Not medicine hat, like the horse, but medicine head, like the TV ad. Mucinex, 12 hr Sudaphed, Zyrtec, Advair... and oh yeah, ibuprophen to help stem the headache. Medicine head, indeed.
What is the liklihood of someone who lives in the Bluegrass State being severely allergic to Ky Bluegrass and Meadow Fescue pollen? I mean, seriously. You have to laugh!
But hey, at least I'm not allergic to horses...
And this acute phase will only last a couple of weeks. As with everything else, "and this too shall pass".
But wow, until I get used to being back on this slew of medications, scattered will be the word of the day!
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Sunday, May 16, 2010
A heavy fog is shrouding the farm this morning. I can hear the frogs in the pond I cannot see, yet it is there. I cannot see the neighbor's house, yet it is there.
The horses' hazy outlines are visible through the mist, and I am filled with such a sense of peace. I wanted to sit down on the (very) wet chairs and drink in this sensation. Peace, stillness. I can't see any other part of the world except my own, at the moment. And what I see I beautiful.
The question is.. how do I get back to this "place" when the world is visibly whirring around me wildly? I do realize it's still whirring around crazily now, I just can't see it. And that's what makes all the difference.
Hm... I guess this is why some people do drugs or alcohol.. to make the rest of the world go away, but I'm convinced there is a better way.. plus, life is too precious to miss out on by numbing it away with drugs.
I read in a Siddha yoga book about visualizing the world as a large Ferris wheel. It's going to keep spinning around crazily.. the key is to visualize yourself crawling down the spokes, and making your way to the hub of the wheel... where you sit steady and calm, and the rest of the world spins around you. I admit I have used this visualization before, and it works. The key is using it enough that it becomes a practice. I'm not yet there. I still have to remind myself often that I don't have to keep sitting out there in the passenger car. That I need to make the effort to get up, crawl out of that swaying seat out on the edge, and fight my way down to the center of the wheel to where the stillness and peace lies. When I remember to think of this daily, the task is easy. I've fallen away from it for a couple of weeks in the hustle and bustle of life, and it took the awesome stillness of a thick morning fog to remind me how good it feels to be here. I'm so grateful for the fog this morning.
Now if I can just learn to deal with the concept of uncertainty in a healthy manner... ugh. That's for another blog....
The horses' hazy outlines are visible through the mist, and I am filled with such a sense of peace. I wanted to sit down on the (very) wet chairs and drink in this sensation. Peace, stillness. I can't see any other part of the world except my own, at the moment. And what I see I beautiful.
The question is.. how do I get back to this "place" when the world is visibly whirring around me wildly? I do realize it's still whirring around crazily now, I just can't see it. And that's what makes all the difference.
Hm... I guess this is why some people do drugs or alcohol.. to make the rest of the world go away, but I'm convinced there is a better way.. plus, life is too precious to miss out on by numbing it away with drugs.
I read in a Siddha yoga book about visualizing the world as a large Ferris wheel. It's going to keep spinning around crazily.. the key is to visualize yourself crawling down the spokes, and making your way to the hub of the wheel... where you sit steady and calm, and the rest of the world spins around you. I admit I have used this visualization before, and it works. The key is using it enough that it becomes a practice. I'm not yet there. I still have to remind myself often that I don't have to keep sitting out there in the passenger car. That I need to make the effort to get up, crawl out of that swaying seat out on the edge, and fight my way down to the center of the wheel to where the stillness and peace lies. When I remember to think of this daily, the task is easy. I've fallen away from it for a couple of weeks in the hustle and bustle of life, and it took the awesome stillness of a thick morning fog to remind me how good it feels to be here. I'm so grateful for the fog this morning.
Now if I can just learn to deal with the concept of uncertainty in a healthy manner... ugh. That's for another blog....
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