The next step

Ah rehab. Who knew it came in so many parts? 

The next step will begin

In a week.

I imagine I will do more balancing,

More climbing stairs.

There is work

To be done

Always more work

To be done

And then some more.

I will breathe

I will climb

I will balance

I will drink water

I will sit

I will do these

All over again.

The next step

Will begin

Next week

ATMs

Today I will practice stairs

And balance in front

Of the kitchen counter

Mind you

These are not easy things

Especially

In the ankle braces

The AFOs

We call

ATMs

Because it is more amusing

That way

And heaven knows

We can use more amusement\

Here.

Balance

Still learning balance. I suspect I will always be learning balance.

I practice balance

So I don’t crack my head

Falling backwards.

I have five more sessions

With the physical therapist,

Six more

With the OT

There is much to learn

All the way around

The walker continues

A challenge

Bongo Board

There is so much to learn from everyone I encounter.  It*s all dialogue.  Yesterday I remembered the Bongo Board we stored in the closet off the living room when I was growing up. I remembered I was good at balancing on it.   The board lived in that living room closet.  The closet also stored the dress-up clothes.  One memory unpacks another.  I remember new things I*ve forgotten.

God sends me people.

They struggle with things,

They dance with things,

I need to weave

Into my life.

When they leave I think

Oh that*s why you came.

When they leave

I think

Until I remembered to say

That one thing

Out loud,

Until you named

That one difficulty,

Until you told me

About that particular

Dance partner,

I forgot.

Yesterday was about balance,

Bongo boards,

And God inhabiting

Everything.

God sends me people.

They help me remember

New things

I*ve forgotten.

Branch

I am getting ready for day two of Domestic Violence Training.  I contemplate the creatures who share one particular branch of the ash tree in back.

This morning

The squirrel sits

On the hawk*s favorite branch.

I wonder if he knows.

I wish I were small enough,

Agile enough

To sit on that particular branch,

Fluff my tail,

Like the squirrel,

Eat breakfast,

Like the hawk,

Fifteen feet in the air

Balanced

On a branch.

Whole small worlds

Sometimes the various things I am doing or reading or listening to, all converge on each other.  I wonder how anyone can determine that a piece of information is not useful.  With all the discoveries in the world, I become more aware of all my knowledge being piecemeal, scattered, just like everyone elses.  Like this, for instance.  If there are different colonies of microbes living on different sides of the same tooth, holding that tooth together somehow... what of the rest?  

The colony of microbes,

Alive on one side

Of one of my teeth,

Is different

From the other side.

The environment

Is different,

One side

To the other.

We are host to several

Millions

Billions

Of whole small worlds.

It*s not just our teeth.

This is nothing like

The time I found out

The host of dust mites

Alive in my bedclothes

In need of my cast-off skin cells.

After all,

I don*t need those cells

Anymore.

There are whole small worlds alive

Bed to bed.

Colonies thrive on my teeth.

Everything lives together

On a microscopic level,

In teeny tiny co-operation

I cannot see,

Co-operation

I can barely imagine

Until perhaps there are border skirmishes

The dentist identifies.

Colonies maintain the balance

I cannot see.

Balance that has been there

From the beginning.

Whole small worlds

I can barely imagine.

Co-operation,
for the most part,

From the very beginning.

Fall balance

I am still looking for balance.  The brain only compensates for so much.  This morning through the rain I see the sugar maples have turned.  In the gray and the rain the contrast is striking.  As I write this the sun comes out for a spell.  There is balance here too.

The sugar maples turned overnight.

They must have known the autumnal equinox

Came and went

Last week.

They had to catch up

Quickly,

Show the gray and rain

A thing or two.

The burning bush outside my office window

Shows red

Through the left eye blur.

Rain and gray seem right

Today.

The sugar maples too,

The burning bush.

The left and right are held in tension

The color in focus, in blur,

They show the rain and gray

A thing or two.

They think there might be balance

Somewhere.

Easter Week, Balance

We pay great attention to walking through Holy Week, the Triduum, go all out for Easter Sunday.  Then comes Easter Week.  And the Sunday we often call Low Sunday.   People are tired.  Heck, the disciples were exhausted.  It took more that a week to allow the Resurrection to soak in.  No surprise they all doubted (not just Thomas).  No surprise Jesus had to walk through closed doors, meet them on backroads, give fishing instructions.  This is the week we begin to get our balance back.

This is the week for balance.

I will practice squats on the Bosu

When I get the chance.

But now

Just as I walked

through Holy Week,

This week is for balance.

This week I walk with Resurrection

In mind.

The forsythia has carried over

From last week.

It still blooms by the side of the road

Lemon yellow.

Every day this week Jesus walks,

Prophesies,

Breaks bread,

Eats fish,

Every day he fulfills Scripture,

No list except the one in His head.

Maybe it*s inscribed

On His heart.

Don*t be afraid

He says

I am alive

He says

You have nations upon nations

To tell

He says.

God will help you.

Wait here for the Helper to be sent.

There is forsythia when he speaks.

It glows gold in the upper room

Where they wait.

It will take the disciples

It will take us

more than a week

To get our balance back.

Never mind the squats on the Bosu

For now.

This is a more serious

Balance exercise.

It requires full attention

Core and all.

I focus on the forsythia

In the living room.

It still blooms

Full bright yellow.