Cay Mayo writes

Christmas In June!

{ June 12, 2013 @ 5:00 am } · { Anything and Everything Else }
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This month Man-wonder and I received three wonderful gifts. Gifts of time.

Two Sundays ago we were able to slip away for a walk. (Bless you Philly) The plan was to visit a local park and walk in to the lake. You know—just enjoy the moments.

We arrive at the park and like a lemming drawn to a cliff Man-Wonder heads for the outhouse, throwing off the suggestion I check out the park map and find the best route to the lake.

Let me say right here, right now, that my sense of direction doesn’t exist and he should know better after seventeen years of marriage.

Naturally, we got lost on the first trail. So what does Man-Wonder do? Does he take charge? Noooo. He keeps asking me which path I think we should take. Naturally, I’m not going to admit I’m wrong so I keep picking. And we keep staying lost. Not only are we lost but we are heading uphill. One rocky knoll after another. PFFFFFT. I figured we were about two knolls shy of reaching the clouds when we pass an elderly couple chatting away like magpies on a bench, with their little wiener-variety dog between them. ‘Helloooo, Hellloo’ they chirped.

I could barely say hi I was sucking wind so hard.

We finally reached the peak and what a magnificent view from way, way up there. Just the wind, the tree tops, and us— sitting there with our heads in the clouds.

Anyway it was magnificent, unlike the week that followed where I felt like I was walking around on two new wooden stumps instead of legs.

Honestly—stumps would have felt better. . .

Fast forward to the past Sunday (Kudos to Phillo again). We dusted off our canoe and paddled round, and round, a small lake (one of Man-wonder’s favorite fishing spots) enjoying the variety of calls from red-winged black birds while we dodged dragonflies and scared the beejesus out of the tadpoles hiding in the lily pads we sailed through.

But the most precious gift of time we’ve received this month was yesterday. Oh, we didn’t go anywhere. Neither did Mom. And that was the best gift of all. Mom was Mom.

She woke up knowing who she was, where she was, and why she was where she was. She wasn’t lost for a single minute of yesterday. Wasn’t sad. Wasn’t fearful. Nor was she upset with herself. No endless asking of the same questions. She was just sweet old Mom all day long. I’m sure she wondered why I kept sneaking peeks at her and smiling.

And last night I lay in bed listening to her soft snores I admit I prayed for one more day. Just one.

I guess I was being greedy.

She woke up lost again today.

Round 2: Dementia 10, Peace of mind 0

{ June 5, 2013 @ 5:00 am } · { Anything and Everything Else }
{ Tags: body & mind, Dementia } · { Leave a Comment }

Mom’s dementia is progressing. Or would that be regressing? Since she is reverting to an earlier less-advanced state of mind.

The slipping away from herself is a most uncomfortable leaving. Her mind cannot relax because she is still partly aware of ground lost. And Mom is afraid of the emptiness dementia is forcing upon her.

“I’m goofy. I’ve lost my mind.” She tells me.

“Relax” I tell her, “You’re only losing part of it.”

It makes her laugh. For a moment. Until the words are sucked into the darkness where her memory once lived.

How much am I my mother’s daughter? If I develop this disease, will I feel fear? Will I live in a worried state of mind like her? Or will my practice of meditation, of being comfortable in the nothing, stay with me?

I don’t know. I’ll worry about it if dementia decides to live in my brain. Right now my goal is to walk with Mom until death takes all of her. And I will.

So what has dementia taught me?

That frustration is the result of rigid thinking; expecting things to go a certain way. Dementia has no certain way. Just when you figure out a pattern —POOF— it’s gone.

And

That I have not learned nearly the patience I thought I had. I find my thoughts edged in ugly because of my impatience at Mom’s endless cycle of repeated questions.

What else have I learned?

That anger really is the growth of fear. Fear that I can’t be enough. Fear that I’ll not have the strength when it’s needed most. Fear that I will come to hate the dementia that is her.

And

That each person’s dementia is his or her own little hell. And while there is general knowledge of the disease, labeling it is like trying to put the squeeze on liquid mercury.

So that’s where my brain has been hanging out this week—In some ugly little old black hole. . .only it’s been my choice.

Worthwhile Reads

{ May 29, 2013 @ 5:00 am } · { Anything and Everything Else }
{ Tags: books } · { Leave a Comment }

For the Head:

For those who need it like I do, here is a link to Leo Babauta’s wonderful little free e-book “The Little Book of Contentment.” Leo is a wise man who has learned and lives the values of ‘less is more’ and is teaching others how to live it too. http://zenhabits.net/

For the body:

8 Steps to a Pain-Free Back by Esther Gokhale, L. Ac. A book that asks *Remember When It Didn’t Hurt* The biggest problem I am having with this book is that it’s a library loan and someone else is always wanting it when I want to renew it. I may well have to buy it.

Energy Medicine by Donna Eden is a book I have turned to regularly for years. A book on how to keep our parts humming. A staple on my shelf.

For the heart:

The Secrets of Crittenden County by Shelley Shepard Gray is a series of three books—Found, Missing and The Search. More? I hope so. She writes a blend of secrets, love, trust, and faith and all without messing up anybody’s sheets. It’s a refreshing breath of fresh air, sweet and simple, yet with enough mystery and angst to keep the pages turning. www.shelleyshepardgray.com

For the child inside:

Thumb and the Bad Guys by Ken Roberts. The two main characters are twelve years old (I relate well). Quirky in a wonderful way. I am definitely checking out more of his work.

Another excellent children’s book is Mother and Daughter Tales. Rich, fascinating folktales from around the world. Retold by Josephine Evetts-Secker and illustrated by Helen Cann.

For getting outside :

Here’s my all time favorite gardening book Perfect plant, perfect place by Roy Lancaster. One of the first books I drag out as soon as the frost is but a memory.

A Mountain Year (a nature diary of a wilderness dweller) written by Chris Czajkowski, a world traveler who settled in the wild mountains of British Columbia where she lived alone for many years. Chris’s diary includes her own art work. It’s nice to read a book of courage and fearlessness while curled up in a recliner by a warm fire.

Muriel Foster’s Fishing Diary. When Man-wonder and I read about her diary we both agreed we needed to own a copy. Muriel Foster lived in England from 1884 until 1963 and fished most days of her life. Her journal is a handwritten ledger-style account of her fishing and decorated throughout with her own artwork. Painted scenery, hand-tied flies and caught fish are scattered about the pages in great detail. A must-have kind of book for the fly fisherman or the sketcher.

For getting far far away outside:

Mobile Mansions, compiled and commented on by Douglas Keister. Another favorite and one I pull off the shelf come summer and the urge to take off hits me. Doug has filled this book with pictures of every kind of home-on-wheels imaginable—from the invent of the motor home to present day. I won’t lend this book out because it’s my day-dreaming book and sometimes I just need to open the book up to page 87 and smile back at my favorite motor home.

The nightly news again and again and . . .

{ May 22, 2013 @ 5:00 am } · { Anything and Everything Else }
{ Tags: family } · { Comments (4) }

Well, I’ve had my computer system back for a week now. Most of the programs are running well but some issues it had before are slowing raising their ugly little blank faces causing me to use big juicy fat vulgar words to soothe the angst when I run out of jujubes.

I wasn’t kidding when I said I rather liked not having the internet. There was a sense of quiet in the house. True I missed the instant gratification of finding information. But I survived that lack of instant knowledge and I found my attention span for other things growing.

And honestly, there’s enough electronic vibes winging around here from the television.

Especially with Mom’s continuing passion for watching the nightly news. Her watching the news isn’t the issue here, It’s that she won’t settle and enjoy it unless we join her. So we sit—for the five p.m news. And then the five-thirty news which is almost exactly the same (for Man-wonder and myself anyway. For Mom it’s all new news.) Same thing for the six p.m. news, and finally, for the six-thirty news. I suppose it’s a good thing I’m right there beside her because there is a lot of questions from Mom over what the closed-captioning is printing. (Mom has severe hearing loss).

Take last night—the news anchor was discussing a new Spanish restaurant’s menu and was describing each dish as the camera panned them. The closed-captioning program finally gave up trying to spell the names and simply wrote suspicious language. .

Trust me when I say that closed captioning is for the deaf. It is not for those suffering from dementia. And trust me on this too—I am eternally grateful there is no seven p.m. news around here.

Mind you, there is another source of nightly entertainment happening just out of Mom’s peripheral vision as the news plays out—thanks to Man-wonder and his dislike of all news.

Oh, he can usually make it through the first half-hour but by the second half-hour of repeating news he begins a sneaky slither out of his squeaky recliner. That’s followed by a strange sideways walk along the edge of the room until he’s close to the kitchen door and then he takes a fast jump to freedom.

I admit I’m half-envious and half-annoyed at his antics; if I leave who’s going to explain the closed-captioning?

I guess my point is who needs the antics of a bad-mannered computer? I’ve got Man-wonder and I’ve got the news. . .and they got me.

I’m back!

{ May 15, 2013 @ 5:00 am } · { Anything and Everything Else }
{ Tags: body & mind } · { Leave a Comment }

So here’s the thing—my computer lost ability to connect to the internet on May 3rd so I took it for a ride down to the store it was purchased from.

” No problem,” the tech said from his side of the doorway to his electronic hospital room, ”Sounds like a something-something card corrupted. Easy fix.” He tells me. (The something-something is my version of what he said.)

Six days pass before he looks at it. I know. I was calling. Day eight he calls at eight p.m. and insists he needs some discs I have.

“Right now?” I ask since we’re a good 25-30 minutes away.

“Yeah, right. Now would be good.” He replies. This kind of excites me and I hustle Man-wonder out the door, discs in hand. Maybe he’ll come home with the tower. He doesn’t.

All the next day I wait for the phone call. After all, if tech-man wanted it asap—I should be getting it back asap—right?

Day 10 he calls to say it’s ready. “There was a virus. Nothing serious but I had to strip it down to the bone and reinstall everything. (Again, my non-techie version.)

“If you’re interested ” he tells me, “we sell an excellent virus protector here.”

“Yeah, no.” I reply not sure I’m buying what he’s telling me since the system had/has a top-notch protector already. Not that I know anything techie—no it’s more of a gut feeling over the way the whole tower-to-sick-bay was handled. I’ve never totally warmed up the Certified Data system since I bought it. Just different things that didn’t do what they should for a system barely out of diapers.

Anyway, whether I’m right or wrong, I have my tower of shiny black back and I’ve been pulling my hair out strand by strand since I figured out what cords went where and had to start re-installing the programs he didn’t.

Lets be clear here — program installs and this human don’t mesh too well. The installs tend to stick and slip during their processes, occasionally sending up strange warnings like ”system failed to . . . ‘

I’m not always sure what they mean. I usually hit the keyboard in a jerky panic, and poof, those little windows of doom disappear.

And I’m sorry I haven’t been able to erase the hysteria in my voice. I figure another week or so and I should be perking along again.

What have I learned from all of this? I’ve discovered how easy things can feel without the internet. Kind of like a mental vacation. I think I like it. I really do. At the very least, my eyes stopped burning and the dent in my forehead had smoothed out.

It was nice. Sort of. . .

Pulling the ink out of the twigs

{ May 1, 2013 @ 7:14 am } · { Anything and Everything Else }
{ Tags: writing } · { Leave a Comment }

Confession time. I have been a slack-ass these past few years and the proof is in the ‘submitting’ file drawer I ripped apart two days ago. Oh, heck, let’s be truthful and call it my ‘hide it and forget it’ drawer. It contained twenty-nine never-seen-an-editor pieces.

There it was—my fear of submission. Stacked in front of me. Funny thing is—I never thought rejection would stop me from writing because I was able to rationalize it so well. Now I see that rationalizing doesn’t always win in a battle against emotions. Emotions like to sneak in and around rational thought. They’re like the beavers building a dam. One little twig of doubt is stuffed in here; another one over there. Here and there, there and here, and before you know it the whole dam is complete and the flow is gone.

Honestly, if it wasn’t for the small writing group I’ve belonged to since I started writing I think I would have thrown in the towel a few times. They’re kind of like the little dingy that keeps banging against the dam, breaking twigs, keeping the trickle alive.

And pushing myself to write here each week has been a twig-plucker too.

About two months back I sat down and had a serious talk with myself (for sanity’s sake let’s call it meditation) and I realized I couldn’t keep not writing. To keep dragging my fingers (imagine the word butt there) was just stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid, and since I’m not stupid—slightly daft maybe, but not stupid—I made up my mind to follow the advice of all those prolific writers who lead the way;

Just write

Simple words. Strong words.

I shifted gears and have been getting up around somewhere between four and five a.m. each morning and firing up the computer, opening up to a book I’ve wanted to write for about 10 years and just writing. Before I let anything else into my world now I write. It’s a joy. The quietness. The emptiness of the world before dawn; before I become the wife, the daughter/mother, or even the Cathie, I’m just the open valve onto the page.

I’m not writing volumes. If I’m lucky I get 500-800 words down before my name is called. But the dam has been breached and it feels good to be moving along again.

As for my un-submitted pieces from the drawer? I made up a sign. It sits in front of the stack on my desk. It says,

Good Shit Man! Don’t Be Afraid.

And you know what. I don’t think I am anymore.

Back to The Map

{ April 24, 2013 @ 6:11 am } · { Anything and Everything Else }
{ Tags: books } · { Leave a Comment }

THE MAP by Colette Baron-Reid.

A couple of blogs back I mentioned I’d started this book and only getting as far as the first paragraph before erupting into one of those joyful moments where another piece of you opens up, and it feels like someone banged a gong inside your head—I was so looking forward to more.

It wasn’t to be.

Her book is a role-playing way of looking inside oneself. It asks the reader to create a deeply involved, twisting and turning, surprises around the corners kind of mind-map, and even though I’m a fan of all things map-py, I couldn’t catch a ride on this book. As long as the reader is prepared for a lot of involved work to take place, it’s all good.

I’m wasn’t. I’m not. I like simple. I don’t care for role-playing, and I’m not a games fan and maybe, right now, in this stage of my life, I’m just too tired. Or maybe I’m further along on my path of understanding me the human and me the soul than I realized—I’m not sure.

I just know this book isn’t for me. And that’s sad. I like learning and I love reading so it’s always a big disappointment when I start a book but can’t finish it. And I didn’t finish this book.

I’m sorry Colette Baron-Reid but we simply had to part ways.

Brain in gear. Sort of.

{ April 17, 2013 @ 5:00 am } · { Anything and Everything Else }
{ Tags: body & mind, Dementia, getting old } · { Leave a Comment }

What’s been going through my brain this past week?

How utterly special a sunny day is. Even more precious when you can actually get outside and feel the sun on your skin. The only downside, this time of year, is realizing that your ginormous goosebumps have blocked any rays from being absorbed.
Man-wonder and I have been drooling over our latest purchase (we’re calling it our winter vacation). It’s Danny Gregory’s latest book, An Illustrated Journey.OMG! This book is as delicious as

Tamar Adler’s An Everlasting Meal only Danny’s uses art supplies instead of food. Danny has also been releasing video interviews with artists from the book. What a double treat!

Manage to get keep it sane on a day where Mom was so lost in space she asked the same three or four questions all day long (and I do mean allllllll day long). Then the next morning the dementia did a flip. She woke up with her mind in place and it pretty much stayed where it belonged. A day like that feels as good as a sunny day.
And speaking of brain cells—look at this gem I found; ‘Brain cells come and brain cells go but fat cells last forever.’ Man, things like that make me want to crawl back into bed and never get up no more, no more, no more. No wonder diets don’t work!
Earlier this week Mom banged the corner of her forehead on a kitchen cupboard door and because she takes blood thinners the spot ripened up like an eggplant. Not huge, just noticeable. Here’s the dilemma; Do I chance taking her out for a ride where others might see her bruise and think elder abuse.. . .Or do I lock her in a closet till the bruise is gone ? Relax—anyone who’s ever heard Mom yell knows I’m wallowing in black humor. She’s got a set of lungs that would put a hog-caller to shame. Trust me on that one!

And finally, what am I doing to keep my brain cells in their own place? Each morning I wake up and tell myself I will choose to accept the day as it unfolds; I will choose contentment with what I have; and I will choose to be wealthy. (I think the universal energy is taking a different path with that last one.)

One last thought on brain cells: If the left side of the brain controls the right hand—does that mean only left-handed people are in control of their right minds?

DUCK—here comes another AHA moment. . .

{ April 10, 2013 @ 5:00 am } · { Anything and Everything Else }
{ Tags: books, on being creative } · { Leave a Comment }

I picked up a book called The Map by Colette Baron-Reid. So far I’ve made it through the list of contents (catching the interest for sure), a poem called harbour by Nancy Levin (love it, for it speaks the truth), the Forward by Denise Linn (a head-nodder for sure), the preface (amazing how Colette has survived her life—period) and finally, have read the first lines of the Introduction – Your enchanted map (where I zoned out as she requests and where I had one of those aha moments while doing so). And that’s as far as I’ve gotten so far.

In those lines Colette asks the question Where are you right now?

Then she tells you to Close your eyes and describe where you feel you are. Colette says this inner landscape bears no resemblance to where you are actually located in time and space.

So okay—I close my eyes and feel it out.

I’m in a waiting room. It’s a gray room. Not a yucky heavy gray; the walls, the chairs, the floor—all different shades of gray. There are many chairs in this waiting room. They are in a U shape and I’m stuck in a chair down at the end. The room feels oddly familiar yet I do feel anxious, impatient. Mostly I’m alone, but sometimes other chairs are filled by shadowy forms. This annoys me. I can’t react to them because they aren’t really there. They’re only sort of there. They irritate me with their strange behaviours yet I can’t do anything. I realize they’re figments of my mind. I want them to take off and leave me alone. Sometimes the waiting room empties out and I breathe a sigh of relief.

Phew!

Yet that’s not even the aha moment. Of course I feel tied down. Of course I’m stuck in a waiting mode. No big OMG there. That’s the stage of life I’m in right now with Mom’s dementia. The shadowy figures? I think they are the parts of me I don’t like to acknowledge.Sometimes, when I’m tired I act in ways I don’t want to admit are part of me. Sometimes, when my brain is rested they go away and I feel peaceful. Not too tough to figure out.

No, the aha moment was when I noticed this stage across from me in room of grays. Then I realize the shows playing are snips from my life. Spits and jerks of it. And that’s the AHA reached out and pinged the back of my head.

Most of my life has been spent in that waiting room. Waiting for the next whatever. So focused on what may happen I let what is happening slip by unnoticed. Wishing it away. I’ve been stuck, in that damn chair, in that damn waiting room instead of living all those moments of my life.

WoW!

I wonder what the rest of the book is going to bring?

10 Things worth sharing

{ April 3, 2013 @ 5:00 am } · { Anything and Everything Else }
{ Tags: Absolutely no tag } · { Leave a Comment }

Words from artist Robert Genn on stress-relaxation; Recent research seems to show that a small, but significant group of people need to work because relaxation stresses them out. Apparently some “driven” folks may just have a need to be busy. They have what psychologists are now calling “relaxation-induced anxiety.” (Good to know there’s a condition I’ll never have to worry about.)
My new favorite word: SHITIOUS: coined to describe tax time. I like it as a description for any day that goes sideways.
Good article on being a writer: http://cristianmihai.net/2012/12/29/you-either-write-or-live/
For writers, interesting and educational: http://moodywriting.blogspot.in/
The museum for old, outdated and forgotten art supplies: http://www.forgottenartsupplies.com/?
If you have a fountain pen fetish—boy, is this site for you (If you start to drool the prices should cure that.) http://www.leighreyes.com/
Still on pens—this site is not only fun to snoop through it’s also loaded with how-to videos on most of their products, which include much more than just pens: http://www.gouletpens.com/
Three sites if you are thinking of growing smaller (no, not weight related): http://rowdykittens.com/ http://tinyhouseblog.com/ http://www.tumbleweedhouses.com/
I’ve been learning about how to use binary beats and music, for the brain. Here’s just one of many sites offering a simple explanation of the different brain waves, and entrainment: http://musicyourmind.com/beta-alpha-theta-delta/ Or check out Dr. Jeffrey Thompson’s work in this field at: http://neuroacoustic.com/biography.html.
And finally: http://thejigsawpuzzles.com/ just for a relaxing moment or twelve.

« Older entries

Cay Mayo writes

Christmas In June!

Round 2: Dementia 10, Peace of mind 0

Worthwhile Reads

The nightly news again and again and . . .

I’m back!

Pulling the ink out of the twigs

Back to The Map

Brain in gear. Sort of.

DUCK—here comes another AHA moment. . .

10 Things worth sharing

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