Sharing our Humanity

 

flowerseller

Nivia Gonzalez, “El Mercado de Flores”

Two days ago I went for a follow-up mammogram and ultra-sound. Nobody likes to get these things. I always tell the technician a glass of wine would go nicely, sometimes it gets a laugh but I NEVER get a glass of wine.

 

It was good.  I mean, I had a nice time if you can believe it.  As it was a follow-up exam I made a point of telling everyone that actually had to touch me that I have had cancer twice and am now being monitored for a pre-cancer.

“I can understand how you might be nervous because of that.”

It seemed to make a difference, but I can’t be sure if it was a result of the release of tension I probably carry without knowing it or because of the technicians actually showing more than the usual amount of compassion.

I like to say that compassion is not something anyone can own or take as a virtue but an environment that we can share when we let go of the “self and other” mentality.  I have no proof for this and only a vague recollection of experiencing this as my usual internal narrator was absent. The moment, transitory and aberrant has only a tether to my Zen practice which is almost impossible for me to talk about.

Nevertheless my own pressure release of expressing what could likely make me feel separate from other people, (or at least one of the things that so often limits me) did serve to connect me to what was going on and that usually has good effects.

Something else I realized, if you make people aware of your shared humanity, they increasing look ridiculous as they try harder and harder to deny it.  You only have to look at ranting racists on social media who are confronted in a calm but consistent rebuttal by the people they are invested in hating and how they look more and more pathetic, eroding in their rhetoric into petulant potty mouths.  I think it is interesting because they look like two year olds… just a thought…

Nobody should be written off as hopeless.  We all behave like children often enough and yet, like children, given a shared opportunity to learn we can be quite remarkable in how kind, helpful and even courageous we are.  Oh and good news, results in, it’s fine, nothing to worry about. 🙂

the poster was in the waiting room of the breast screening clinic

I am re-blogging my blog

No excuses.  Well, I might have a migraine coming because just the way that sentence sounds makes me giggle.  Inappropriate giggling is one of the signs of impending migraine and also why I don’t drink wine.

And, yes I have to read everything I write out loud, or moving my lips. I have always done this.  It is particularly difficult when I have never heard a certain word pronounced out loud but have read it often.  I read a lot.  But I don’t read particularly well.

Perhaps you now understand why I am re-blogging my blog.  https://quiltingismyaddiction.wordpress.com

Okay it is funny.  Just switch the first letter or first two letters of blogging and blog with a different letter…never mind.   I can’t seem to link to it.  Oh well, you can see a bit of what I am up to, if you care to visit my other site, now that my brain is totally addled.  🙂

 

If you search for beauty you will find it.

While I complain about living next to a main artery for a city ill planned for the volume of traffic it now bares, nevertheless I have admiration for the neighbours who determinedly plant flowers in front of their houses. Other streets that face our traffic, thinking it is only a matter of time before all these little bungalows are torn down for strip malls, give up, park cars on the lawns and stop picking up the refuse.

Yesterday, after a long day spent mostly in waiting rooms, walking home from the bus stop I was transfixed by these. I once did a water colour of them. They are so delicate and yet resilient. The rain seemed to make their feathery leaves glow.

I used to say I had synesthesia, but I think I am just highly sensitive to colour and form. The sensation that arose could only be called happiness.closeupflowers.jpg

I liked the textures in the wet pavement in this photo.