The Exam

No matter the clear blue morning sky, or the bright sunshine piercing from above the horizon, I am nonetheless dreading the doctor visit. At age 57 you would think I would be accustom to the annual check-up.

I arrive a bit early and settle myself into a comfortable chair in the waiting area. Lovely art adorns the walls, there is calming New Age music and hot herb tea. It is as pleasant a waiting area as could be found. Still I dread the visit, and once I am taken to the exam room I know why. Its the chair that so dominates this small exam room room. I think it would be grand to be a man who might have to lay down on a flat exam table, cough a few times, deep breathe...fleeting thoughts.

I put on my gown and get seated in the blue mechanical 'cockpit'. The doctor knocks then walks in. We exchange a few pleasantries while she adjusts the chair backwards. I think I know what it feels like to be an astronaut taking off for space.The doctor does a general exam and takes a pap smear.

As uncomfortable as it all seems, it is these routine exams that are important to ALL women. The idea that a bunch of insensitive old white guys can debate, much less have an opinion about womens' reproductive rights and health needs is unconscionable. They do not and will not speak for me. This is the year that I push back against their absurdity.

Simply

A soulful man walked the path...

Two Peas in a Pod...

if I could be a vegetable

i would want to be a pea

in a pod with a pea

snuggled up next to me.

it would need to be a lengthy pod

for my honey pea and me

to make room for baby pea

in case we made pea whoopee!

Back Then

Radical Sixteen- new school(with girls!), protesting war, smoking pot, interested in the 'classroom of life'.

Well, that's it! All 16 words for this our 83rd week of Saturday Centus. This was a good short exercise, as I like to ponder the past sometimes. It may be apparent to you that the photo is not of moi when i was 16. I do however find it interesting to look at this picture and wonder what I was pondering...did I have some idea as to how divergent I would become from my upbringing, and how troublesome I would become to my mother. Perhaps it was all starting right there at that moment behind that pensive look. Ah...the idyllic and promising 50s would soon give way to the turbulent 60s, and the rest is history as they say. Wish I still had that blond hair ;-)Peace and blessings

Asking for Forgiveness

"We gather together to ask the Lord's blessing", when we should really be asking his forgiveness for abiding a country whose leaders applaud and abet active citizen protest in the Middle East at the same time denigrating and pepper spraying those engaged in such here. We should ask his forgiveness for abiding a situation where an infant in Milwaukee has a 220% greater chance of dying than an infant in Guangzhou China, for abiding a situation where one in five of our children live in poverty, and for abiding a system of law that does not apply to large corporations or the wealthy. We should however ask the Lord's blessings to empower us to change our ways.

Peace and blessings to you all...

http://www.jsonline.com/features/health/economic-decline-elevated-infant-mortality-go-handinhand-in-53210-zip-code-mh2kv7l-133758368.html

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2027013/Child-poverty-1-5-American-children-living-poverty.html

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RGRXCgMdz9A&feature=share

Trapped

Confined in this wheelchair, body trapped by insidious disease, mind trapped by body, I watch the world go by, as I often do from this sunny perch on my porch. I cannot engage the world on my own terms. Sophisticated computer technology enables me to read, write, scan the internet, and look at photographs. I find myself often staring at this one photograph...a group of young kids in their golden soccer jerseys and black shorts, getting last minute instructions from their coach. I wonder about this one girl with her short, wildly red hair, marked by the #6 on the back of her jersey. Half step back from the group, obviously confident, no need to listen. A striker for sure with one mission, to secure the ball on a breakaway and with a confident sharp strike send the ball to the back of the net. Am I reading too much into this picture, which seemingly shows so little? Perhaps, except that I was that #6, confident striker, the one serving up the goals. Now, confined in this wheelchair, body trapped by disease, mind trapped by body, a future entrapped by memory...

If I Die Young

I do not fear

an early departure for me.

It is she I worry about.

This I plainly see.

I will be cruising the cosmos

on gossamer wings.

She will be left here on earth

dealing with my things.

If I die young,

I hope she knows

of the love deep inside

that everyday grows

in me...