Never Gone Splat Yet

1927 illustration. 'Knock, knock," pain calls unconvincingly,
as if it were a neighbor, bringing cake

THE GREAT AWAKENING

When you have friends and they are just a little
crazy, history can slip into complacency and,
there! See? Already you've forgotten to walk
warily, led on by memorable minutes, stretching
even into days, and you begin to think that life
will always be this way and the dilemma is to
choose among the infinite supply of wonders to
investigate.

And then a clap of thunder ushers in a great
awakening and you are Wile E. Coyote being
thrust by his momentum off the cliff into thin
air, defying seven laws of physics, glancing at his
paws and seeing nothing underneath, at last, and,
seeing, plunges twenty thousand feet and crashes
on the desert floor, gets up, intact, shakes off the
dust, and when you see him next he’s had a
shower and he wears two Band-Aids on his
forehead crossed to form an X. He must have
bones of
Styrofoam.

My bones— Where are you, Great Physician?
You must know my bones are burning like the
sparks above a bonfire that has just caught,
flared; and my hair hurts. The weight of air
hurts. I am in a flannel nightgown. This was not
my plan for Saturday, to go nowhere, not even
down the street, the sky so redolent with
blooming things and sweet, clear sunshine, and
I’m in my room, confined to bed. I couldn’t
manage stairs and I so wished to see the pansies,
lemon balm, and meadow sage just planted
yesterday, already thriving in Elaine’s wee
fairy garden.

I have shingles, is the thing, and I suppose I’m
meant to find the lesson in it but my brain’s been
disconnected. I have not made friends with pain,
but it’s persistent. “Knock, knock,” pain calls
unconvincingly as if it were a neighbor bringing
cake. “Oh, you must embrace it,” people say
when they are well, implying that they’ve faced
the awful self-absorption and unmasked the lie
that nothing else exists, or ever will, except you
and your wish to die and get it over with. My
mind says, “This will end.” I know, and I intend
to shoo it toward another victim straightaway
with any luck. Forgive me, Lord. But
Mindfulness says, “Live today. Be present with
“this moment.” Even though this
moment sucks.