It's not that I don't like being American, or Southern, for that matter. I just seem, well, more Canadian, sometimes than Kentuckian. Maybe it's all the Scots blood. Too bad they get so much snow. :) And I have a thing for Canadian music, television, etc. I developed a deep-seated love of Rush years ago, and tonight I've been both listening to Loreena McKennitt and doing searches on Moxy Früvous (drat...Zabet and her hubby introduced me to them, then went off for their anniversary, and the only think I have to play is one of their songs on a compilation wedding souvenir. I want to hear the "King of Spain"!) But, I did find the following King of Spain for Unix Weenies, so that'll have to keep me until they get back tomorrow.
Oh, by the way, I don't have the puppy. I went over to meet her the other day, and it turns out she has parvo, although she's apparently got a really mild case and they think she'll be okay. I hope so. It'll be three weeks at least before I could adopt her, assuming I do. Oh, hell, we know I will, and I haven't even seen her yet. Sigh. She's 4 months old, black, and apparently looks like a Black Lab with Cocker ears and wavy hair. She has a disposition similar to Cerys. She sounds adorable. We'll see.
There is a young boy who has been working very hard in our area for several years now to help kids with cancer who are stuck in the hospital. I know he's been on some of the national talk shows. Jarrett Mynear created a "joy cart" of toys to help get kids through the pain and isolation of cancer treatment. He'd had several bouts of cancer treatment himself--starting at about 2 1/2 and continuing until yesterday, when he died. He was just thirteen years old--but instead of focusing on what-ifs and whys, he chose to share with others and got out into the community to raise awareness and money for his project. I dare say a lot of adults couldn't have dealt with the things he did--chemotherapy, amputations, bout after bout of spreading cancer--and do something that would touch so many others and leave a legacy of kindness. He kind of reminds me of Ryan White, a kid who became famous for trying to live a normal life with AIDS back at a time when no one wanted their kids near someone with such a death sentence.
I think we need to learn from kids. If you look at the headlines each day--parents beating their kids in parking lots, snipers shooting random people on the streets, etc., etc.--well, these kids help us keep hope for the human condition. We normally hear about the ones facing some terrible tragedy. But the truth is, most kids are pretty cool. They see the world with innocence, but it's not phantasy. It's just sometimes adults get so innured into the hate, the pain of living, whatever, that we forget the magic of life.
Take a minute and remember how you felt blowing dandylion seeds, or how you pretended to be a superhero saving the world. No matter what sort of childhoods we had, whether it was loving or abusive, we all had moments of the magic. If you open yourself up to it, you can still feel it.
I sometimes think that the secret over the last year, in response to my "breakdown", was that I was forced to go back to living inside myself. I know that sounds weird, but the fact is, I'd let myself slip into a routine where I reacted constantly to the outside world without really interacting with it, and I lost all contact with myself. I couldn't remember something someone said even a moment or two later because I wasn't there. I was outside myself, dissociated, wrapped up in the anxiety, and obsession, and self-doubt. I was afraid to be alone, afraid to be myself, afraid to feel at all. Even now, when I start to feel that way, I go outside, watch a spider make her web, or feel the breeze--whatever single focus I need to remind myself that I am alive, and that is what matters. Everything else is just part of that. That's the secret--the thing I needed so much therapy and experience and awfulness to learn. I had to care for myself, to live my life, before I could reach out for others. Jarrett Mynear seems to have had that down early--and was able to reach out and care as a way to live. There are times I feel like I've wasted more years of my life than he had to live. I know that nothing's truly a waste, so long as we grow, and change. But it does make me wonder what he could have done with a longer life. And it makes me feel like it's even more important that those of us who have more time do our best with it.
Yeah, I know, it's a little corny. But so am I. Good night.
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