The sagas go on and on, don’t they? Started this crucifix series before “the flood”, and why shouldn’t my particular saga have its biblical moments? Because what day doesn’t go by, really, when I’m not looking for redemption in some form or other? I am looking for redemption even on those days when it seems as though I am just trying to get through. I am looking for redemption even on my good days — and by that I certainly don’t mean times when I feel like the master of my fate — but rather I mean days when I have enough wherewithal to entertain the POSSIBILITY of accepting life exactly as it is. But here’s the thing, can one be —
”seeing things and accepting things exactly as they are”
and still find redemption?!! Isn’t wishing for a world in which every mess is an opportunity and every delay, packed with meaning, by DEFINITION, a state of non-acceptance (because, let’s face it, there ARE situations in which there is no silver lining to be found!)
Well, anyway, there D. and I were yesterday, waiting and waiting for ‘the shoulder guy’. It had begun to rain again, a status of weather that, THIS week, provokes a palpable dread. The patients were flying in and out all around us, but D.’s name had not been called at the 50 minute mark (I complained), or at the 65 minute mark (I complained again), until at 75 minutes, after nearly leaving, and after listening to D. ask, “Why am I here?! This is useless”, a few too many times, the assistant called us in. The assistant called us in just moments after I had written in two-inch letters on the intake form, “WAITED 75 MINUTES”, which of course made me wonder — had I written “WAITED 35 MINUTES” on the form 40 minutes earlier, would we have been ushered us in sooner?!! (You begin to see just HOW superstitious I am).
Anyway, I stitched on this piece for awhile, not for one moment asking myself to call in the Christ-energy of patience, or noticing the disparity between image and mood. That’s how irate I was.
After 10 minutes with the doctor (who apologized so excessively I began to feel a little abashed), we scuttled off to X-ray. And back.
And, OMG, the news was a little shattering (forgive the pun). What first seemed (to me) back in the dead of winter as one in a long series of whinge-fests, and then seemed (to the chiropractor) like a separated shoulder, turned out to have been a fractured collarbone. [YIKES!!!] (Healed, already, I’m happy to report).
So, I apologized to D. (although not excessively). Then, after quietly pointing out that the amount and volume of complaints make it hard for me to pick out any particular one as needing extra intervention, D. and I devised a code for ‘this really, really hurts and I need you to do something about it’. Our code is, “Mom, this is an 8.”
This was GOING to be a post about the basement and the progress down there and how the disaster HAS turned into this amazing re-shuffling, re-ordering, and investment in storage units that has me psyched and energized (in other words, it has turned into an OPPORTUNITY). I was going to add something about the dynamics of dependence and understanding one’s personal style of attacking a monumental task (because dear reader, what most of you didn’t know is that my husband was in India for ALL of this, which gave me additional OPPORTUNITIES for learning). Perhaps tomorrow I shall return to that, after another two inches of rainfall, unless, of course, I have my cherry-printed wellies on again and am threading the hose out the back door and trying not to cry.
PS What shows up in people’s readers when I ‘update’ post? I tend to write a draft, publish, and then update typo, by typo, and it would embarrass me if EACh of these appears…
All the biblical imagery and symbolism and now another (threat of) flood! Heck, even Noah didn’t have to deal with two back to back. I have my fingers crossed that you stay safe, high and dry this time.
Redemption and “accepting life exactly as it is”…interesting things to think about in relation to a creative life. As an artist do you think it is more natural to rebel against that acceptance, since everything about creating involves layering, movement, rearranging and change? or is it the polarization of the static and the change that actually creates the art? I am curious about your thoughts on dynamics of dependence too …maybe a topic for another day?? 🙂
You pose interesting questions, Ginny — I can see art-making as a fine-tuned observation of things as they are, and I can see it as you suggest, as an act essentially about non-acceptance — rearranging, layering, etc. I guess what I’m wondering about these days, is the tenacity of the belief that art is redemptive. IS it? Do we just WISH that it were? Is it sometimes and not others? In some artists and not others? If we do it b/c we must, or b/c it pleases us, does that discount its transformative powers?
No pun intended, but we seem to be cut from very similar cloth, as my mind tends to think like yours…. struggling with acceptance, always trying to find the meaning and lesson in EVERYTHING, (despite my family telling me that not everything contains hidden meaning) and I also lean to superstition despite the seeming contradiction to having faith. Thank goodness for a humor! (I love that you wrote the amount of time waited on the form… something right out of my play book as well!)
Kudos to you for finding the silver lining, (a chance to reorganize) in the flood… and hugs for handling that with a absent hubby. Here’s to some sunny days!
P.S. The work is rich.
Oh.. and I am curious about how updated posts show up as well. That just occurred to me the other night for the first time, as I also type, post and retype corrections.
I can tell you that When I look at the blips of blogs that I follow, yours only shows up once a post… but others sometimes show up several times… that makes me wonder why, and how exactly this all works!
Your posts only pop up once. I am always correcting my blog, and never thought about it being resent. Yikes.
good to know, b/c I’d feel like a jackass if it showed up the 400x of editing…