On the morning that marked the time here for me at one year, the tenth person died. None of the residents knew him, as he was here for only three days – but that doesn’t make his death mean any less, does it?
One year. October 6th, 2011. I have watched nine people die, more than many will see die in a lifetime. More than any would want to see. Two of them, Salvador & Ron, were far more than acquaintances. Thankfully, more people have left on their own two feet.
Very soon now it will be my turn to leave, and I’m not just going to walk out the door – my own death was close enough to make me realize how precious and beautiful life is, and how fragile – and though I’m far from 100% – legs & hands still somewhat fucked … I’ve been given a new lease on life, and I’m going to friggin’ dance for joy out that door!
I have set the date of my exit for November 11th.
I know very little about numerology, but that must mean something, mustn’t it?
A Different Game
This past Friday night I did something I had not done for exactly one year and a day – crawl into my own beautiful, full sized bed. The smell of salt air coming in through the roof vent, the whisper of car tires as they went by, I lit a candle, some Nag-Champa, and took a moment simply to look around and appreciate where I was:
Though there are is one resident, Tuesday, and a couple people who work here, Greg & Paul, Linda & Melanie – that I will come close to missing when I leave (I’m not much one for missing people – which doesn’t mean that I like or think about them any less, , it just seems silly, and almost only a self-centered emotion. Like being sad when people die; the sadness only comes from knowing that we won’t get to spend time with them anymore… more regret than anything else – but I regress…) …I will be absolutely thrilled to leave here. As backwards as it is, this place seems to suck the life, creativity and passion from people – at least people who are accustomed to such a different way of life. Fighting for every fucking word written, wondering why I have little or no desire to create. It made the fight to stay alive that much more difficult. Day in, day out, the exact same schedule, absolutely NOTHING to spark excitememt or passion, nothing to keep the fire that once burned so brightly inside of me lit. An emotional flatline. – I feel as if I’m going to exit this place a shell of who I was.
I feel with little question that if I didn’t have the people I love on the outside waiting for me, that I would have given up long ago.
It is you who give me life. You who gave me a reason. You who kept the fire in my heart burning, even if there were only glowing embers at times.
It will be quite an abrupt change to go back to my motorhome where everything is so different, though it is a change that I’m looking forward to with all of my heart. No refrigerator, (I seriously need to figure out if I can somehow fix that or get it fixed now that so much desperately depends on healthy food) and, dear gods – having to actually take care of myself? Do my own laundry, remember to take my herbs, hope that when I can afford to get some LP gas in the tank my water heater works so I can stay clean and cook good meals, figure out someplace to ship my herbs and all the other good-for-me-stuff I get off the interweb that could forward it to me, wherever that might be if I’m not in town; it will be the white to this place’s black.
Slowly the fire in my heart will be rekindled, I’ll again find the words that were once so easy, and – AND – Cultureflux will again be reborn!
There is so incredibly much to look forward to, and still so very much to do with my health – now begins the fight to completely cure myself of Hep-C, and what I’m looking forward to more than anything – helping other people to realize that there ARE alternatives to western medicine, and hopefully helping them get better – though I’ve already found that’s going to be a bit more difficult than I thought and will take some smacking upside some heads, as some people don’t seem to realize that they are in control…
So much to do. So much life yet to be lived –
and I owe it all to the people out there who gave me the will to live…
I love you all – and with all of my heart, I thank you.