spied my macarons, and something new: strawberry salsa. Then, I went to Thad’s cash out and set these selected items on the edge away from the belt, telling him I was waiting for pizza. We got into a pretty intense convo, about how cayenne helps heal the stomach’s replaceable lining and all, related topics. So deeply were we involved I missed hearing that the pizza had been put out, done already. By the time I walked to take it, a woman was entering Thad’s line with a basket full, so I discreetly moved my purchases to Johnny’s line. Thad? or Johnny? asked if I wanted the pizza due bill and, when I said it would all be on the check out slip, he discarded it.
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Arriving home, I dug into my pizza. It was sumptuous, if lukewarm, so I heated the last three pieces in the oven. Somewhere between the first slice and the warmed pieces, the itching started. It was pretty persistent, and I soon realized that, though I hadn’t had one in well over three years, this was a reaction.
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I pulled up my clothing, and found the first of the hives on my bodice; then, more, under each arm. Historically, this would have been when I would panic and grab the Benadryl – and, the carkeys. This, again, I did. Popped the shell of one, and swallowed it; also, this time, I took phone photos of each of the hive sites that I could reach. Then, I called the Co-op.
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HivesBodice2020
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Jess answered. When I asked if the due bill was retrievable, she hastily explained that it had already hit the garbage and that the garbage was likely in recycle.
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“Jess”, I said. “This is a health issue. I’m in a hive outbreak, caused by something I just ate from the cafe.” Immediately, she retrieved the due bill, reading it to me:
“Athena – dairy” was all it said.
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And, I did what everyone who has ever had a near- anaphylactic reaction does. I became emotionally upset. My voice elevated. I said: “That confirms it…….I just consumed gluten or soy, I’m having an allergic outbreak, and will be sick for two weeks because the CO-OP hires stupid people who don’t listen to the customer’s requests!”
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Hanging up the phone, I jumped into the car and headed for ST V ER. En route via the 2 block square around the Erie Cemetery I called the Co-op back, demanding to speak with the manager on duty, as I was “en route to the ER.” “Chet” answered. When I explained what had happened, and what was currently happening, adding that I expected a refund at LEAST, HE began to accuse me of “talking down to everyone”……..!? saying that my behavior was unacceptable/wrong. I responded, in kind and in tone, that it was HE whose behavior was wrong. Then, because I had arrived at the valet pull up, I hung up the phone and got out of the car.
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After explaining to the intake girl what was going on, I sat in the chair nearest the registrar window and waited. The itching and welts were still going strong; fortunately, my heart was already calmed by the instantaneous response to the Benadryl. I texted David, and then found the Co-op executive director’s name in my addressbook. Her daughter had been in my studio, but was allowed to leave. I sent the whole thing, albeit more condensed than this detailed account, in several texts to her.
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40 min later, my head getting heavy with pre-comatose/peaking Benadryl, I got up to check with the registrar. The shift had already changed; a new girl was in her place. She said the previous girl had explained why I was there. I thanked both her and the hospital for letting me use the premises as my Safe Zone, and paid the valet fee, and came home. Though I’d had at least two bouts of it, both in ERs, both nearly 15 years ago before I was diagnosed, all from pizza dough that contained gluten/soy, thankfully, no anaphylaxis. This time.
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The Benadryl affect will last longest. It will put me to sleep for the rest of the night (my eyes are closing as I write this), and cause short term memory deficits which interrupt my retrieval of information as I continue to learn one of the most challenging musical scores my hands have ever encountered. Happy Valentine’s Day to, well, everyone else, I guess; I’ve spent mine in emotionally draining emergent health crisis, reprimanded for reacting as most anyone would under potentially life-breath threatening circumstances. All at the hands, and the mercy, of people who, as David would often intone, just don’t care “e.n.o.u.g.h.”
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© 2/14/2020 Ruth Ann Scanzillo.      “I can’t breathe.”
littlebarefeetblog.com