I woke up shortly after 6 am without the benefit of an alarm. My back felt great; my body problems have moved to my shoulder and the right side of my neck, bothersome but not debilitating. I walked Elsa. For the last two days, she has been desperate to eat grass. This was not a problem before I changed her diet. I am concerned that this very expensive food is not the best for her.
On the other hand, I may not be giving her enough food. I added more of her regular diet to the mix this morning. There is no question she prefers her meals when Dr. Marty's is mixed in.
When I arrived at Bikram, I announced that I had folded up my walking sticks because I anticipated not needing them again. I'm confident because I know the problem has moved on to my shoulder and my neck. When I got back from the bathroom, I noticed that Heather's eyes looked red. I asked her if she was crying. Yes, she was so excited about my progress. She came up and gave me a huge hug. She said, "This is my life's work." She gets very excited when she sees people making progress. She is not looking at the asanas; she's looking at our alignment and our overall health. Bikram yoga proved a life-saver for her. She radiates excitement about the process and serves as an inspiration for all of us.
The other day, Crista posted me in a Student Spotlight for the Bikram Yoga Studio here in Kona. I had to submit a picture. She used the one of me and Mike that I sent to all of you of Mike and me in a playful mode. Heather read my post out loud. She asked everyone to post it on Instagram. These posts serve as an advertisement for the studio. I talked about the work I did and how much I valued the community. The latter is particularly true since Mike died.
I have been doing pretty well. I am not devastated by Mike's death. I remember his mother saying that she stopped being a person when her husband died. She was defined by her relationship with him. I was not defined by my relationship with Mike.
In McGilchrist's book, The Master and his Emissary, he says one side of the brain is interested in 'what' questions, and the other being interested in 'how' questions. I am clearly a 'how' person, a person interested in the process rather than the fact of. I don't think I ever completely thought of myself as Mike's wife. It took me a while before it didn't sound strange in my ears, I mean a long, long time.
For me, my relationship with Mike was a process, all verbs. We loved each other; we laughed with each other; we agreed with each other; we disagreed with each other; we ate dinner together almost every night; we hugged each other frequently; we kissed each other frequently; we liked sitting quietly in each other's company; we trusted each other; we were committed to respecting each other's point of view even if we didn't agree with it – even though it was total nonsense; we supported each other; we provided shelter for each other; we celebrated each other's joys; we comforted each other when things upset us; we tried to understand each other (I know we both failed at times.); we celebrated each other's existence daily (birthday's meant nothing in comparison). There are probably many more things: oh, we corrected each other – occasionally, we didn't overdo this.; we strove to be better people for ourselves and each other. I still have occasion to look at things in our life together that gave Mike joy: his kitchen, his library with his 3800 books. Yes, I'm stuck with them now, but I don't mind, yet, because I know how much pleasure they gave him. I wouldn't have had it any other way. God, I loved that man. The miracle is that he had a high tolerance for my love, almost as good as a dog. Hmm! Maybe better than a dog because human love is always more challenging to achieve because we are so much more complicated.
On the TED radio show today, they spoke about love and how destructive it can be, particularly romantic love. Listening to it, it seemed they were defining romantic love as something that happens to you, something that renders you helpless to steer your course. I must say, I agree with that. I was always disturbed when I found myself in romantic relationships that generated obsessive thinking. I never had that with Mike. I felt about him the way I feel about a warm and welcoming fire on a cold night. Delighted. I never lost my center. What I experienced instead was a sense of rightness. For those of you old enough to remember the old coins operated phone booths which dotted New York streets, remember when you could tell when the coin landed correctly and when it didn't? That's what it felt like. There was a sense of rightness.
I don't remember being madly in love with him, but I remember thinking I could live with this man for the rest of my life even if he never changed. He was enough. Mind, there is no way I would date the man Mike was at 33 if I were to meet him now. He did change, as did I. We changed in response to life and to each other, not just each other's needs but our own needs to change for ourselves. We helped each other become better people.
Fairly early on, I introduced the idea of co-creating. This is quite different from compromising. Compromising assumes each person gives up something. When co-creating, the end product is better than either one ever imagined. We both understood the dialectic: thesis, antithesis, synthesis. One of the TED talk speakers spoke about seeing life as a work of art we each create. Does that mean that we're in total control? Of course not. It means that you work with the materials and tools you have to create something new. It is in accepting those limits and working with what is available that we create satisfying lives. I loved co-creating with Mike. He was a worthy opponent, a great partner. As I said earlier, our relationship was made up of verbs rather than nouns. I don't know if I miss him, but I miss everything we did together.
On the other hand, as a result of my life with Mike, I am a much stronger person and prepared to face this life without him. He helped me to become this person—hat's off to you, my love. Rest in peace.
I walked Elsa. When I got home, I thoroughly cleaned the kitchen sink. I have a grill at the bottom of the sink. I love it, but dirt sticks to it, and cleaning it is a chore. Once I finished with that, I set it on the counter. Then I threw poor Elsa into the sink for a bath. It's not her favorite activity. Because I bathe her with a special soap, we have to stand there for at least five minutes before I can wash it off. While I had her there, I took the opportunity to clip some mats that had gotten out of hand. I've been trying to gently pull them apart, but it takes forever. Monday, I'm going to make an appointment for her with the Dog Groomer in town. I wanted to have the mats out before I put her in his hands. Now he'll just have to deal with her lopsided hair cut on her ears.
I spent most of the day cleaning: the stovetop, the kitchen floor, the lanai carpet. I also organized what I will be giving to the Friendly Place. I placed it all in a big box to drop off on Monday. It was a satisfying day.
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