He wants power

He has power

He wants more

And his country will break in his hands,

Is breaking now.

Alkaios of Mytilene, c.620 B.C.
(quoted in Pure Pagan by Burton Raffel)

I don't usually quote other people here, but this little gem was irresistable.

So, I'm finally back, I think. I've been home a while trying to deal with various things that got way behind and new things that came up - like the knee I ran over with a small truck 8 years ago that finally decided it was going to throw a fit about it and refuse to go another step. (How's that for procrastination?) Looked for a bit like there might have to be surgery on it, but now, thanks to so many people sending such lovely healing energy, I'm back on my feet and ready to Have A Good Summer (this is like "getting a life" only more specific - getting my life back.

So, in the next blog, I hope to have new photos and gentle adventures and something (no, I don't know what) fun to share. Cheers, dear people, and thank you for your patience.

From above, wind blows
through Kokopelli's flute unstopping.
On the shore, giants drum.

Three days in a cabin on a wintry shore, wind blowing, water pounding. Somewhere in the roof was a windcatcher, singing sometimes very softly, sometimes loud enough to be heard through in every room, never silent, notes always changing. Plate glass windows showed storm waves piling close by on the shore and foaming up the cliffs opposite. Someone asked last night, was it scary? I said no, it was like listening to the Great Ones drumming, playing. Not human-sounding at all, but poignant, exalting, transcending anything I can say. Tom and I talk for three days and evenings, but our eyes are always on the windows, our ears always listening to the haunting flute behind our words. The conversation is fascinating and easy--Tom has been there, done that with so many things. For the underlying drums and flute, I could find no response but reverence.

For details, see Tom Linton's blog.

I was over there today (yes, I'm still packing and moving!) and the sun almost came out, so the camera did too. Nothing exciting, just a peaceful day in the spring-time forest.

The policy here is to do one eye at a time with about a month in between, so I've had three weeks so far to compare the difference. Through my left eye the world is now a much more colorful and clear place. So I go around looking at things through one eye and then the other for comparison. What color is that rose really? How dark is it really? My computer screen continually amazes me, as does everything else. Last night I went out and walked around specifically to compare the night vision of both new eye and old and am pleased to report that the new eye is better, sees more light, and I'm getting my old unusually good night vision back. Love it! It isn't surprising that I sit here happily looking at the screen and switching from eye to eye, white whites against dirty tan whites. And the detail!!!

As in the closeups with my new camera, my new eye sees all kinds of things I'd been missing. The deterioration in the natural lens was so slow that I didn't realize how much I'd lost. The increasing difficulty with reading street signs and blurring of print, even with strong glasses on, was apparent. But the color and the light! I didn't know what I'd lost! I commented here a while back about not being sure whether it was my old camera, my eyes, or both that was at fault in photos that looked fuzzy to me. Turns out it was both! This is, as my granddaughter would say, soooo cool! In another week the doc will do the right eye and my vision will take another leap into light and color.

Would I recommend this surgery for anyone else? You betcha! Absolutely! Especially if you can find a picky perfectionist to do it, as I was lucky enough to do. I'm still going to need reading glasses - have needed them since I was 16, but both my distance vision and my night vision are back. And when I look through the viewfinder of my new Canon I can see clear and sharp detail. My reading glasses for my left eye have gone from +3.25 to around +2.25. It may still be improving. Before, even with the glasses, it was still blurry and no amount of magnification changed that. Now? Wow!

Yes, I absolutely recommend it. I shall have the eyes of a child again. What could be better? No longer will Megan say, "O, Gramma, look at the beautiful bug!" and me see nothing but a dingy moving blur. I have my beautiful world fully restored.

My Faeries' Oracle card for the day? The Faery who was Kissed by the Pixies! How appropriate! Every morning I open both eyes, then close my right one, and just gloat about what I can see out of the bedroom window. I feel blessed and, yes, loved.

I have to go run some errands this morning, but will get some pictures for you of the cherry blossoms on Megan's tree, if I can, this afternoon. Bright skies to you!

A long time ago,
my grandmother died,
and I realized
that I'd never said
how many things
I'd learned from her,
how very much
I admired her.

She showed me so much
of what I could become.

But to say those things
would have embarrassed her
(and me) to pieces.
She'd have said,
Harrumph.
Our family was like that.

When I heard she'd died,
I suddenly understood
we so often say the angry things,
the jealous things, the things
that don't matter at all, but!
We don't say the loving ones,
the kind ones, the ones
that appreciate. It just
isn't done
to blatantly appreciate
a friend, especially
if they are family.

They are supposed to just know.
It's supposed to
be enough
that we haven't gotten mad
and walked away.

It isn't enough.

Of all of the words
I've left unsaid,
the ones I most regret
are the ones of appreciation.

So...
watch out!
I may say something "nice"
to you. You don't owe me
anything for it.
It doesn't mean I have
inappropriate ideas
about you. It's just my
little truth,
not Truth with a capital "T".
It's probably not even
my final word.

It just means
I don't want you—or me—
to part forever with that
unsaid. And one never knows
when forever is going to happen.
You have been warned!
So brace yourself...

All you need to say
in return is
Thank you for noticing.
It might embarrass me
if you said any more.

I very much enjoyed Tomlin's blog of last night on He of the Fiery Sword from the Faeries' Oracle. Who else would have noticed the sword in the hypodermic needle and the yang of the blood as well as the yang energy of the process and the people behind it? And all the rest of the poem as well. Tom beautifully caught how that energy pushes us—and how we push ourselves and others and the Universe pushes back with it.

My own Oracle card for the day is A Collective of Pixies—ya gotta dance to the music that's playing, but you get to choose your attitude and altitude, even if the music is by ol' Igor Fedorovich Stravinsky. Such a great reminder on the-day-before-the-colonoscopy—I laughed aloud when I saw them. This prep day is not something I'd do for fun... nor is tomorrow morning's process.

At least, this time, they are going to knock me flat out for it. Apparently, 2% of the population has weird and/or unsatisfactory reactions to the anesthetic they use. In spite of having used "enough for two people," according to the doc, they might as well have been using distilled water on me. So, this time, zapp-O!

A friend of mine told me her doc says that the usual anesthetic used for those things can result in moments of impulsive and unwise decisions for months and months afterwards. I do know they won't let you sign yourself out after the procedure—or drive—and warn you not to make important decisions or sign legal documents that day. Seems like the warnings might ought to be more extensive. I made several unusually goofy decisions resulting in losses and near-losses for a couple of months there and still don't trust myself.

This is partly why I've not (yet) decided to get a small pair of Abyssinian sister kittens, even though this house without MarigoldTheBeautiful is like a Hilton Hotel room—soulless and empty. Who would have realized that one snoozy, elderly cat could so completely fill a house? The other part of the reason is that it would probably make me miss her more at this moment than not. Two madly eccentric Aby kittens ... Probably the only thing really holding me back is that they are not actually in front of me and I'd likely have to search and wait and not have immediate gratification so I'm saved from my own erratic impulses... for the moment.

Has anyone else looked at today's astrological lineup in chart form? Sheesh!

Spring reverted to cold, wet, and blustery for a few days. This morning is brightly clear again, but with a heavy ground frost. Still, the primroses on my back porch have been doing lovely, delicate blossoms. There will be photos here (from my new camera!) as soon as I get bundled up warm and out to take them. ... Ok, the flowers are here - primrose on top, and miniature daffodils and white heather on the bottom, all from my back porch garden.

...

People sometimes ask for a photo of me (silly people!) but such photos are as rare as I can make them. However, here is one from last Thanksgiving that I just received from a friend. I look like I just got off my broom after a particularly tumultous flight but really I'd just come from a tussle with a large turkey in a hot kitchen. Megan, smiling as requested by the photographer, was ready for a restful cuddle and so was I.