Cackling While I Was Naked

My eyeball is healing. But we’ll be on a few medications, rocking glasses only, and seeing the ophthalmologist a lot for the next few weeks… just to make sure things continue to improve. I noticed the infection early, so there has been none of the agony or blurriness I had to live with the last time my cornea went holey. Alas, no sexy eye-patched pirate this time around.

The last few days were for listening to audiobooks, resting, walking, taking care of logistics, and for running s l o w l y (I did other things too, but they involved cackling while I was naked, and this isn’t that kind of post). My legs and lungs are regaining their strength quicker than I expected. I’ve been good to me—taking a lot of breaks while exercising, even when the pauses weren’t prompted by fatigue; and I’ve been sleeping. I’m following a hybrid version of my former Daily Thirteen, Jeff Galloway’s 5K Training, and guidance from my physical therapist/trainer. I was about to start Week 3 of 15, when my eyeball got its dot… so I’ve decided to start over from week one… on Monday, I think… No rush, right?

I want to thank every Wicked Darling who sent me get better soon wishes and hysterical jokes—you rocketh very mucho and your sense of humor is freaking delicious! My inbox is about to explode, so please don’t think that I’m ignoring you if it takes a bit before I reply.

To those of you who emailed me to ask different versions of: “How did you beat chronic pain?” (perhaps inspired by the fact that I’m running again). Well, I haven’t “beaten” pain. I doubt anyone can do that. I work with mine. Running hurts; doing calisthenics hurts; walking downhill hurts; holding a book in front of me hurts; sitting down, other than on my bed, hurts a lot… But if I keep my arms very close to my body while I run, the pain doesn’t make me lose my balance; if I modify my position when doing crunches, my back gives me a slight break; if I walk downhill sideways, with my strong side turned forward, my nerve pain doesn’t steal my breath… Small consistent compromises work for me most of the time.

Chronic pain is a rather personal thing, methinks. Many of us share the physical throbbing, the emotional burden, and often the rage. But the ways in which our bodies function and fight are different. There is no beating this, at least not for me. Most of my chronic pain comes from physical trauma, so I suspect that things will get trickier as time does its thing. I also know that I’ll come up with new tactics in order to help my mind and body dance with the trickster. This is the only advice I can give: Listen to your body; never allow pride (or misplaced badassness) fool you into believing that you know more than what your body tells you it feels… Then glare a lot and bare your teeth. I do it all the time.

On the writing front, the conclusion of the Laila Flynn web serial shall be published on Friday. It’s already scheduled—no spotty body part can postpone the mayhem. I’m almost done with the first draft of a Lum and Darlene novella, for the second book in the Blooming Howls Series). Oh, and I’ve been having some serious research fun while I learn about the haibun, haiku and senryu Japanese forms of short poetry.

That’s all, my Luvs. I showed you mine. Would you like to show me yours? If you aren’t too shy, that is *cough, cough, cough*. Seriously though, what kind of trouble did you get into while I was gone?

P.S. Feel free to roar at Fate’s obliteration of my recently-born schedule; I did… Then I grabbed a pencil and notepad and drafted another… What if Fate feels the need to murder my latest effort? Well, I have writing supplies galore… plus endless stubbornness to boot.

P.P.S. I shall lurk around your cyber homes tonight… Muahahaha!

TenacityNature’s tenacity, as portrayed by this tree, had me grinning like a lunatic, for at least a quarter of a mile… 🙂

Would You Sprout for Me?

“If I tell you that I love you,
that I built your crib of soil
and have been breathing soul on you,
would you sprout for me?”

I absorbed her given breath,
but held on to my seed coat
the Witch picked me without asking.

“You were our honeymoon baby.
I approached your mother tree,
gave her three scarlet drops and a soul kiss,
before introducing you to my Heart’s music
and bringing you across the sea;

if I show you that I love you,
would you sprout for me?”

I wasn’t forgetting her rude plucking;
but the Witch kept me
nice and moist,
set in the perfect warmth of darkness.
Something inside me began to push…

When I first cracked testa
to show green,
my Witch howled tender breaths
and shook my soil
with the tapping of her feet;

I sprouted for her… just a bit.

Process Note (not on steroids): during our honeymoon, my Piano Man and I ran into a níspero tree heavy with fruit. I hadn’t tasted that kind of yum in over 20 years. I picked a few nísperos, shared them with my love, and saved the seeds. I lost all the seeds but one. The day it sprouted, I nearly lost my mind with delight.

This is what Little Nisp looked like last spring
Nispero Seedling (3)

…his germination photos (yes, I’m sure he’s a boy *cough*)…
Nispero Seedling (1)

…after he sprouted, I reconstructed his seed…
Nispero Seedling (2)

…and here is the big boy one year after he cracked through his coat seed.
Nispero Seedling (4)

***
for NaPoWriMo with Magaly Guerrero 2015, Day 19 – I, Tree: Summon the green within, and write a poem from the point of view of a sentient tree who gets to address his or her keeper. (Um… my entry might have stretched the prompt, “just a bit”, when it comes to perspective and point of view *cough, cough* I need to do something about this— *cough*)

linked to
Poets United, Poetry Pantry 248

I, Tree

When the weather is glorious, as it was today, I love watching the tree line outside my window. In winter, the pin oaks, red maples, London plane trees… are bare; sometimes dusted with snow. When the spring arrives everything begins to bud.

Through the seasons, trees are watching the ups and downs of the New York City public buses, dogs walking their people, things driving way too fast and carelessly to be people, a witchy writer woman smiling at them from a window… or caressing their bark while whispering sweet nothings. I’ve always wondered, what those trees would say if they could speak back in words everyone could hear

For Day 19 of NaPoWriMo with Magaly Guerrero 2015, Summon the green within, and write a poem from the point of view of a sentient tree who gets to address his or her keeper. (I can’t wait to read these poems).

Instructions

* Leave a link to your poem, as a comment. Include the title of your entry, and the direct link to your post. Example: “NaPoWriMo with Magaly Guerrero 2015”: http://magalyguerrero.com/napowrimo-with-magaly-guerrero-2015/. Visit other Wicked Darlings and comment on their yum. They might visit you (it’s polite).

* If you use this prompt, please link it to your post. And if you are feeling extra delicious, link your poem to the main entry. Show others where to go. Spread the word. Linking back to the source will nudge the trees to whisper sweet nothings.