The pace of life has been revved up of late and I'm thinking at the moment how nice it would be to stay in bed late this morning, reading my book, watching the sun come up, and writing some in my much neglected blog.  It was sad to put my oldest cat to sleep, but his time had come.  It's always emotional staying with them while the doctor administers the first shot (anesthesia), then the last shot.   Ralph's primary vet did such a good job of treating his early onset of kidney disease that I wanted him to be the one to euthanize Ralph.  He's the only vet I've ever worked with who injects the second, fatal shot directly into the heart.  The first time he did this, even though he warned me beforehand, was quite a shock--he kind of stabbed Adam in the heart with the syringe in his fist, then pushed the top of the syringe with his thumb to inject the lethal dosage.  Actually, the image rather haunted me for quite some time.  I just wasn't accustomed to seeing it done that way.  With Ralph, even though he followed the same procedure, he did it more gently than with Adam, and it just didn't bother me like it did the first time.   I know that with sick animals it can be quite an ordeal finding a vein, and if they are totally anesthetized, the driving of the needle directly into the heart is painless and death is instantaneous.  Still, it strikes me as somewhat unorthodox, which is okay.  We laid him out on the bed in the guest room for the other cats to see, and to prepare his grave in the backyard.  In the meantime, we purchased a toolbox at Home Depot to serve  as a casket, which we wrap repeatedly in wire to prevent animals from ever being able to dig up the body.  We stopped at HEB and got our flu vaccinations.  Then we buried Ralph.  Dale and I openly cried.  It had rained heavily the day before and the digging was easy.  He is the fifth cat to be buried in our cat cemetery.

The next morning,  I woke up with a very sick feeling in my stomach, which got worse throughout the day.  No fever, no nausea, no diarrhea, just pain in the stomach and weakness, which lasted a couple of days.  I repeatedly went over everything I had done and eaten and came up with nothing.  Was I that stressed about Ralph? A couple of days later I attended a yoga class in Wimberley and the teacher said she had experienced the same stomach bug and so had many others.  Why I'm always thinking I've done something "wrong" when I get sick is a testament to a lack of acceptance that things often just happen for no discernible reason.  Why I felt compelled to throw out my homemade Kombucha, to wonder if I was suddenly allergic to flu shots, and on and on, is where I put too much of my energy.  After a quick recovery, I took Pepe to his vet in Round Rock to see what we needed to do regarding his allergy shots, then I got a complete eye exam, ordered new glasses, picked them up a week later, had a 90 minutes massage with a trainee (thank you Brooke!), did a power yoga class and sweated profusely, then went to Peggy's Monday afternoon yoga class.

Our new cat, Greyson, is quite the character and spent the night with me for the first time last night--I put all the other cats in the sun room and was surprised at how well behaved he was on his first night alone in my section of the house. He's a born acrobat, and I need to take some video of him jumping way up off the ground and turning around completely in mid-air. I've never seen a cat do this. I've got to teach him that he cannot continue destroying roll after roll of toilet paper. He's so beautiful, with distinctly dark stripes contrasted with grey ones, exceptionally large paws, an extra long fluffy tail, and a gentle confidence that makes him appear to be smiling when he looks you directly in the eyes. 

We downloaded our "docs" from Holland America and are all set to be gone for 26 days, except that the cat sitter who has taken care of our cats for years has moved on to another job, so I need to interview someone new and make a selection.  We've rented an apartment in Barcelona, then on to Sitges, then to another rented apartment in Dubrovnik, then board the Nieuw Amsterdam in Barcelona for a seven day cruise around the Mediterranean--visiting places in Spain, Portugal, Madeira, then an Atlantic crossing to Fort Lauderdale.  

I can feel the warmth of the sun coming through the window.  I can still feel fall in the air.  I think the burning ban has been temporarily lifted so we may burn more brush today.  There is always so much to do outdoors.  But for now, I'm just going to close my eyes and feel the sun. 

Tasting Fall

At least twice in the night I awakened from powerful dreams that left me feeling deeply sad, alone, and introspective of my life.  As a withdrawn and reticent child, I dwelt much of the time in the land of daydreams.  Houses were always a powerful symbol for me, and I felt that if I could live in one of those big houses I passed on the other side of town as I walked home from school that my life would somehow be so much better than it was.  I wanted many aspects of my life to be better, certainly very different from the way things were at that time.  I wanted to be enveloped in a nurturing environment, one of safety and security.  Even today, when I catch myself daydreaming of moving into a different house, I know that feelings are coming up for me having to do with loneliness, fear, insecurity, and being all alone in the world.  Our fantasies/musings can reveal so much to us.  And so it seems that the more we grow and learn and find our way, so too can those feelings of discomfort  become deeper and more challenging.  We try to direct our lives as best we can, we select a journey, a path, set goals, and do our best, but still, I think we often find all sorts of things happening to us that come as a total surprise.  It's as if, as I dreamt, we are driving alone in a car only to find that we have fallen asleep at the wheel and are supine across the front seat of the car, yet miraculously as we sit up and grab the steering wheel we realize that the car has continued the journey without our being fully awake or aware.  And, there is the symbolism of all those bridges.  I dreamt I was crossing a narrow wooden bridge--more like a pier--only inches above the water, and somehow I managed to stay the course until the moment I reached land, and then the car wheels veered off into water and mud.  Suddenly two people (aspects of myself) appeared to assist--a strong muscled female to pull the car and a male who assisted her.  Never underestimate the power of those healing feminine aspects of ourselves, nor the importance of her opposite.  Always know that there will be times when we are driving in the dark yet have no idea how, if, or when the journey will end, and learning that this is okay, we can let go of the steering wheel and rest and it may very well be the best thing we can do.  Those transformations that we make--physical, mental, spiritual--may require deep focus and concentration, and in the end we may get where we are going but we will require the assistance of our gut, our intuitive selves, teachings, our inner strengths to pull us through. 

Since I turned 60 earlier this year, it seems as though I've been working a little harder at paying attention to maintaining good health--yogasana, diet improvements, practicing more and more on letting go.  Lao Tsu said, "Know yourself.  Know what is good.  Know when to stop." (page 117, Light on Life, B.K.S. Iyengar).  It's all about balance, moderation, and certainly learning when to stop.  Although I try very hard to not judge others, but to be objective in my observations, I do find that I've detached myself in many ways from old friends and family members who seem bent on self-destruction.  There is a sadness in this, but my reasoning is that some people, no matter how deeply I have loved them, are just too exhausting and draining to be around and interact with.  After all, what is more complex than our relationships with others? I recently read that often it is through our silence that we can can best express our truth. I am still pondering that because it does have a powerful message. When is this true and when it is not true? When best to speak candidly, honestly, and assertively vs. when to let our thoughts and feelings stay with us and just be with them without feeling we must vocalize them? 


"As we learn to have compassion for ourselves, the circle of compassion for others -- what and whom we can work with, and how -- becomes wider." When Things Fall Apart, Pema Chodran.


My senses were filled with the beginnings of Fall in the air this morning.  Vata season.  I got a new chainsaw and have been clearing away trees and branches that are too close to the house, trying to create a fire barrier.  The Labor Day fires of Central Texas, 2011, were tragic for so many of our fellow citizens.  At that time, we packed a few bags, brought in the cat carriers, and were prepared to evacuate, knowing we would be leaving behind most everything except our lives.  One of my neighbors, a pistol carrying, Air Force retired Viet Nam veteran, with a car sticker that says "ultra right wing Republican"  has been incredibly helpful, repairing our tractor mower, fixing our old chainsaw, bringing over his farm-size equipment to help in creating fire breaks.  We live in entirely different worlds, and yet we both meet in that area of common ground and interact in ways that really are, at best, sweet and challenging.