He sits on a cloud, or in some other lofty realm, his long white hair and beard flowing, looking down at the mortals and their doings. He sends messengers to hand down his decrees and his mandates, and issues catastrophes for their transgressions and blessings for their obedience. He is omniscient… all knowing; omnipresent… everywhere; omnipotent… all powerful. He sends helpers to move obstacles for his believers and allows oppressors to afflict the ignorant. He loves with a jealous passion but smites with angry retribution. He permits suffering amongst those who lack faith, disobey, or live in places of accidental geography. When the people begin to doubt, they are ordered to hold their tongues and deny their rationality on behalf of their belief system, on threat of spiritual death and everlasting torment.

******************************************************************************

He lives at the top of the earth, the pinnacle of the world, his long white hair and beard flowing, and watches his children, at least those who believe, and those who live in the right locations. He observes from on high to determine their level of compliance. He has always existed and is ageless and knows everything they do. He has unexplainable powers such as flight and being everywhere at once. He sends his rewards to the ones deemed “nice” – delicious foods and wonderful playthings, and punishes the naughty by withholding his gifts. He sends his minions to watch from high perches in homes, to police the young ones and obtain their short-lived compliance with their knowledge of his penchant for giving and withholding gifts based on behavior. When they begin to doubt, they are ordered to speak nothing of this, and to continue the charade on behalf of those who come after.

Nearly every weekday, my husband calls me from work, just to shoot the breeze, since we don’t see each other much on weekdays. As we chatted this morning, I was gazing out the window at the lovely spring day. It was trash day. I then noticed the large, wheeled recycling toter at the edge of the curb. But our smaller regular trash can was nowhere to be seen. I went to another window to see it from a different angle. Still no trash can. I looked both ways up and down the road. “Dammit! Our trash can has been stolen again!” I exclaimed, after which ensued a several-minutes rant about What Is Wrong With People and What The World Is Coming To, and me considering posting something on our township’s social media page about it. Hubs remarked that that was an especially nice trash can and now we’d have to shell out another fifty bucks for another one.

Minutes later the mail truck came by, so I went out to get the mail and the recycling can. When I reached the curb, I saw that the regular trash can was sitting between the larger recycling toter and the road edge, completely hidden from view behind the large can.

Often we jump to conclusions about a situation, a problem, or a person we happen to encounter. The slow driver who stops in the middle of the road? Idiot. What is wrong with them? Maybe they’re drunk or asleep at the wheel. When we get closer we see that they have stopped to let a turtle pass safely. The client who is late without calling? How disorganized are they? They need to get it together. When they finally text, we find that their child was suddenly sick.

None of us really knows the problems hidden in another person’s life. Unless you live with someone, you have virtually no idea about their struggles… and sometimes not even then. It is so easy for us to look on the outside and see, oh, they live in a nice big house, so they never have to worry about money. She looks young and healthy; it must be nice not to have medical issues. I have found it a lifelong learning experience to try to accept things at face value without judgment, and detach myself from deciding how I would have done things differently. I try this and fail at it daily. Until the day I leave this earth, I will never be able to stop re-learning this. Let us all remember to look behind the trash cans. 

O Magickal Spring!

Do not tell me that the Earth is not magic, with Her dead-looking forests exploding into a thousand shades of green!

With His impossible sky, Her sweet fleshly soil, Their life-giving torrents!

Do not say that God does not dwell in the bright morning sun, that the Holy Spirit does not live in the ocean miles deep with creatures that glow in the dark!

You cannot convince me that our planet is not a gift of the Divine, is devoid of the Soul of the Universe!

It is as plain as day, as a a baby’s first grin, the tart sweet of a berry, the way my skin miraculously heals itself when injured!

The Creator’s care is in my lover’s arms, the glowing fire, the cool drink of water, the happy achy muscles of a day’s good work.

Sacred lifeblood flows in the rivers, in the ants, in the whales.

Her voice rings in the strings that are strummed, the laugh of a child, the lament of the lost.

Let us savor and rejoice in our boundless blessing!

I don’t know if there’s a God. A Great Spirit, a Creator of all that exists.

I don’t know if there’s a spiritual realm, where non-physical creatures live.

I don’t know if spirits exist, benevolent spirits, angels, come to help us humans on earth; or malevolent spirits, demons, to tempt us and lead us into darkness. Or ghosts, human souls who continue to exist on Earth for whatever reasons.

I don’t know if, when our bodies die, our souls live on in a spiritual realm. Or, if they do, they move on to a pleasant place, based upon our earthly accomplishments or our beliefs or the accident of our birth into the right belief system; or they move on to a horrid place based on our having made the wrong choices or having incorrect beliefs or having the misfortune of having lived in the “wrong” culture.

You don’t either.

We are all agnostics – “without knowledge”.

Some of us seem to think that we do know, one way or the other.

But if we are honest, we must admit that there is really no way to know.

On my better days, I believe in God, and I connect with God and feel kinship and communion with Them. Sometimes I express my deep gratitude for my many blessings and ask God for wisdom, or peace, or forgiveness, or a special favor to be bestowed upon me.

And some days, I just wonder.

I think that religions are mostly humans’ way of trying to make sense of what is unknowable; we are storytellers at our core, and have composed many tales to explain our origins, the meaning of life, and how we should live. But most religions have been used by the powerful as a means to control the masses, with threats of punishment as their weapon.

Many religions are actually cults – when the belief system teaches that its beliefs are the only correct way, that members should avoid those outside their system, and that only their members are righteous and will go to the heavenly realm. Such systems have become so strong that their members are willing to kill and die for them, and have invaded other lands for them. They are brainwashed into thinking they are doing this for the good of all. They are taught that they are actually saving others in the process, and many have good intentions, but the end result is the same – destruction of people, land, and cultures, simply because they live and believe differently.

I think that true spirituality is, deep down, compassion for fellow humans and all creatures as well as the Earth, our only home. Being in harmony with God, or Spirit, or whatever the name for a universal Being, to me, means being in harmony with fellow travelers in this Universe. And the core truth of that harmony is compassion and love.

I find my highest inspiration in the teachings of Jesus of Nazareth. Whether he was God in the flesh, I cannot prove. I think that the religion of Christianity has over-emphasized the belief in his deity and under-emphasized his teachings, the chief of which is love for not only our friends, but our enemies.

A commitment to living in love, with both our friends and our enemies, would be a way that could make life better for all. True compassion could alleviate suffering and help create equitable systems for all people to have their needs met as well as for them to live in abundance and peace.

I find inspiration in many places, and from the teachings of many writers. I cannot fathom that Creator has put inspiration in only one place. The majesty of mountains, the soul-stirring of music, the eyes of a child, laughter of a lover, loyalty of a dog, the power of the ocean, loving arms enveloping you, the rhythm of poetry, the taste of strawberries in June. The deep yearning for healing, the soul crying out in sorrow, the joy of new life. And yes, the writings of prophets, the cadence of psalms, the teaching of an inspirational speaker who is committed to Love.

But it cannot be just one, one thought, one idea, one belief.

Not unless that thought, idea, belief is Love.

I’ve got all the steroids! Maybe I’ll try out for the Senior Olympics!

So the Wizard of Wills Eye says the new graft looks great! Sight is improving in first eye. Should be able to get glasses in 3 months.

It was different this time…rougher in some ways and easier in others. More pain, but I seemed to recover quicker from the anesthesia. Hallucinations are gone.

Having a “glimpse” of vision impairment makes me even more grateful for the gift of sight! What a beautiful world!

Thank you, Healing Spirit, brilliant doctors, compassionate nurses, prayers & vibes from friends and family!

Observations two weeks after a cornea transplant

My operated eye is doing well. Doc says her handiwork is perfect. It can see better than before. (Which is not really saying much.)

Unending gratitude for medical science, the surgeon’s skill, my family’s loving care, friends’ prayers and good vibes, the healing power of Spirit.

When I woke up from surgery, the unoperated eye was very blurry, and continues to be. Apparently my Fuchs’ Dystrophy has completed its destruction of my right cornea. The timing was impeccable. Doc seems unconcerned. My glasses are now useless.

Having blurry vision in both eyes makes everyday life difficult. I am trying to work a few hours a day, take care of my family and home, and do some of my volunteer work, but I can only do a few minutes at a time of eye focusing and that’s all that my eyes can take. Mostly I sit with my eyes closed and listen to music, audiobooks, radio, or TV (go Phillies).

The worst pain so far was my back, from lying on my back for over two days. (If there are problems, it will be even longer.)

I have to take 17 eyedrops each day. The names of the eyedrops like to evolve. Prolensa became Polenta. Bestivance turned into Best-at-dance. Durezol morphed into Duracell, and Cyclogyl changed into Psycho Jill or Cyclops, appropriately enough.

Take caution if your designated eyedrop administrator is a person with dyslexia.

Braid that long, thick hair, or face the consequences.

Recuperation is the perfect time to practice mindfulness.

It’s also a great time to figure out all the music you listen to by ear.

I go back in three weeks for a recheck, and if all is well, they will schedule the other eye.

Hoping to have it done and a little recuperation time before summer is over and our work schedules become much busier.

The swelling must go down and settle before I have an exam for new glasses. So I try to look at my phone with a very large magnifier, and zoom up huge on the computer, left eye squinted and right eye squeezed shut. Things like cooking are difficult. They say I’m legal to drive but I cannot imagine. I would endanger everyone on the road. I am also extremely light sensitive – even more than before. I’m using night vision yellow glasses to type this.

If all goes well, I might see better than before, and my glaucoma might even improve. But there are several types of complications that are possible. Hoping for no tissue rejection and no infections.

There is nothing quite like having stitches in your eye. Or having them removed.

Dogs know. And they care. Cats know, but they do not care. At least mine doesn’t.

Magical things: a shower, yoga, music, chocolate ice cream, walking in the woods, standup comedy, hugs.

“Don’t sweat the small stuff” takes on new meaning, since what you’re concerned about is microscopic.

Doctor, my eyes… Tell me what is wrong… Was I unwise… To leave them open for so long?

In one week, a doctor will open my left eye and remove my cornea and lens and give me new ones. After the healing process, I might see better than before, or I might see worse. I cannot keep my mind from going where it probably should not go. I stare and stare, and look at everything before me, as if it will soon disappear. What would that be like?

The blue of the columbine, the green oak leaf, my mom’s painting, my beloved piano… will it all be a rainbow blur? My dog, my students’ smiling faces, my husband, my son… Will I see my daughter again? Perhaps a grandchild? Maybe I think that if I imagine the worst case scenarios enough, I won’t be shocked or disappointed if they happen, and if they don’t, perhaps I’ll be more grateful.

Doctor, my eyes… Tell me what you see… I hear their cries… Just say if it’s too late for me

My left eye is the worse one – the one that has always seen worse. But it is the better one, in regards to glaucoma. At some undisclosed future date, the doctor will open my right eye and replace its cornea and lens. My right eye is the better-seeing one, but ironically is also the one with worse glaucoma. So I will be living with one working eye at a time. I will be thrilled if I can see at all, or as well as I do now, when this is all said and done. And it may never be all said and done… I may be in for continual surgeries the rest of my life.

Doctor, my eyes… Cannot see the sky… Is this the prize… For having learned how not to cry?

Hat tip: Jackson Browne

A few weeks ago, I began to wonder, kind of out of the blue, if it would be worse to be blind or to be deaf. Completing my tax returns, I noticed the boxes where you check “over 65” or “Blind”. You get a higher deduction if you are elderly or sightless. Apparently losing one’s sight is the worst disability; there is no box to check for deafness, or being paralyzed, or having metastatic cancer. Only age, which happens to everyone, and blindness.

I thought about it for awhile, and, with my thankfully limited knowledge, I decided that life would be much more difficult if I lost my sight, but much of the joy of life would be gone if I lost my hearing (especially being a musician and music teacher).

My father was a doctor and my mother was a nurse. We kids were very healthy and rarely went running to them with complaints. I don’t think any of the seven of us were ever successful at faking sick to get out of going to school. We were well indoctrinated (my dad would have loved that pun) in taking care of our own problems and as a result, as a young adult I put off getting some pretty serious health problems taken care of until they had gotten bad, including wrist tendonitis (have had for over 30 years), herniated disk (had surgery and lifelong back issues), severe sinus headaches, and ear problems. Coupled with having either no health insurance or the hospitalization-only-with-extremely-high-deductible type, I was usually my own doctor, along with, eventually, Dr. Google.

In 2019 I began to experience abdominal pain. For the first time in my life, at 59, I took the bull by the horns and got checked out in a timely fashion. I now had good health insurance (thank you, President Obama). I had many tests and was grateful that nothing life-threatening was found, although a solution has not yet been forthcoming.

Flash back to 2010… I began to have dull headaches with vision that was like a light white fog. Dr. Google kept me thinking it was “ocular migraines”, but the final diagnosis, after weeks of this, was angle closure glaucoma. I had two laser surgeries in each eye, and was left with some damage and minor vision loss and the specter of future serious problems. I had also been taking some things that could have contributed to the angle closure, including pseudoephedrine for sinus issues and valerian for a sleep aid.

A few weeks ago, I decided to get a strange combination of problems checked out. I saw my primary caregiver about the sinus headaches, intermittent vertigo, possible hearing loss, and constant, very loud tinnitus (ear noise), with the request to see an ENT. She referred me for an appointment next week. However, in the meantime I had my six month exam with my glaucoma specialist, and he recommended something I had been dreading for years. Eleven years ago he’d said I had baby cataracts, and when the time came to fix them, it would be complicated by a cornea condition that I have. So last week he said it is time, and that I will need, along with cataract surgery, cornea transplants.

The ear problems will have to go back onto the back burner.

And now I am wondering how I began thinking about blindness and deafness before this all began.

Will I have to endure a series of painful operations?

What happens if the transplants fail?

Will I be able to continue my cherished career?

Will I live out my latter years in darkness? In silence?

If someone had told me a year ago that I would have to close my full-time music studio and move all my students online, losing a third of them in the process, for an entire year, I would have said they were crazy.

If someone had said that I wouldn’t see my daughter for over a year, except for a couple of hours in a state park in the middle of nowhere, I would have looked at them like they had three heads.

If said crazy person had predicted that all of the fun activities in which I normally engaged over a year’s time, such as music festivals, parties, gigs, concerts, beach trips, holiday celebrations, birthdays, and student recitals, would all be canceled, I would have told them to go to hell.

I have never held my 11-month-old great-niece who lives 10 minutes away. My 2 1/2-year-old great-nephew who lives 15 minutes away doesn’t know who I am.

Not one person, besides the three of us who live here, has set foot in my house for a year.

All regular doctor and dental exams have been postponed. 

Friday the 13th of March, 2020. The Day The Earth Stood Still.

I knew that stuff got real when the NBA canceled all pro basketball games. The Suzuki Graduation Concert, a formal affair at Settlement Music School in Philadelphia in which one of my students was to perform, was canceled. Then the schools were closed. And my husband was laid off from his job. And the world, and my world, stopped in its tracks.

I am grateful for the health care workers who did not stop. The grocery store folks who did not stop. All the essential workers didn’t stop.

I have lived a cautious life, visiting an average of two public indoor places a week, with a mask on.

I have watched the waves of pandemic invade and recede, coming ever closer, washing away people on the perimeter of my life… friends of friends, relatives of relatives. I’ve heard medical people I know describe the carnage in their workplaces.

I watched, horrified, the numbers rise…  A 9/11, every day. More dead than in the Second World War.

I appreciate how fortunate I and my family have been.

The miracle of science brings hope ever closer. That proverbial tunnel light is glimmering. I begin to talk of “when I reopen the studio” and “when we go on vacation”.

And yet, as an introvert, this unprecedented time of solitude has in some ways been a solace. It’s been a period of reevaluation, of decluttering, physically and spiritually. Prioritizing. I’ve done more hiking in the woods. Lost a beloved dog and adopted another.

I received my second vaccine dose during this anniversary week.

The Tinn is a din

inside of my head

from the moment I wake

till asleep in my bed

The Tinn is a grating

that’s never abating

for a solution

I sit here waiting

Nails on a chalkboard

constantly screeching

for an answer

I’m forever beseeching

Violins out of tune

sirens howling at noon

dentist’s drill in my ear

loss of hearing is fear

Is it the smoke alarm?

is it the clock?

emergency broadcast test?

— what the f**k?

The Tinn is a violence

praying for silence

makes it hard to function

losing my gumption

The Tinn is a sin

that no one deserves

a godawful noise

that shreds all my nerves

Tinnitus is

torment unending

wait for a treatment

my prayer is ascending