July 6, 2010
The day is hot, full of sun and blooming flowers. We are all doing various projects, and I am wrestling with a new series of dark thoughts. I am sleeping more and prior to this, my dreams have been quite acceptable, many containing happiness, beautiful landscapes and a whole body. Upon awakening, there has been the “Oh, that’s right” awareness and life has gone on. I seemed to be able to deal with coming back into reality, but in the last few days, there is much turmoil in the dream world, and intense anger. The dizziness and nausea are constantly present with the latter increased through my own actions because I have been eating foods that I have really enjoyed in the past, knowing well that the digestive system will not be pleased. A contrariness of spirit is beating about in my head and where does one go from here? It feels as though I have gone through so many prayers, psalms, songs, mantras, books of guidance and words of wisdom that I could sit and recite for a long time, but the unrelenting continuo goes on, “sick, sick, sick, sick, sick, sick, sick. . .” My energy is such that I can’t even stomp about and grind my teeth in a satisfactory way. It is well that I am not the Queen a la “Alice in Wonderland”, Sanctuary would be a study of rolling heads. And no, I will not kick the dog.
Charles and John-paul are doing their best to deal with this and one of their ploys has been a sudden desire to have a lesson in the making of “Rothe Buns”. We set up parallel bowls, etc., and commenced with verbiage worthy of the World Cup coming from each of them as they pronounced their own natural superior qualities in bun making. Charles’ huge hands were soon incredibly enmeshed in sticky dough with his insistence that smooth and even surfaces were really a sign of dull conformity while wildly stressed and strange shapes indicated an art form. While he was thus carrying on, John-paul would sprinkle flour on his surfaces from above his head, soon covering the kitchen floor with a mist of white even as he produced lovely orbs. There was much laughter that rose along with the dough and upon the second go round they had a nicely edible product. I believe there are plans for more lessons in the making of old family recipes.
We see the oncologist tomorrow, so perhaps we will be able to find yet another door to pass through as we go onward toward the conclusion of this sometimes difficult story.
