Lots and lots of pain.

I have to write, in my own words, everything that happened during, and after, the hip surgeries I had in January and May of last year, 2015.  So I thought I would do it here and make it public from the beginning.  I will do separate posts about other things I want to write about, but I will alongside write the story of at least one unethical doctor, a very weird pain clinic, one batshit crazy attorney, and me.  And pain.  Lots and lots of pain.

Also, I need to get this written as quickly as possible, so I won’t be waiting for the New Moon and will begin immediately.

 

 

Intention

I intend to, and will, begin writing here again on the upcoming New Moon, which should be around March 8th, but I’ll have to check on that.  Looking forward to blogging again!

 

Top of Blacktail Mountain, Photo by Pamela Breedlove House

This is a recent photo taken at the top of Blacktail Mountain.  You can see the heavy cloud cover, an inversion, which will sometimes  blanket the whole valley for days, weeks even, like it did here.    It was good to be at the top of the mountain where the sun was shining and everything was white and pristine.

The  friend that took the photo, Pam House, came to visit with her sister Debbie and we had a great time playing in the snow and getting above the inversion, which we did the next day at Big Mountain, a ski resort a few miles north of Blacktail.

I still haven’t finished the hunting story, the ending needs to be tweaked.

Long live the grizzly bear.

Devotional

Yellowstone sunset - photo by Pamela Breedlove House

Wolf Moon by Mary Oliver

Now is the season

of hungry mice,

cold rabbits,

lean owls

hunkering with their lamp-eyes

in the leafless lanes

in the needled dark;

now is the season

when the kittle fox

comes to town

in the blue valley

of early morning;

now is the season

of iron rivers,

bloody crossings,

flaring winds,

birds frozen

in their tents of weeds,

their music spent

and blown like smoke

to the stone of the sky;

now is the season

of the hunter Death;

with his belt of knives,

his black snowshoes,

he means to cleanse

the earth of fat;

his gray shadows

are our and running – under

the moon, the pines,

down snow-filled trails they carry

the red whips of their music,

their footfalls quick as hammers,

from cabin to cabin,

from bed to bed,

from dearmer to dreamer.

The Cathedral

Last night’s sunset.

I’m putting the fnal touches on the hunting story and my goal is to have it finished by the end of the week.  In the meantime, I thought I would post this picture; I know it looks dark, but it was getting dark and that’s just what it looked like so I decided not to alter it any.

I love it when the mountains go all pink like that.

Spiritual Turning

There’s still no snow in the valleys and the weather has been unusually warm for this time of year.  Dad came out to visit and he, Brent and I hunted for a couple of days.  Mostly what we did was soak up the good forest energy and enjoy hanging out together.  I feel like I’ve hardly taken a breath since returning from Georgia, but things will be slowing down soon and I intend to spend more time at the computer, being inspired by your blogs and attempting to put my own experiences into words that make sense.

The past two weeks have been an emotional rollercoaster, but one I wouldn’t trade for anything.  The dips, turns, flips and flops seemed strangely orchestrated by a universe insistent on change – a universe that actually wanted me, personally, to change, now.  Synchronicities abound and possibilities don’t seem endless, they seem doable.  A few of them seem actually doable.

Killing that deer seemed to open up a window of opportunity that was there all along, but the glass was dirty and it was hard to see. It’s hard to say how profoundly it has affected me.   I’m working on it, though.  I’m working on how to say it.  If I had to sum up the whole thing so far in a couple of words, they would be:  spiritual turning.

My First Deer

I returned from Georgia on Monday evening and here is what I did Tuesday morning.  I think I may be the most reluctant hunter on the planet, but it was a thrilling, emotional and very spiritual experience for me.  This deer will see me through the next year, providing sustenance not just on my plate, but in my soul.  I had been preparing for this, but I don’t think I was actually sure I would go through with it until I did.  This buck presented himself in such a way that it would have been a sin for me to not take the shot.  I charged the antlers under the full moon last night, offering matter back to spirit with a sincere prayer of thankfulness for her abundance.

Brent was a big hit in Georgia and I’m beginning to think I may be walking beside this cowboy for a long time to come.  Here’s a picture of he and my dad in Georgia, my two hunting teachers, my lover and my father, friends.

Flathead Sunrise

I’m pretty sure the next time I see this view, it will have snowed and I will have missed that initiatory white blanket for the first time in 6 years.  But that’s ok, I haven’t seen Georgia at this time of year in that long and it will be nice.  The cowboy and I leave before dawn tomorrow and arrive in the late afternoon.  It’s a long travel day, but I’m staying until the 10th so I’ll have a full seven days to visit family and friends.  Brent (yep, that’s his name) will return on the 4th so as not to cramp my style so very much.   But I’m glad he’s going and I think I’ll drive him to the North Georgia “mountains” and hit a couple of cool spots in the city as well.  Hmmmm, apple cider and boiled peanuts – that’s the traditional North Georgia mountain fare and I’m telling you IT IS GOOD!

I have something to look forward to upon my return.  There’s a kitten that’s got my name on her and she’ll be moving in when I get back.  The little critter is partially blind and I’m a sucker for the ones that no on else might want.  I think we’re made for each other.\

I realize I am not writing much here and I’d like to tell you the reasons.  First, my computer is on its last legs and is running very slowly so it’s a little frustrating to actually sit down and get a post done.  Second, I haven’t fully gotten with this wordpress format.  I still haven’t figured out how to do some things that were very easy to figure out at blogspot and I’m not entirely happy with the way it looks and can’t get it how I want it!  But now that I’ve started it, I guess I’ll just stick with it until I do figure it out, or they make some improvements.

See how that works?  Sometimes I have to actually write things out to sort out how I really feel about it and what I’m going to do.  That’s what is great about writing to me and as a reader, I appreciate the opportunity to witness others do it as well.  It doesn’t really matter if it’s memoir, fiction, creative non-fiction, poetry or a news article.  Someone works something out in their head in the writing of it and hopefully their readers do as well.

Well, gee, I seem to be rambling.  Below is a photo I took in Missoula last weekend in the backyard of a friend’s family home.  Isn’t it gorgeous? 

Home as Sanctuary

Wow.  This is the view from the apartment I moved into two months ago.  This is also what I call “the cathedral” because it’s where I sit on my deck and let awe overtake me for the beauty of our planet and that I get to be right here at this place at this particular time.  It’s the closest I come to worship and is usually accompanied by a prayer of thanks.

I did not want to move.  I’d finally gotten into a house for the first time since leaving Georgia and she was a beauty.  To me.  But while she was almost perfect aesthetically, functionally she wasn’t quite so lovely.  From leaking pipes to crumbled chimneys, it seemed one thing after another went wrong.  The landlords lived out of state and were less than enthusiastic about helping out with anything.  When it looked like they would not get the furnace repaired before winter I knew it was time to go.  I love winter in Montana, but not without heat!  So I reluctantly began to look for another place.

Ironically, I’ve ended up back in the same apartment buildings where I lived when I first moved here.  But I’m a little higher up and a little farther west and I’m pretty sure I’ve got one of the best apartment views in town.  Still, I wasn’t thrilled about moving.

We were just starting to get comfortable and Kisster got sick and died and then I had to get used to the place without her.  And I think I finally am.  Getting used to it that is.  The advantages are many:  no yard work, no unannounced visits from landlords, no moldy basement or leaky pipes.  I have a dishwasher and a garbage disposal!  I’ve run the dishwasher once – just doesn’t make sense for one person.  But it’s still an apartment and I really liked living in a house.

But what I realize is that home is where I am.  Home is what I make it.  I don’t know if it’s some mid-life thing, but I’ve gotten exponentially more domestic over the past few years.  Who knew nesting was a side-effect of menopause? I like to smell good things on the stove and I like to feed other people.  I think it’s one of the most giving things to do.  It’s spiritual.  I literally feel like I’m embodying the goddess when I’m just doing things around the house  and I often think there’s no more sacred thing to do.  I can’t really explain it, but it seems, well,  important enough.  I’m adopting another kitten.  This one is almost totally blind, but she’s beautiful (beautiful and non-functional, seems to be a theme, huh?) and I’m going to give her a good home with lots of love and food.

But this moving crap?  It’s for the birds.

Request your input

I’ve been a member of a writer’s group that meets once a month for three years.  Due to lots of unforseen events that occurred this year, I hadn’t been in several months, but have attended the past two.  I committed to read in November and now I’ve got to try and do some “real” writing!  I recently became interested in the year 2012 and specifically the December 21, 2012 date.  I’ve done some reading and research and have decided to write on this.

So I’m wondering.  What, if anything, have you heard about this date?  What, if anything, have you read about the whole 2012 phenomenon, and what, if anything, do you think about it?  If you feel your response is too long for a comment, please e-mail it to me at gailnolan2002@yahoo.com.  If you don’t have a clue what the heck I’m talking about, please let me know that, too.

While I haven’t recovered my readership since closing Eclectic Recovery, the readers I do have are all smart, well-read, interested and interesting people so I’m eager to hear from you!  Thanks!