A Statue that dissolved one grain at a time

a new essence should start being more apparent. More stable and optimistic than the nature of the past. Ten years ago is the point at which I started closing down not yet realizing that I was letting my self gradually filter away, like a sand timer grain by grain, filtering away like dust slowly molding from the original form of substance to move through a small space to accommodate a new smaller form.
Willingness can dismantle mighty structures. Willingness can offer the oceans to part, holding great bodies of water back so that a stroll in the unimaginable could happen. Even if I was capable of holding back the walls of water, for the sake of the whim of the stroll of the great one. That great one was my husband and I did act as it if he walked on water, mainly because I was not willing to acknowledge and realize my own power. What ever there is of substance I see the future as a place where that substance is purely mine and can flourish.

Plucking the 7th Cord

here i am doing what I do so well, drink & write. Hunkered up in my little caravan, tap tap tapping out the occasional stream of the endless thought. The Loan Cowgirl, if there were such a vocation. A nun was the equivalent option if you were from Europe like me. These exotic prairies of life on the lonesome planes was not even in my broad Scottish imagination. However here I am 46 years later finally resting my cockles in that reality space with a story to begin.
So let me reach into that place. The book of the heart shall now open. Mood and prelude in the 7th chord.

the curious case of Hemlock poisoning

It must be a year now, for the yard is full of tall enthusiastic wildness. Larkspur, Cleavers, Mustard & Arugula, all mingled in with the lacy innocence of Hemlock. Queen Anne's Lace is what I naively presumed it to be. Until someone had pointed out to me some Water Hemlock on a hike up the gulch to gather nettles. The startling conclusion that this was abundant in my own yard hit me. The next morning I was out there pulling up every culprit. Considering all the consequences of what could have happened if one of the kids had ingested any. That night I woke at about midnight with a surge of internal rebellion. I made it the short distance to the bathroom, and had the most violent & vast vomiting session. The strange thing was there was nothing to expel other than bile & nasty nasty fluids. If that had been it that would have been enough. But the vomiting went on all night & through the next day, however from that first moment on I was practically paralysed. So I lay in bed for the rest of the long endless night like a spit bug, frothing at the mouth, wreathing like an overactive amoeba, spitting into a bucket.
My son on rising in the morning knew that something was different. My instant willingness to let him watch a movie, followed by another movie, and then another, made this day one of his best days ever. The sweetest little words of encouragement, 'just breath mum, breath', touched me in the dearest way. Melting a chronic invalid to be emotionally touched deeply in love at a time of great suffering.

I remember distinctly the chemistry of that innocent kind gesture, flooding my body with sweetness. In that moment, it reversed the sensation of illness and weakness. Still now when I think back there is a charge to that moment. A little life changing moment, when a suggestion cracks the configuration and changes fate.

But a weight of common sense also weighs in on the bigger issue. How the heck did so much Hemlock grow in my yard. Why was there none in the neighbors yard. None over the fence in the wash, yet so much all over my yard, around the front door and in the path from the road to the house.
This is practically sinister. However rather than get carried away, I know just to be cautious and wise, and appreciate that out of the depths of a poisoned bed I was touched by the healing energy of innocent love.