7:50 p.m. - 02/16/02
thank you.
Yesterday there were two does eating in our garden, and when I saw them I was awestruck. I was the only one home and they were right by the window. They looked so peaceful, and I remembered Dwight saying that the gift of the deer is gentleness with oneself, as well as awareness and alertness. That is its medicine.
I went back to the sketchbook that I pour my redlove into, and I made a page for Dwight, at the center of which is a beautiful deer. I look at it and feel so peaceful; it embodies him well, I think - so strong, so gentle...
Tonight on the way home from two doc appts a deer ran out in front of our car and we hit her. The sound of impact was brutal; it was positively heartbreaking. I felt as if the weight of our fucking automobile had slammed with the same velocity into my chest. My hands flew to my eyes involuntarily, and I could not take them down. It didn't happen; it couldn't have. I flipped out when I thought my mom was going to let a trapped (and rather aggravated) wasp die in between two doors last weekend. I don't let things die. And a deer...? I know a deer is no more beautiful than a possum, but the idea that one of the same creatures that had been in our garden was now inches from our windshield, in terrible pain, and we were just driving, driving, driving on...it's unbearable.
I've honestly lost any understanding I had for those who hunt, other than Native Americans, whose rituals with the animals make more sense to me than a quickly muttered prayer over store-bought food. I honestly don't understand, and I grew up surrounded by people who went hunting. That creature *breathed*...that deer...
Dad said there was nothing on the highway when he came home, and I'm told there's no blood on the car...so maybe...
Maybe. But maybe not.
Of course I thought of Tracy. I thought of Tracy and of the night that Charlie and I flew off the road, which I did some major writing about again yesterday. And it occurred to me that I know something I've never in my whole life known: my answer to the "if you could ask god(dess)(e)(s) one question what would it be" question. I wouldn't ask the meaning of life because life itself seems pretty clear to me, surprisingly. I would ask why we are made mortal. I would ask why we create such incredible beings only to see them destroyed. I believe that souls exist beyond time; I really do. But with such amazing bodies and personalities and beings, why is there an end? Why does it happen that way?
I'm going to have to start looking for my answer to this question, or I'm never going to survive my life...
There's more. I find out at Tammy's that I've lost weight, which is an emotionally very confusing thing. I was going to ramble on about it here, but I don't think I'm up to it now. Sufficeth to say that she thinks I'm at a hypermetabolic state, we made some food adjustments, and I feel surprisingly relieved. That relief is scary; I don't want to feel good about losing weight, but I think actually it's just good to know in objective terms that my perception is distorted. I've been convinced I'm gaining weight the past few days, and if I've actually *lost* it, that means I can rest a bit easier, and quit trusting Ed.
Of course, I've also got to keep that perception from eating away any more of those nasty (necessary) pounds.
Here's hoping.
chord
"There is no death. Only a change of worlds."
-Seattle [Seatlh], Suquamish chief
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