I just sort of keep adding to it, and the more stones there are, the less mowing there is, which will eventually become a real boon as I'm slowing down enough that sometime soon, not for a few years yet, but its coming.. the day when I won't be able to work in the yard, even something as quietly enjoyable as weeding. That's my prayer time. I can move prayer time to anytime, I guess, but there's just something about being surrounded by plants and a gentle breeze is flitting by on a coolish summer morning that just brings one close to the [fill in your version, if any, here] Spirit.
But back to pain, which Buddha warned about (everyone suffers). This coming Wednesday my doctor is going to work on the lower part of my back to assure that it might just be pulled muscles from overuse, and not the lesions spreading their army. I've written about the invading pain army before, and it appears that tonight, as I was lying in bed, a new army arrived from Pain Headquarters and took up the right flank. This new army then attacked.....
See where this dude has his right hand? Right through there and down the right leg, tingle all the way. (Thank you, Stockphoto). No matter how I moved, the army adjusted its plan and moved with me. After two hours of trying to doze off in any form, here I am at 2:20 AM typing this. The new army just jostled the other army awake and those guys had been pretty quiet since the afternoon. I admit I probably overdid it when, following ninety minutes of yard work, I headed down to Albany to help my niece move to her new apartment. This meant lifting tables, chairs and packing them into my SUV along with boxes of books (Hey, is that my copy of Mein Kampf?), non used laptops and Macs, and golf clubs(?) some of which then needed to be stored at our house. Lots of picking up and moving things from here to over there.
The table was my wife's grandmother's, and it was touching to see that Grammie had written her name on a piece of masking tape and stuck it on the bottom of one of the table leafs ("just in case someone tries to take it before they find my body, you know."). No worries, Gram. We've got it right here.
Grammie is Margaret Rider, and she's the lady on the left in this shot from 1998. The other lady is Jackie's mom and we were attempting to have a happy holiday season right after Jackie's Dad died. Everyone put up a good front, but the pain on each face is true. Internal or external pain makes no never mind, it is suffering that we must face and deal with.
Personally, right now I'd sell my William Shatner music collection for some morphine so I could get some freakin' shuteye.
