There was no other quotation other than from Shakespeare that seemed to fit my reflections this morning because my life felt like a Shakespearean tragedy just a short time ago.
I walked around my garden this morning and found what I was seeking for in the eye of the young dove. Peace, stillness, connection, understanding, clarity.
What I am about to share goes back some two months. No. Further back. I have been busy caring for other people and living life with no sense of accountability to self. I have a paid a price for this.
If I were to pinpoint a time frame it is at least two or three years ago when I first started feeling pain. I put it down to computer work, fatigue, frequent travel (means different beds and pillows) and with each year I feel I discover a new bone in my body. So I ignored the pain and got on with life.
December was devastating. My healthy brother in law passed away suddenly and as his children had to return from overseas and quarantine, the funeral took place a month later. I was unable to attend his funeral in the Eastern States, due to travel restrictions.
The stress of this while supporting family caught me off guard. I woke one morning with one hand so swollen, it resembled a boxing glove. The pain was horrendous. Unable to dress I waited a few days before seeing my doctor. He barely looked at my hand, dismissed it as part of aging and told me to take anti inflammatory medication (which don’t agree with me). Refusing that option, he felt he could not offer me anything else and told me to use warmth in some form to soothe the pain. Two weeks later I went to another doctor (female) who sent me for a blood test which confirmed an auto immune disorder. I went into a tailspin as I know the medications that will be prescribed are not what I want in my body.
I read up on the condition as much as I could, stress is a major contributor. So I set about changing my schedule and my thinking. My accountant, bless his cotton socks, is a wannabe natural health healer. While talking to him he told me about a product he sells, a magnetic wrist band. Not wanting to take pain medication and non functional without them, I was willing to give it a try. Within 24 hours the swelling had become hardly noticeable. Two days in, I was not taking any analgesics or topical pain relief. A week on, I can close my hand into a fist. Yesterday I lifted a glass because power in my thumb had returned. I can dress. I can lift shopping bags. I can type. I am nearly 100% functional again.
It made me think this morning … why do we wait for a crisis before putting self-care as a priority? This is true for all genders. We give others the best of our qualities. Why don’t we share those qualities with self?
So it is my mission this year to ask the question: what have you done to improve the quality of your life, today?
Until next time
As always
a dawnbird
In response to RDP – Accountability
The talk of the day among locals was how high the river had risen every time they checked their phone either in the office or cafe. A colleague suggested driving out to Nine Mile Bridge where there was a small lookout over the River, so I went with someone familiar with the area at the end of the day. Their excitement was contagious, but we looked on in awe for different reasons. 
My excitement was embedded in the fact this water was the rains that came from a cyclone further north. Muddy red, it carried the heart of the Pilbara mining region, a link that generated a visceral response. With the Gascoyne River being the longest river in Western Australia (nearly 900 kms or 500 plus miles) from Ranges to the sea, it is a spectacular sight to see in motion, the power of it made me step back and away from it.
The night before we drove out to a cattle station I could not sleep with excitement, and like an unsettled infant, woke every two hours. The instructions we were given were literally the proverbial ‘mud map’. There was no phone coverage either for the last part of our journey. My colleague brought her esky and we filled it with sandwiches, fruit and lots of water. We wore casual clothing and sturdy shoes. We grinned at the road ahead and left town early morning all set for an adventure on roads neither of us had travelled before. Just as well we took food, the station was expecting floods and everything was placed on higher ground. 
The road we turned off from the major highway was signposted. The ink ran dry from there on. We saw some petrol tins on wooden stakes, no doubt, meaningful to someone but for us it left more questions than answers. Every few kms we hoped we were on the right track, and track it was, unsealed and deeply corrugated as rain had come through the area but not yet reached Carnarvon. The last 20 kms was an especially bone-crunching drive as we bounced in the cabin, our voices becoming high pitched or subdued, every time a jolt took us by surprise. 
The family was expecting us and told us if we did not show up at the homestead within the designated time frame they would come out to look for us. I wasn’t sure if I felt reassured by this! We were, in Australian vernacular, beyond the black stump. We did see some cattle along the way. It is mustering season so we were somewhat reassured, although we could not see anyone or hear any mustering choppers, there were people around some where in this vast landscape. No landmarks to guide us but the straight track, we reasoned, it had to lead to the cattle station and it did. Eventually.
The homestead was a lovely period building, brick, fibro and tin but being a private home, I did not take photographs. The high ceilings kept the temperature cool indoors and the rooms were dark. We could not see what we were doing so we sat on the verandah under a tin roof for several hours. It was hot and beads of perspiration slid down the length of my spine. I could not help noticing there were several shovels scattered around the verandah. With no garden in sight, the owner confirmed, they were kept handy and within reach, for killing snakes! If nothing else convinced us, this did. We were in the outback.
It is difficult to put into words what the outback feels like. It is harsh and unforgiving country. Yet it is brimming with life of what one can see and it feels like one can experience the unseen. There is a spiritual ambience to it. It floats among twisted trees, swirling waters and skims sandy banks, with a softness that is tangible. This is ancient country. It envelopes one if you let it. It is not a landscape one sees. It is a landscape, a country, one experiences. It is now part of me as I am of it.
Later that evening, back in Carnarvon, we walked to the local pub so we could have a drink or two with our meal to celebrate our adventure. Sunset looked promising.
We walked back to the hotel along the Fascine after dark, where the sunset a couple of hours earlier had been beautiful. I slept fitfully from exhaustion and excitement.
Given the gold rush history of these towns, and all that came before, this is vibrant landscape to me.
Some of the white iceberg roses are tinted in the palest pink. They belong on a wedding cake.
Some were ethereal angels in flight.
A Shared Space 
You must be logged in to post a comment.