Deep: Diving for Relief

Well the respiratory infection
Or its aftermath
Continues to impose its misery
Upon this mind and body,

Slowing down everything,
Making mincemeat of any plans
Sabotaging every step,
Making my stomach refuse much food,

Doing nothing for my mood,
Which is down and sour,
Well beyond meditation power
Though the metta feels safe,

Also I imagine
Pleasant places I’ve been
While I wait to heal,
And hope to soon have a complete meal.

Getting little done
Except groaning,
All is a struggle
But lying around a bore,

Coughing and nose blowing
Are my main occupations,
Along with dreaming
Of old haunts calling to me:

Sitting in a backyard,
Watching the tomato plants grow
On a hot summer’s morning,
Enjoying the view

And from somewhere in my mind
The plants say,
“We remember you,”
And I feel supported somehow.

Deductions: Seeking Understanding

Overwhelming fatigue,
How long will this
Latest recovery be?

I hate this waiting game,
Sleeping off and on all day,
Dragging through my tasks,
Feels like climbing Mount Everest,

Luckily have time to rest
And a place to do it,
How fortunate!

Pushing forward
Through the groggy mist,
Trying to keep going
No matter what the test;

Mindfulness is tough
When I can barely lift my head,
Persistently I did metta from my bed
Attempting to dream up some happiness and vigour.

Towards the evening I rallied,
And though my appetite was still poor
I ate fairly well,
Telling myself this is just a temporary spell.

Determinedly I take another step
And follow that with more of the same,
Not sure what’s to gain
But no energy to consider such aims;

Sometimes I think these days are the best
As there’s no energy left for anything but doing,
The mind gets a rest
From all the extra thinking,
And for all I know
That’s the point,
The actual link.

Deduct: Knocking It Off

Okay, so my digestive system is still tied up in knots and the rage-mobile has been going full tilt all day, and I fell to reflecting on whether, if my gut could talk, it might complain to the kidneys about the lack of water coming its way, which is stopping it up, as in,

“The plumbing in this place is rubbish! The water supply keeps getting cut off and I just don’t get it.” Or so it complains to the kidneys.

And the kidneys are saying, “give us a break, we’ve got this virus to get rid of!”

And the gut’s reply is, “Oh, yeah right, like I believe that. Every five minutes you’ve got a new excuse. Last time it was the weather, before that another cold, before that it was the shingles, then it was stomach flu, and on an on.”

And so it goes. Meanwhile I’m too nauseous to eat, and so tired I can barely move, etc., you get the idea.

I’ve also been having these wonderful reflections on all the good times there have been, sitting in the yard (back when I had access to one) watching the tomato plants grow and listening to the song birds and the wind in the trees on warm summer mornings and hot evenings. Then there were the night crickets and the night crawlers stirring in the bedewed grass. And in even younger years there was tree-climbing and playing cops and robbers—yes, I’m old enough to remember that era, before all the computer games took over in this locality.

Now, it’s all about kids’ obesity, because instead of running around chasing each other, people are all sitting at home eating munchies and hiding in their abodes. I hear people say, “oh, it’s way too dangerous out there for kids,” which sounds pretty strange given what’s going on, on the Internet these days, and my memories of romping around by myself at the age of seven, all over the neighbourhood, where ever-vigilant adult eyes and ears watched over us every step of the way. Oh well, every era has it’s dragons; this one’s just the same.

Ah, ruminating mindlessly, so that’s what that’s like!

Except now I know.