Mankle (def; my ankle). 1. Mankle wants a new sock.
Mankle broken: Here in Crestone the joy is fluid and jubilant and huge, but the grief can also be just as vast. We recently added an extension to my studio, oooh it has become beautiful with light and openness. When the main carpentry and building of it was finished I started painting the new walls and floors. As I pulling off a piece of masking tape from the ceiling I fell 3 feet from a step-stool onto the cement floor.
Mankle is all of me now. Foot connected to Mankle, Mankle connected to the shin bone and up we go until we reach our crown charka. Mankle is currently broken, infected and working very hard to keep my beautiful and well loved right foot. What is not beautiful is Mankle, although Mankle is trying with all her almighty grace to be loved thru her deformity, and yes I know she is…. The emotional response might be one of disgust at first sight, but then the absolute love takes you away from fear or sympathy and puts you back into the light of acceptance, the delight of acceptance, and the allowance of grief.
My husband Noah drives us to the doctor’s office every other day. We travel to a larger town than where we live, here in Crestone, to Alamosa CO. Fifty miles of mostly vast desert plain surrounded by huge mountains to the east and west. Snow capped tremendous icons of bravery and spirit. Clouds converging, releasing and washing new miraculous colors you’ve never imaged existing in nature, constantly making swirl patterns also never imagined. Mountaintop meets cloud bottom, mist, anger, sunlight joy. You have seen it in those tabletop photo journals, in your dentist’s office, and on television. The mystery remains elusive and haunting every time I see this, there is more knowing in the mountain than I can ever know!! And it must be the wisdom of the mountain that holds the secrets. And such unknown secrets of earth and the ancient creatures, the giant moss and the iron core lava flow, the winged ravens….
A story, in the City Market parking lot. Or a story in the Walmart parking lot. Or me being in the car, watching. There are also the stories of the people who I am watching. I watch, and then a story comes to me, where they live and what they eat and who they make love to and what about their children, the unsophisticated brother, the amazing sister in law who just won a Pulitzer Prize. So, they come and go from the supermarket, carrying one bag or pushing a cartful of bags and big jugs of laundry detergent, chemicals of every kind, grimacing faces, hungry faces, faces connected to cell phones, hands holding hands, dark hair, light hair, gray hair, no hair, beards, wigs, glasses. I continue watching and in a slightly hazy view I see myself! I am all of them, they are all me, we have no separation for one second. I turn on the radio to hear some music and to relax and rest from all the stimulation of the vastness. I close mine eyes, turn off the radio, close mine eyes again and sleep.
Tuesday, February 19, 2013, 12:52 pm
Hungry. What’s for lunch? Well, I won’t tell you, it is boring to read about other’s meals, unless they are superstar gourmet chefs creating something so exotic and unusual that just reading about makes your mouth water. No, no – mine lunch will be pure vegetables. Nutrition for my soul, if you visit me soon after I’ve eaten then you might catch a glow too.
Sun gazing, most evenings right before sunset. I sungaze for about one minute at this stage. It has been eye-opening and inconceivably beautiful. First I see a dark blobby squiggly shape. It begins moving gently and then a white beam of pure light forms in the middle of the dark, the blackness becomes straight and rests at the sides of the beam, and then the black just disappears and the white beam is entire in its fullness... My wheelchair and I look forward to our sunset adventure together; we have become a team waiting for more light. The light allows me to believe that I will heal. I have searched for it for many years.