Today my son got about three pounds of his hair cut off. At the salon a woman getting a foil stared with hostility at his before-mop of tangles, a huge multicolored straw bundle of tresses falling midway down his back. When Nels was all finished, another stylist gasped at the change. Parents, you know how it is – those haircuts make our kids look years older. I silently cried into my gratis mocha of the day.
My dog is still crazy-ill – hasn’t eaten in five days, ropy drool and lethargy. The vet hasn’t yet called today to tell me what’s up, after the pooch’s many tests yesterday. And as of this afternoon I am back from the doctor where I received upsetting news about my own condition. I haven’t told Ralph the latter yet.
I am overwhelmed with emotion at the moment while things are in apparent disarray. I cannot wait to see how the Universe is going to continue to support my family and I. Where will we go, ill and broke – and heartbroken? Will I get to support our family with my homesewn work? Will I take a fulltime job in something inspiring – or something less so? Will my readers continue to provide the assistance that has been so valuable in the past? Will we sell our cars and rely entirely on our bicycles? Can I perhaps sell my large quantities of pristine urine to people who need it? (That’s a joke… but I do produce a lot.) Will Ralph sell of his musical gear? I am open and, if not excited, kind of weak with gratitude because I can do nothing but rely on the Universe. I don’t have to be anxious because I’m simply not going to obsess on it – this has become, for today, a minute-by-minute discipline.
It isn’t as if I don’t have tons of shit to work on a daily basis, and Worry does not help. Serious financial straits provide a great deal of opportunity for creativity, and an even more challenging opportunity to not worry nor start investing in a Scarcity mindset.
The sick Me is not so awful when I weigh it alongside the very ill dog and the missing cat. When it comes to that stuff I give up a little, I die inside a tiny bit. I just have to prostrate myself on my bed and cry over that stuff. That’s the best I can do – for now.