I had thought that getting a massage from the wonderful woman who has been my go-to massage person for years would have finished off the back and leg pain, and it did, but not for long; it has returned, in spades. I do not understand this, and also don't know how I will be able to sleep.
The concurrence of the first really debilitating pain I've experienced (because of its persistence) with the current threat to our medical insurance system, and a 90-year old friend's return from rehab to her home, points out the vague nature of my plans for my elder-decrepit years. Given the work I did for years with Spiritual Eldering, my flash of hope that I should please die before it comes to that looks mutinous, even to me. Nevertheless, that seems to be my honest response, today.
I've spent a good deal of the day on line, signing, donating, writing---tearing my hair.
This is not an orderly transfer of power; this is a putsch. All the flashing lights and warning signals are there. We better wake up quick; and then pray for the unexpected and brilliant ideas for how to effectively respond.
On a whole other channel, Netanel will be returning to the East Coast tomorrow.
His visit to Boulder has been a pleasure---like family. A good thing for mid-winter.
I will bring him to the bus in the morning, meet with my writer friends for coffee, pick up from repair at the jeweler's a ring from Zalman that I love, then return home and prepare for shabbat.
I am fortunate that all that Zalman and I invested in shabbat together will come to relieve me of the burden of worry for at least twenty-six hours so that my soul can refresh itself.
(Oh, this is such a wise and lifesaving practice: to put the worries in G-d lap for a long day. Surely they will be there for me to retrieve on Saturday night, when I am refreshed and re-ensouled. Maybe they'll be in better shape; I probably will be.)