To Ponder

At odd times I begin to ponder on a “why” about me.  It is a mysterious moment when I see nothing that gives salve to my “why” and then in one minute of one hour on any one day I metaphorically trip over my feet and find centered smack-dab between my ears a coagulum of brilliant colors leading me towards an idea.

The ease at which this happens is never the same.  Usually, I am aware of what I search, yet at other times my head feels blank and I feel empty without a quest to need.   I blankly stare into space.  Inside my head, between my ears,  a malleable wall blocks thought.  I know that is what needs to change so that even a “why” can form.

The wall begins to change into a myriad of tiny dots of color.  The dots are randomly placed and remind me of a disorganized pointillist painting.  Subconsciously I have formed a puzzle of dots and put them in a sequence of color showing a message;  one that will help me understand myself even more.

To see and listen to what the dots represent, to reorganize them into an understanding is similar to being in a maze without a definite path to get out and often leads you back to the beginning.   If I stop at first try I know a part of me will be lost in this labyrinth of brilliant dots.  To continue is never questioned, to continue until its story is before me will the path to understanding myself. 

Pondering, as many thinks, is not a waste of time, not a foolish or childish act, nor is it something that will never give you insight.  It is a bit like meditation.  Each method of opening a door allows a greater understanding of yourself.

To keep going, to have the strength and perseverance to gather an answer for yourself is gratifying.  After understanding the “why” the next greater question is should you share?  You can only answer this yourself, although check this to decide if this is a wise move.  Remember, just because your mysterious “why” has been answered it doesn’t mean you need to go public with your information.  Maybe if we ponder on that another answer will come!


Tragedy Looms at the Edge of Time

Quite often the phrase: “Tragedy Looms at the Edge of Time”, scratches at me like a cat pawing and abrading my leg for a pet.   I do as she wishes, bend and pet her and she purrs in contentment, but her hair lingers on my pant leg.

As with the cat hair, the  expression pops out and lingers afterward causing me to question its meaning.  I fantasize that this place  lives within my mind and I imagine that it knows all about me, including a forecast of my future moments.  I think that if I dare dip into its quagmire I  will be overcome by squelched visions of hate, buffeted by fleeting dreams of hope, wrenched by truths I have ignored, twisted by each manipulation I have felt, hear once more the taunts from long-ago bullies and relive the anguish of grief.

The thought of all that tires me. I feel a bit overwhelmed and find it is necessary to understand much more and how it pertains to me.

Tragedy: How does this relate to me?  Tragedy should cause distress and great suffering.  I feel none although I wonder if I should?
Edge: As a noun  it presents itself as mean, a line or border at which a surface terminates, thus also referring to at a brink or on the verge of something somewhere.  Could this edge mean that change which has never set well with me is approaching.
Looms: A strong verb that brings many images to my mind.

    • To come into view as a massive, distorted, or indistinct image
    • To be in the mind in a magnified, threatening form.
    • To seem imminent; impending.

Should I interpret these meanings and believe that my mind is a prophet proclaiming a threat to my existence?  I have never smiled on change, nor has any one other than myself decided new directions for me.

As I continue exploring I find that I am not the only one that knows this phrase and others  have developed their own explanation for it.    If I wish to put this to rest I should take the easiest way out and accept that the phrase is not an idiom, but rather that it is nonce phrase.  Nonce explains only in a  temporary present.

Whatever I can gain in the present moment the nonce suggests that the answer will come by the end of the present day.  This doesn’t bring much resolution so I thought that  I should look at the nonce antonyms.  When I do I am left with the past and the future.

Originally, I  imagined that this phrase knows all about me in the current moment.  Now I realize that information must be redirected to  the past or include it in the future forecast.   Basically there are 3 moments that revolve continually.  Two of them record and record what was present.  In memory they are part of the past or part of future thought.

Finally, I realize the edge of time is my unconscious mind working.  It is where I must have balance in my life, it is a fleeting time of decision.  The edge of time becomes an imaginary border where if  I  verge on without judgement tragedy will loom out over me in an unwanted threatening form. 





To Ask The Impossible

It has been about a year and a half since I learned I had lung cancer. The days, weeks and months since then have been less enjoyable than the previous years I have lived. Yes, without question I am better, yet better is relative to what? Am I like I used to be? Do I feel as strong as I was? Can I think as intuitively as before or is my ability to uniquely understand the how and why as strong as it was?

I am not like I was.
My endurance and strength are less.
I simply cannot plan or logically decide as I did.

Today I am traveling to Illinois to see my sister. Previously, all details were ready days before. My clothes were in the suitcase the day before. The last two days I have quibbled over what clothes I should take, what computer I should lug and even what I should wear on the plane! Finally, I had everything packed and chose the shirt to wear! Quibbling breeds wrong choices. I am always hot…….today the plane is a freezer and this shirt I have on couldn’t keep a flea warm.

Where is this all going? The big “C” is one unwelcome pain in one’s ass.

Just recently a lovely, smart and strong person I know was diagnosed with an undefined type of cancer in the lung. I am more than a little upset! I want to scream out that enough is enough and that to inflict this unwanted beast in her is wrong! When will this purge stop that brings such turmoil and worry to mankind!

I will answer my own question:

Answering the impossible is as ridiculous as asking it!

Through the Gray There Will Be!!

This post is warmly dedicated to

Shadowlands and Tauna

to each I send much love………

In my own way I am very determined to make my new path so that when I step within my Crepusculum,  I will be able to breathe a sigh and say, “You made It–You made it Your Way!!!”  And when I say that. I want to be able to jump, to wave, to sing, to laugh joyously, to know that at that moment I am happy and that I will continue to make my days happy.  Nor will I feel sad that I have entered that era of my life.  It should and will be a time to rejoice that I am that mature, that I have worked to be happy and that I am ready for what tomorrow brings me.

In this world of gray that I live, the one that will continue to jettison me to my renaissance, is a world that I have to remember there will  only be a few people close to me that say “Its good, you will make it, you follow your heart and do it your way!”  That’s the key of the gray because so many good-willed people forget that each of us, no matter how much we are nudged, can only do it ourselves.  The gray in life isn’t just the overcast sky caused by a dense cloud cover, it is much closer, it is the part of me that is overwhelmed, filled with thoughts and emotions and so thick that it is impossible to sort, sift or dispense with easily.  Then that gray begins to grow even more thickly simply because there is a lack of seratonin in me.  So many things causes the gray.  Each human’s gray is filled with different reasons, although some can be similar.  My gray, for instance,  is filled with ongoing grief, guilt, ambivalence in relationships, some friendships and not being industrious to set a groundwork for a personal legacy.

Months have passed and the majority around me urge me to just get on with it.  Its time you pulled yourself out from where you are, the time has been too long, they say.  Then there are others who wish never to acknowledge that there ever was something that allowed me to slide, slide pitifully into the densest of grays.  Its quite an experience if you have never been there.  You don’t think to well, you don’t care to write, thank god because the words just aren’t in the head.  Most days and hours you are not attentive.  You don’t care about anything even yourself.  Then  sleeplessness walks in, non-stop eating makes itself at home in your head and further withdrawal from sharing continues until it is nearly extinguished.  Yet for me, there remained two remarkable people who never expected more from me than what I was for any particular day.  Never did they coax me to change, yet their contact with me was always supportive in a wonderfully quiet way.  These two rare people know me the best of anyone because I tell them everything and they listen and   let me know they are always there.

Well, now there is a little break in that gray that wraps around me.  Yes I decided that I needed to begin living, but that does not mean that I give up and accept all the reasons for the gray.  I think perhaps what is unique that this little beginning of Renaissance in  life allows me to continue to sift and sort, heal and pamper all the emotions in the gray.  In fact, it gives me new tools to see and to evaluate and to come to terms with myself.  My two special people have unknowingly given me more help than anyone.  It is destiny I believe that brought each of us together.  One is like a sister to me who knows me so well and can tell when something is wrong, who has gone through more grief and pain than anyone should have  to bear and yet has always given  me continual support and prayer.  The other person, simply put has become my Sage, with enough wisdom to set confusing matters straight in a quiet way, yet also is plagued by many physical problems.  I think that is why they both are so special and their words are taken so easily to heart.  Each has their own pain in living but each have always been willing to give support by sharing their own adversity.

And, during this whole time of nothing, of pushing gray to one side only to find it coming back again, I continually thought what my Mother believed in so strongly and that was of Tomorrow.  Now I do think of tomorrow and also have noticed that when I see someone not smiling or not being pleasant I often tell them that smiling makes a big difference in life, smiling is like a ray of golden sun and if you share that ray of sun with others you will find you receive much warmth and understanding in return.

As I write I smile because during all this gray I have begun to grow from within.  There is much more compassion, much more logic than before and possibly if I look hard enough I will see that wisdom has rested with the walls of my heart.  Yes, there still is so much more that I need to do, to work on.  But only in the last few days has this begun to happen.  I know there will be more that I will be able to understand and a fresh willingness to want to explore life.  It will all come in good time and only when I am ready.  But for now I am pleased that I have my little beginning to a Renaissance at it will lead me to the next stage where I can grow just a little more.

To those who are uncomfortable with me and my gray I promise to be more cautious with whom I share my life.   Some people just can’t handle my past and current emotional state.  That’s fine with me–because I do believe that through the gray there will be life.

What will the 'morrow bring-

If I let go of all the things I know,
if I toss from my heart what tugs at its’ walls,
if I take the chance to step on to the edge of my soul,
then will I be better or worse than I am.

Will the sun shine again as bright as before,
will I never again feel the anxiety within my mind or,
can I take a hold of all the scarred, ragged edges
and bring them back and sew them together again?

If I bend and pick up the pieces of me
If I reach and hold onto the sweetest of the memories,
If I sit and stare at the nothing I see in the vision of my soul,
then will color be able to return to the space I see with my eyes.

Will sorrow that pierces and gouges the heart,
be changed so that the spring returns to the soul
or will tomorrow only bring another spear
laced with grief that only I can feel its’ sting?

As I continue on my journey toward my twilight it is evident that I shall be carrying a few more questions that I can only answer.  Each day I realize that there isn’t any one else in the world that can tell me how I am to do the things I am to do, understand how and when the haze of my world will return to its normal clarity and it is only I who can can know when my tomorrow will feel like it has brought the new spring to my life.

For now I continue to muddle with in the sludge under the white snow that occasionally lets me slip and fall.  It is the grayness of the sky that matches what my eyes see as I sit, sometimes too long, staring off into the corner of my bedroom; or at times I fall asleep on the chaise only to awaken and return to the sight of that same corner of nothing.

I question also, when will the night begin to pass without  numerous times of awakening to see just how much longer I need to stay there.  Eventually I arise before dawn and trip quietly down the stairs so that I don’t awaken M. or the cat, Souse.  It is then, once again in the appalling quietude of our house I sit in that corner of the kitchen that I have always sat in before the bright monitor of the computer to think of what next could lessen the impact of these days on my soul.
And then suddenly,  I realize I have passed from the time of pensive thought into flipping url’s like Blueberry Pancakes on a sizzling hot grill and as the pancakes  are stacked they leave no room between.  As I arise from the computer I know the day lies ahead to be experienced mostly with agitation even more than the Kenmore washer produces to wash my clothes.  And I seem to follow the same cycling.  First there is the agitation, then the rinsing and calming of my mind only to plunge forward into a spinning haze.

I think of all this newness of experiences each day and wonder is it all that bad and  will I be able to make it through it and look backward and know that even in my mature years I can grow and learn all there is that life has to offer.  I know for now I wonder why there needs to be lessons like I am within, but I think  that somewhere in the motion of living there is a plan for me and I must follow this relentless path to find greater peace.

As I turn each new corner I find myself a little closer to my crepuscular years.  With each step I must take now I realize it can only prepare me for the new years ahead of me.  To gain wisdom through thoughts, by the anguish created by death and by recording my  collective new beliefs then it is an acceptable path that I take.

Dear Rhoda,


Rhoda Goldenberg is my sister-in-law and was diagnosed with Pancreatic Cancer less than three weeks ago.  Unfortunately she had little time to ready herself for any upcoming passage she was to take.  During the last week before being admitted to a hospice, Rhoda frantically tried to insure that her daughter and granddaughter were cared for without her presence to help guide them.  Now, M., her younger brother, as well as her other siblings are working towards a trust for them.  At the time of posting she was not expected to live more than one or two days.

You are somewhere in a hospice on the sea, near Boca and most likely you will not be there very long.  When I think about it, I should have taken a moment to talk with you when you called to speak to M.  Sure I knew you had pancreatic cancer, but I also felt there was time, a few more weeks or months for me to tell you how sorry I am.  But that day, I felt I should let M. speak to you.  You had a lot to deal with and I quickly handed the phone over to him without taking one short minute to tell you how I feel.   A lesson can be learned from handing over the phone so quickly as I did.  From now on I need to remember to do what is felt in the heart at the moment you feel it and not leave it for another day!

I want to let you know I was glad to have met you and knowing you has been years of gaining an unusual experience in knowing someone.  I want to let you know how wonderful it was when M and I first visited you in Florida.  Dinner on the lanai was the best, as the cool evening breezes softly blew across the screened-in patio.  We sat there for hours following dinner.   The food (made by you and I) was always superb, the wine Sid bought was delicious and yes, watching M. eat the leftovers as we chatted was humorous.  Although, it wasn’t just dinner that was great, it was the idea of living near the ocean, being warm in the winter and being with someone that made me welcome and wanted.

During the past thirty-five years since we met, much has happened to our two families.   Your  Mother and my Father have died.  We each have gained and lost more pounds over the years than most people can.  We have shared many Seders, some with you present, but we haven’t seen each other for many, many years.  I know I couldn’t go to your wedding to Sid, nor has there been any time in the last decade for a trip to Florida.  Yes, we have spoken on the phone many times over the years and I know you quite well through our conversations.  I’ve been able to follow your life with Sid, how you raised Ari and all the troubles you continually have caring for Ruth and Sara.

I think the last few years have been the hardest for you as you cared for Sid.  But now, Rhoda, in your final days you need the care.  Thankfully, you went to the hospice on the sea.  I hope your room is balmy and bright with sea breezes that gently blow in the wind.  You, or no one deserves this particular, swift end to life.  But, it appears that the human body responds correctly,  to allow you to move quickly to your destination.   I wonder, I hope you had a bit of time to reconcile yourself to your own concluding passage.

But before you leave, dear Rhoda, you should know you will be remembered.  To some  people the best memories I have are the little ones like the ambiance of your first apartment, the diet muffins you could make so well, your ability to cook with flair, your ease in answering the many questions I had about Seder or other holidays, your knowledge of Hebrew made you my interpreter or translator when I needed to understand a word and lastly, your memory as a store house of family facts.

Now, Rhoda, you are journeying on your the last hours through your final darkness.  You have just left the many years you enjoyed within your own Crepusculum (the twilight years of your life) .  Thankfully you were able to spend many, many more years in your twilight than others.  I am sure that you and I expected you to have many more years ahead,  but that is not the case and so I must bid you a fond farewell.  I know you will continue to live in the hearts of your sisters and brothers and particularly mine.

To you Rhoda I bid good bye–

To you I will remember the smile on your face–

The shine in your hair–

The quickness of wit in your mind–

Your hands with your rings and the bracelet–

B’ Shalom dear Rhoda!  Peace to you!