Sunday, March 31, 2013

Aragorn's question

Success yesterday and today, in the realm of "colossally boring but necessary." I did my portion of tax-return-preparation, and handed off the package to my wife to tend to her own chunk. Next step: send it to the Tax People, who will polish and submit it. I think we'll get it in just under the Tax People's wire for Last Minute return-submission.

Two things I've noticed about this year's tax effort; first, record keeping throughout the year makes things go a LOT faster. A lot less time is demanded by the "go through the pile of WTF-was-this-for" receipt spelunking.

Also... except for medical expenses, of which lemme tell you, there are plenty, when you're basically laid up and can't really do anything besides sleep, you incur significantly fewer expenses. Of any sort. Which, I suppose, is a good thing. Leaves you more cash free for, oh, I dunno, medical expenses?

Tragi-comic as always, the Neurological Highway is.

Joe Straczynski was known to frequently quote great artists who said "The devil is in the details. So is God." Well, it does take an inordinate amount of theological introspection to discover God lurking in the details of one's tax return... but there are certainly many, many details in my experience of traveling the Neurological Highway.

Getting a lot of focus, currently, are things that can be categorized under "My legs are different." One time, I walk across the room, and I feel like more data is moving between my legs and my perception of them. "Better," one might call this. A little later, I walk across the room, and the walking is significantly more difficult than usual. "Worse," one might call this. Why the differences? As Aragorn often asked in the Lord of the Rings, "Who can say?"

Last night, I got up in the middle of the night, having taken several hours earlier a specific formula that my herbalist was especially excited about, and the feeling in my legs was "Oh man, something very different is definitely going on." Neither specifically better nor worse, but clearly very very different. Was that good? Bad? Who can say?

Good thing that I've been getting so much experience with "hang on for the ride." I think I've put enough mindfulness into it that I can fairly call it "getting practice," rather than just "experience." But, as the saying goes, practice makes permanent; only perfect practice makes perfect. So, something else to work on: mindfulness; specifically, walking with mindfulness. Which, you gotta admit, beyond any Zen-esque benefits that might accrue simply by being more mindful in general, mindfulness in walking will (I hope) reduce the number of falls and pulling the TV off the shelf and onto myself and cracking a rib. Again.

But, my legs? Getting better? Worse?  Who can say?

Will that question ever really be answered? Well, as the 1960's Batman ended its episodes, "Tune in tomorrow—same Bat-time, same Bat-channel." And tomorrow: Will an answer present itself? Who can say?

Thursday, March 28, 2013


A day of discovery.

Wife and I took some time to visit the local Arboretum. Lovely springtime flowers, lovely fresh air. A lovely cool breeze, full of the scents of the Arboretum's many flowers. And peacocks, many of which were strutting enthusiastically for peahens (who were uniformly unimpressed).

It was a wonderful afternoon trip; one which we haven't done enough, and need to do again. And again. And again.

I'm still negotiating the waters of "gotta sleep now now now," feeling especially energy-free. Which is too bad, since there's music that I at least think that I want to write... but doing so requires sitting in the studio and thinking and creating and doing all sorts of non-lying-down-and-sleeping activities.

Also something that I noticed within myself today... the very-large-air-quotes-"walking" is doing very poorly. Worse than ever; every day is worse than the day before. I nearly fell over taking the wheelchair out of the back of the truck, something I've done time and time again without almost-falling-over. My wife pushed me all around the Arboretum in the wheelchair; she did so in very good spirits, which certainly felt good, that she felt so good, even while she was being of such huge assistance to me...

But I'm so very, very, very low on energy, I started wondering today... does this what old age, end-of-life-old-age, feels like? The slow, dissipating every day, evaporation of ability to do anything... Now please be reassured, I'm not "contemplating" anything, but I must admit, I have been thinking about giving away precious possessions, making sure that the people that I care about that I know will enjoy these possessions for their own sake, get them... Such contemplations are hardly taking over or anything like that, but thinking about "Time to face up to 'time to say goodbye to activity X' " and "It's time to admit that I'm never going to use that again, why don't I give it to someone who will;" I don't know that I really want to come out and say "This part of my life is over" but given what I'm able to do, plus the feeling that M.S. or not it is time to say goodbye to said activity, and what few abilities I have are fading slowly, slowly, slowly, always fading...

My herbalist says that M.S. has often been called a "withering" disease, in the Chinese-medical circles... and that it is, oh yes, that it is.

Now, let me reassure you: Am I depressed? No! Am I sad? Well, don't know if it's denial raging to the fore as it does so very very easily, but at the moment at least, no... but I am getting very, very, very quiet.

A side effect of (admittedly overdue) meditative introspection, and emotional/spiritual housecleaning? Something I've been doing a lot lately... Well, perhaps, perhaps...

A side effect of needing to sleep all the time? Also "perhaps." I'm trying to approach the "Gotta sleep now now now" as simply "Body wants it, give the body what it wants, the sooner it gets enough of what it wants, the sooner it'll stop demanding more of it." The I-gotta-have-answers part of me probably won't be happy until said answers are positively delivered, but... even knowing what it was about, what's there to do about it?

And also... then again, what do we M.S.ers have to continually face, no matter what our symptoms are? And of what must we remind ourselves?

Hang on for the ride. Do the best you can. Enjoy what enjoyment is given you with as much enjoyment as you can. And laugh. Always, laugh.

As the anime series Kino's Journey said, "The world is not beautiful. And therefore, the world is beautiful.

But... Neurological nonsense notwithstanding, the world is beautiful.

Wednesday, March 27, 2013


Oh, the things that have happened, to very roughly paraphrase Dr. Seuss...

The TV adventure, an update: MD looked at my rib, said that yes, it's cracked, a little. Two choices: Bind it. Or don't. "Most people don't like the way it restricts their breathing," he says. Try not to drop another TV on it. Be gentle with it. Wait. It'll heal in its own time. And kudos to my chiropractor (who said basically the same thing, all the same things) for having enough sense not to try to adjust me at a time when ribcage-elasticity is a low (if not risky) point.

Monday evening, I was actually getting "dental-anesthesia-grade" numbness in one of my legs. "Oh great, something's gone wicked over the edge," I'm thinking. That didn't last more than one day, fortunately. My legs still don't work so good, I still can't feel things so good, but at least "roaring with numbness-as-numbness," they're not (at the moment) doing.

I'm still dealing with the "I've gotta sleep now now now" that has been plaguing me for... oh dear, I think we're well into "weeks" at this point. Last week, my MD/acupuncturist said "It's no wonder, you've got such-and-such an acupuncture-treatable condition" (not exactly what he said, but that's what it meant, basically), four needles and poof! That problem's gone. This week, I do not have said "acupuncture-able" condition, but I still have the gotta-sleeps, just like last week. "So, it's not the block that caused it last week, so what's causing it?" I ask him. 

"I don't know," he says.

Well, sometimes both Eastern and Western medicine have no answers. (Oh, sleep might simply be what your body needs right now, why not give your body what it's asking for? There's an interesting idea...)

Now, here's the big thing... Earlier this week, I talked about Deepak Chopra's "21-day Meditation" program, and about the day where he said we should direct love to the parts of our bodies that are in distress. Because, after all, don't we like receiving love, especially when we're in distress?

So last night, as I sat outside banging down my medicinal herbs and enjoying a wonderful full moon and the cool spring-night air, I felt like... it was time to be honest about, and with, my M.S. Yeah, I know, I've said time and again, M.S. doesn't "exist," but I felt like I needed to be honest, and extend gratitude and love.

So, I took some time to really look seriously at not what M.S. did to me, but what it did for me. To be honest about "I'm not sure I can say 'thank you' for causing me to hit the ground and pull the television off the shelf onto me and break a rib," but at least I was honest about it. But rib-cracking and ground-hiting notwithstanding, there were many things that I had to speak the truth of, and then say to the M.S., "I owe you for that one. Thank you."

They were hard, and painful, life-changing moments. Life-changing to the point of "The life that was... is over." Over as "over" gets. As "over" as death gets.  And yet, I had to be just as honest as to say... "I owe you for that one. Thank you."

Changes that needed to be made. Really really really needed to be made... that very well might never have been made were it not for The Disease; and the roads that I was on (that it removed me from) could very well have ended very, very, badly. Changes that I needed to face. To "cop to." To make.

I am not yet able to say "thank you" for everything that has come to me through The Disease; as Corrie Ten Boom quotes her sister Betsie in her book The Hiding Place, to "thank God even for fleas." Oh, there's quite the list of bodily mis/mal/odd-functions that have definitely not (yet) brought me any spiritual enlightenment, any spiritual... anything. But some of the biggest, nastiest, most difficult-to-face life-that-I-was-so-attached-to changes were indeed the most important to make... and for that, my tweaked nervous system and whatever else got tweaked by the M.S. Highway, I have to say...

I owe you. Thank you for bringing me to meet that change, to make that change.

And now... now, I can even extend love to my M.S. At least... a little.

Deepak is right. We feel better having love extended to us. What goes around, comes around, right?

Payback isn't always a bitch.

Sunday, March 24, 2013

Something worth trying

Two very different things to talk about, this week.

Well, let's see... Wednesday, I was "walking" across my house. My legs went out from underneath me, I started going down, and I must have grabbed at the television... because it slid off its shelf and landed on top of me.

Now, the good news is certainly that because it landed on top of me, I broke its fall, so there was no shattering of anything. And it turns out, the TV is completely fine.

After all, like I said, it did land on top of me, it's no wonder nothing (inside the TV) broke. Fortunately, my wife was at home and she was able to lever it up enough for me to get my not-particularly-functional-under-the-best-of-circumstances-legs out from under the set, and I was able to sorta/kinda/eventually scoot away. Thank goodness for the kind neighbor who came by and picked up the set, so we (especially I) didn't have to trip over it all the time.

Because my hands were occupied trying to stop myself from falling over (and not doing very well at that, certainly), I couldn't actually break my fall, so I wound up halting my fall via my chin.

End of story is: As far as I can tell, nothing (TV or me) has broken anywhere. I'm seeing doc tomorrow about a nastily sore spot on one rib, but chiropractor said it was maybe maybe maybe, at worst, damaged only slightly, and treatment for kinda-cracked ribs is very simple. If binding it makes it feel better, bind it with an Ace bandage or something like that. If binding it makes it feel worse, don't bind it. Wait. In the meantime, try not to drop another TV on it. So we're back to the usual prescription: Hang on for the ride, make the best of it, and... wait.

Now, a couple of days following this, my wife and I come upon the day's meditation offered by the Deepak Chopra Meditation Challenge. The "centering thought" of the day involved something along the lines of how my body is—his exact word—"perfect." ("Oh, really?" says the guy with M.S. who just dropped a TV on himself when his legs gave out.) But he also spoke about how if we met someone else who was suffering from anything, we'd try to comfort them. We'd offer them love. And said we should do that to our bodies, especially if they were in distress.

In the days I was working with the Science of Mind folks, they'd often say that we may gripe about how nice it would be if the universe were perfect... but it is! It works absolutely perfectly. Our problem is, we don't like the way it works out. Send negativity into the universe, and it responds quite perfectly, sending negativity back to us. Quite perfect, in the way it works... if we choose to utilize that perfection in injurious ways, well, that's on us.

But it is amazing, given how much "malfunction" we're oh-so-painfully aware of, even given the way our bodies don't work correctly as far as we're concerned... but yet, we're still alive. That's a pretty darned good machine, our body, to work at all given what it's dealing with. Sure, I wish I could use my feet well enough to play the organ again, but my feet work well enough to get me to the bathroom. And given what's not working in that department, having anything work at all is actually... quite nice.

The last bit of Deepak's challenge is certainly worth thinking about. Let's direct some love and comfort towards our malfunctioning nervous systems. Extend love. Extend sympathy. Extend comfort.

Feeling positive is good for us (good for anyone) anyway, and if there's anything that needs love and comfort, it's our screwball nervous systems. It's amazing what they are able to do... perhaps a "thank you" might be just what they need.

Will something come of it? Who's to know? But, putting yourself in a mood of gratitude, of charity, of love, of sympathy...

All positive, no untoward side effects. Probably worth trying, y'know?

Tuesday, March 19, 2013


Copping to changes is... interesting... Odd that it should be so "interesting," given that the universe is rife  with "change," certainly life is rife with change, but somehow, we (I) find it all ... interesting... Or easy. Or impossible. But always... interesting...

And always with those three dots: "... Interesting..." The "interesting" bit always begins, and ends, in silence. Which should be a lesson unto itself, but that's for another day.

Some changes, we accept immediately. The cat was eaten by a raccoon. (Happened to my cat, a few years ago.) There was an earthquake and the plaster got cracked, or the chimney collapsed. There was a storm and the river overflowed its levees, and the water filled up pretty much everything we called a "city." The easy-to-accept changes don't have anything to do with us; even in our wildest dreams, there was nothing we could have done about it. (Recriminations are a different problem. But "accepting?" That's the easy part.)

Some changes we don't want to accept, but even in not-wanting-to-accept them, we know that we have no choice; what happened, happened, and there's no going back. You tanked in that course because of the choices you made, and your transcript will always bear that scar. The person you were on the edge of asking to marry you, dumps you. The person you were hoping to ask to marry you winds up marrying someone else. A dearly-loved one dies. Nothing that anyone could do about it, certainly not you... at least, after it had happened, there was nothing you could do about it (see especially "tanked because of your own choices" or "you got dumped").

Areas of shared responsibility are cloudier, but one must eventually cop to one's own part in it. Lover-dumpage, for one (foremost to the front of the line is lover-dumpage, there are always things that actually are your fault). Separation from one's beloved school... well, if you graduated, that's definitely partially your "fault," but people rarely use that word; still, the separation itself can be hard. Separation from one's beloved employment is another, especially hard when one's employment was much loved (by you, at least). Even if you (I) are only partially to blame, still you (I) are/am partially to blame, and you (I) gotta cop to that. We have to cop to that, or else we're choosing to live with the pain. (Telling the truth even just to ourselves is somehow more painful than carrying the pain of non-acknowledgement/acceptance around with us... interesting...)

The M.S. world is especially cloudy. Are the scleroses gonna form? Who knows? When they form, where are they gonna form? Who knows? When they form where they're gonna form, what's that going to mean to your nervous system? Who knows? Are they gonna go away? It has been known to happen, not often, but it has happened, after all the nervous system is inherently (to some extent) self-correcting. Who knows?

But we (I) have to come up against the truth of the moment. Somewhere on the web (I wish I could cite it more precisely, but I just plain don't remember) I read someone speaking about releasing the past, and they said something to the effect of "Those people in your past? They're all dead. Those people you're imagining in your future? They don't exist. All you have, all you ever have, is now."

And the cloudiness of the M.S. world is very, very... interesting...

Oh heck, I'm gonna stop glossing this over by saying "we" all the time, speaking of "copping to it;" from here on, I'm just gonna talk about "I."

There are many things I can't do right now, things that I used to do without thinking, things that I loved doing. The first of those left me because the places changed (people who used to hire me retired, their replacements had no interest in me, or new management had a Better Idea and I wasn't needed). Many beloved activities left me because I simply lost the ability to do them (playing the organ, for the most painful example). I pretend to maintain a "positive attitude" with "Well, today I can't, but who knows, maybe tomorrow it'll get better, I don't want to shut the door permanently because we really don't know, blah blah blah, M.S. has after all been known to just up and get better, blah blah blah..."

And we M.S.ers are always encouraged (bullied) into "not giving up." And we--screw that, I-- love saying "I'm not really 'giving up,' it could come back, I don't want to shut the door permanently, blah blah blah blah..." Well, Jesus could come tomorrow. The world could end tomorrow in global thermonuclear war. Magnetic poles could shift (a favorite childhood terror of mine). A gamma-ray burst could lash out of the stars and obliterate us tomorrow. The graveyards are full of people who prophesied things like that happening "tomorrow." Clearly... they didn't.

But only a fool fights ab initio un-winnable battles. Some things are just-plain bigger than you are, and you're gonna lose, so don't bother. Has nothing to do with "right" or "wrong" or, God knows, "deserves." I know all about "I can't win now, but I can win if I work hard enough, and it's definitely worth the fight." Well, some fights cannot be won. They just can't. No matter how hard you try or how hard you believe in yourself or ... anything. They cannot be won. They just can't. As the computer said in the movie War Games, "The only winning move is not to play.")

So, for me, it's time to face "The past? It's dead." The things I used to do, activities with which I used to define my life... they're dead. Time to cop to the truth of ... death.

Now, does that mean that "They aren't going to come back"? Actually, yes.

What comes "back" won't be something coming "back." It will be whatever is arriving for the first time, when it arrives. It won't, and never will be, and never would have been, what I used to have/do, no matter how much I loved it. It'll be something completely new. Similar, maybe, but... brand new.

This is cutting the umbilical cord... to what used to be. The child can't truly live their own life until that cord is cut.

Ending creates beginning.

Time to cop to the truth of endings. Until the ending has truly, and meaningfully ended, part of which being that ending having been processed, acknowledged, accepted even, and released... beginning can't even begin to begin.

"It's over" is the first step of "it begins."

...Interesting... isn't it?

Saturday, March 16, 2013

Officials maybe... who can say?

Trying to find whether there's a pattern in my gotta-sleep-now-now-now attacks.

Morning is just fine. A lunch actually around lunchtime, today.

Then, head quickly to bed and stay there. For quite a while.

It seems to be happening systematically during the hours of the Small Intestine official.

Does that mean something? I don't know.

The job of the Small Intestine official is "to ensure that only that which is good, pure, and worthy of consideration gets through to the Heart."

Well, considering the spiritual "house cleaning" I've been doing recently, I wouldn't be surprised if the Small Intestine official is working overtime. Oh, you damn betcha I'll be talking to my MD/acupuncturist/spiritual advisor at my next session on Monday. In the meantime...

More sleep. More housecleaning. Tote renshu kyudo, air, and sunlight, all three of which were especially wonderful today. Keep banging down medicinal herbs.

And... then what?

As Aragorn often asked in the Lord of the Rings... "Who can say?"

Thursday, March 14, 2013

Weird synchronicity

Our day began with today's offering from the Deepak Chopra "21 Day Meditation Challenge" (OK, I got started with it today on day 4, but that doesn't matter.)

Today's meditation was about proclaiming, and claiming, perfect health.

Two thoughts quickly flashed before me...

#1: Yeah, right. (That ain't gonna work...)

#2: Why not? (What's stopping me besides... me?)

So... indeed, why not? We MSers find ourselves constantly, continually, roped into "trying" all sorts of things categorized under the rubric of "thought to do xyz," many of which plumb new depths of "nasty" when spelunking through the caves of "side effects include"... And really, neurological nonsense or not, which one of us ISN'T our own worst ... everything?

So... why not. Grab it while you can. Nothing required more than an open mind, a few moments of quiet, and as Star Trek always began, a willingness to "go where no one has gone before"... In this context, to unexplored space indeed: Within.

Or, as Buzz Lightyear was wont to say, "To infinity, and beyond!"

Star Trek, Buzz Lightyear, and Deepak Chopra.  Now that's synchronicity... of the weirdest kind.

Wednesday, March 13, 2013

Easy; preferable, even

Journeying through the jungles of disability "coverage" is never dull.

There seem to be only two responses elicited by every communication; either "That's nice" or "You suck."

Just got another notice from the "Social Security Advocator group" that the long-term disability-insurance company my former employer contracted on (they intended) our "behalf." Well, they navigated the Social Security application process for me very nicely, with ease and aplomb. Definitely fit into the "that's nice" category.

Then, various communications from various parties start to wander in. Each one of these seem to be very concerned about making it easy for me to send them money. If, perhaps, Whatever Entity has erred and paid me too much, or money has somehow entered my possession (floated to me in a bottle delivered by the ocean, there are all sorts of ways that Other Money can arrive and somehow Disqualify Me from getting a payment from people who have been contracted, and paid for, providing me with funds should I become disabled), they all really really really want me to know Just How Easy it is, and how Many Simple And Enjoyable Ways There Are, to give them back money that they've for whatever reason already paid me. Y'know, because we get disability insurance to cover us in case we get, y'know, disabled.

Now, I can appreciate that there are those who have tried to "leverage" their "disabilities" into get-rich-quick schemes, and that much of the systems are engineered to make that difficult or impossible. Alas, when one actually is disabled, it seems very difficult to convince people that one very much "actually is" disabled.

Like the "waiting period." There's always a "waiting period." To which I always want to ask, "Oh--so that's just in case the multiple sclerosis gets better after I tried to claim it as the reason for my disability."

I also often want to ask "What part of 'as far as anyone knows, it's incurable' don't you understand?"

Just proof that I don't belong in law or politics. Like there was ever any doubt about that...

Dealing with The Disability Insurance Machine makes dealing with malfunctioning nervous systems seem... easy.

Preferable, even.

Monday, March 11, 2013

Well, here's some spiritual and physical and spiritual musings...

I've noticed that some things are definitely working less well than before (even "such 'working' as they were, which wasn't much" taken into account). The easiest one to share is locomotion... it's barely able to be called "walking," but I am able to huge-air-quotes-walk, in a way, in certain conditions, given certain assistants such as walls, railings, or the side of my truck. Yesterday, I felt it failing, little by little.  But failing. Other things seem to be stopping, or have stopped, working, but I'll spare you those details. Trust me, you don't want them.

And the interesting thing is, my reaction seems to be...


Denial, I've got down to a science. An art form. Denial, I know what that feels like. This isn't it. Is it... "acceptance," the polar opposite moral force to denial? Well, inasmuchas I'm not nearly as familiar with that, I don't exactly know what it feels like. But to be a moral "force," I'd think that it would have more "force." Denial has a whale of a force, acceptance to be truly its opposite should have the same amount of power, of... force. But what I have is...


Am I not engaging myself and my experience? Am I engaging them, but am merely not taking effect from them? Have I already accepted the condition, and thus don't feel the change as the acceptance's force meets the condition? Is it all of those? Is it none of those?

Dunno. Later today, I'm seeing my Medical Team. They always have very, very good ideas. And probably, at the end of it all, I'll just be saying...


Not "Oh well," just "Oh." If I learn something worth sharing, I will. If I don't learn something, I guess I'll wind up going through it again. Now, that one is definitely...

"Oh well."

Friday, March 8, 2013

The "hard" part is...

A sake-pairing dinner, with the most amazing dishes being served after dinner.

Just to clarify for those who haven't done it before, a "sake pairing" offers a series of dishes, paired with a series of sakes. The objective is to observe, and with luck enjoy, the synergy of the food and the sake.

One of the most enjoyable non-gustatorial parts of this event at this particular restaurant is the "get to know each other" conversations, during and after the "official" part of the dinner.

Sitting next to my wife and me was a very interesting couple, who it turns out only lives minutes away from us. (Well, "minutes" when you're traveling by car... we're at the bottom of the hill, they're at the top, but let's stick with "minutes away" in the non-walking world). It turns out they're psychic/energy healers, who suggested I look into another local who does yoga and has attributed her being nearly-symptom-free to that yoga (plus a very strong dose of positive thinking, which never hurts).

At the end of the evening, on our way out the door, they and I had a very interesting exchange, which I'd like to continue with them later. I can't repeat their exact words (not because of confidentiality, because I don't remember the exact words) but at the bottom line, it came out to this:

You're the only one responsible for "you"... and don't argue for limitations.

A five-minute conversation after a sake-pairing dinner becomes an invitation to an interesting bit of, as my beloved timpani teacher used to call it, "rigorous personal self-inventory." Exactly what part of "I can't do X" is that "X" (whatever "X" happens to be, within this particular investigation) fits within the category of "actually not possible," what part is "don't want to," what part is "don't want to but I'm going to blame it on something external that has nothing to do with me or my  disability but I like blaming things on it because it's easier than actually taking the responsibility for doing something about it."

And especially interesting is when the "limitation" is a limitation that I'm arguing for. A limitation that I am fighting to maintain, because having a "limitation" means it's not my fault for being limited. It's the limitation, not me. Not my fault! Not responsible! Can't be responsible—it's the completely-external-to-me limitation!

But if I really want to find where this particular investigation leads me... it starts with honesty. Which, even I, the King of Denial, have to admit is 100% within my abilities, neurological nonsense and all.

In John 18:38, Pilate asks "What is truth?"

It's the easiest thing in the world. And the hardest. And whose choice, whose responsibility, is that?

The truth is... the answer to this one, we all know. The hard part is... admitting it. Not admitting the knowing... admitting the truth.

Monday, March 4, 2013

Sensitivity; enjoyment

Nature... life... is always changing.

Astronomically, there are four seasons, marked by the equinoxes and the solstices, and those days are marked at amazing places like Stonehenge.

In the five-element system (as is true with many other systems), there are five seasons. We are currently entering into the season of Wood, which is invested with the power of birth and renewal.

My kyudo teacher says that in a traditional Japanese view, there are more than a hundred seasons; which works out roughly to a different season every four days or so.

But, I gotta say, although I'm quite convinced of the changing Elements in the five-element system... I think my kyudo teacher is right. Seasons change more frequently than four or even five times a year. They're always changing.

So, my fellow travelers on the Neurological Highway, I suggest that it's time to leverage that hypersensitivity that came with our neurological accessorization...  and go outside, and feel the season. Breathe the air. Enjoy the sun. Feel the wind, rough or gentle.

We became more sensitive. Let's enjoy it.

Friday, March 1, 2013

Metaphorical coincidence

Well, here's the good part. Music writing is actually happening, nice and easily. I do have to stop every now and then to lie down and recharge, but no sleeping-all-day episodes. Awake and getting stuff done, and said stuff seems to be getting done quite reasonably well.

And here's the not as good part. What I call "walking" is, at best, wall-walking. I'm not needing a wheelchair to get around the house. I even managed to retrieve from outside a 3-gallon water bottle, manhandle it inside, muscle off the top, and put it on the dispenser. Without splattering its contents everywhere. This, was a victory.

But even the wall-walking is doing quite poorly. More poorly than usual, and that's never encouraging.

Is the challenge specific to today? Is it... the beginning of what little "abilities" (large air-quotes around "abilities")... disappearing? Some people have classed M.S. as a "wasting disease" (as in "wasting away"), with my huge-air-quotes-walking abilities diminishing steadily as they seem to be, one can easily understand why they call it a "wasting" disease. The Official M.S. People would probably call what I have "primary progressive," but I think "wasting" captures it better.

Or is this just another temporary "hang on for the ride" challenge? Like I wasn't hanging on to pretty much everything, anyway, see above under "wall-walking"...

Fortunately, I'm still able to make it around the house without having to use a walker or a wheelchair, without using even a cane (as long as there's a wall or other steady object handy). I can get a cup of tea. I can traverse the distance between the studio and the bathroom. And air-quotes-walking badly even as I am, I can still, eventually, make it around the house. And, not being in any sort of hurry, taking it slow and easy is no problem at all.

This evening, I'm going to lay back for a while and rest. Have some tea. Then, I'll go back to the studio, to accomplish whatever I can get done for as long as I'm good for working at it, this evening. But that's just the music. What about ... walking? Air-quotes "walking"?

Wait and see, I guess... the way we survive everything on the Neurological Highway. Hang in there, keep your spirits up, what happens happens; meet it with calmness. Because, certainly, not being calm about it ain't doing anything for anybody.

As I've quoted before, Robert Heinlein said that the way to ride a tiger is to "hang on to its ears and try not to fall off."

Well, my grip strength has been unaffected... and interesting metaphorical coincidence, isn't it?