I know a woman and her husband who I think would appreciate the telling of epic tales. Perhaps even this one.
The other day I was driving through the small backstreets of my neighborhood on my way to a large street then to a huge freeway to get to work. My caffeine dose was well titrated and I was in that obnoxious awake but relaxed and centered post coffee pre-work zone. A minivan came up on me quickly and a glance in the rear view mirror revealed an agitated bearded man who was pounding on his steering wheel in frustration at the audacity of my driving the 25 mph speed limit in this neighborhood filled with kids. He even honked at me. On another day I might have stirred his crazy by slowing down a smidge while remaining steadfast to my course. That day, as I was in the obnoxious awake but relaxed and centered zone, I pulled over and let him pass. A random act of kindness, perhaps? He zoomed by me, circled around two cars waiting to turn right at a stop sign, and the last I saw of him he was crossing a double-yellow line to get to the head of a line of traffic at the stop light to get on to the huge freeway. While watching him disappear in a mini-crime spree of traffic violations, I wished him well and hoped whatever was happening in his day got better……as well as thinking he was an asshole and hoping he had a “challenging interaction” with a police officer who issued him a ticket specifically for being an asshole.
A few morning commutes later I saw this same driver in our neighborhood looking much calmer & following all the traffic rules including speed limits, stop signs and demarcated no-passing zones. I wondered if maybe he was not a card-carrying Asshole after all, if maybe he had been having a particularly bad day, if maybe there was an understandable reason for our previous encounter, maybe that moment didn’t reveal who he truly was. Maybe.
I am in one of those narrow metal tubes filled with strangers flying home from the could-not-wait visit with the close-relative-who-has-Alzheimer’s disease (See the post “Ouch”). For some reason, this morning’s early flight is crackling with anxiety and rudeness. I wonder why? Of course in the midst of this there is a core group of pleasant people, as well as those who are clearly amused by the high crankiness level. I am in the clearly amused group as I watch the anxiety & rudeness, and I wonder why it is like this today?
There have been a few times in my life when events stacked up to take me far outside my normal stream (I have an epic tale of trying to get home from work in a record breaking snowstorm that includes disabled buses, exploding transformers and walking passed a car engulfed in flame). Whether the series of stacked-up events take me to a vast ocean with huge swells or land me in a stark desert, I find that I am so far from my own stream that swimming as normal becomes useless. Despite this fact, I often continue to flail about futilely, splashing and sputtering, going absolutely no where until the tide changes and I find myself, through no action of my own, back in familiar waters where I am a master swimmer.
On those occasions where I realize that I am Not In Kansas Anymore and give up attempts to use my standard strokes to escape the circumstances, the strange world I find myself in (whether vast ocean or stark desert), becomes less pressured and less frightening. I somehow become more in that strange world even if that world includes chaotic, horrifying, heart wrenching, grind-your-teeth-to-the-roots stressful events, as well as providing me with an opportunity to truly embrace the absurdity and genuinely laugh at the strange land in which I find myself. This trip I am returning from on this plane with the cohort of anxious and rude people was one of those occasions where I was far from the stream I call home.
The primary purpose of this trip was to improve the living situation of the close-family-member-with-Alzheimer’s disease and in turn help a close family member I hold dear who has provided care for her for too long. I also ended up interacting with a number of other family members, including other family members I hold dear, trying to bring something to their worlds which did not grow there easily. I have come away with another epic tale. There were no disabled buses, exploding transformers, or cars engulfed in flames, but it was an epic tale nonetheless. Heroic deeds were accomplished, dragons were flushed from their lairs and faced in the open light of day, an old lady was moved to a more appropriate living situation.
Even with the dragons and heroic deeds, this would hardly make a truly epic tale, so the Universe added a cascade of tragic-comedies to make it a tale worthy of telling someday. There was the adventure of getting lost and being found in an Emergency Room 2 hours later with the mystery of how did she get there (Answer: She called 911 from a pay phone. Who knew pay phones still existed?). While waiting with her in the ER, because once you enter the Gates of the ER there is no escaping for hours, I heard a doctor tell a women in her 50’s she was having a heart attack and needed an emergency surgical proceed right now; watched the dynamics unfold for the multi-generational family of the grandfather next door who might not make it through the night as the mom tried to convey the importance of this to grandchildren who were sullen at being pulled away from their social activities; it goes on. Amidst all the beeping and advanced technology, Emergency Rooms are fundamentally human places, where we often find ourselves laid bare and vulnerable to much of what is so raw about being human.
Adding to the circus of the week were a visit to support a young relative who appears to have his act together as he ironically completes a short prison sentence; interceding in a domestic disturbance including calling 911, interacting with the police, and trying to support a family member I hold dear; and challenging an angry young man…..who was drinking…..and who was seen the day before with a loaded gun. [I am often not the brightest of humans when the Universe takes me on adventures, although I do have a great story about getting Not Robbed in Brazil].
How did I get here? Seriously, after all that, now this? Oh, Denizen of this Odd Space, is that really the life choice you want to make right now? Perhaps you should take advantage of my offer for you to take this in a different direction before the police arrive? I practically vibrate under the stress, and find myself giggling at the unlikely absurdity of it all.
It was also a week with many opportunities to perform daily RAKs, so I had that going for me. Much winning!
Ah, but back to the center ring of this circus: The close-relative-who-has-Alzheimer’s disease! Exacerbated by the stress of changing living situations, her Alzheimer’s flexed its muscle and put on an impressive display of classic Alzheimer’s symptoms. There were demonstrations of a wide array of pervasive hallucinations and delusions, confusion, dense memory deficits, mood swings, the emergence of near and distance past events which shape a life. And also my awareness of her ever increasing fragility and child-like manner she takes toward the world. There was the opportunity for me to strive to be fully present for expressions of deep sadness, fears about the very safety of the world, anger and betrayal. To be present for Cruel Words targeted to those trying to help her most. Cruel Words which stung deeply, not because she had said them (she is no longer herself) but because they were Cruel Words I was already saying to myself. Even as I knew the accusations were not reality, the sting hurt. A lot.
On the final day, I found myself standing quietly on the covered walkway leading into the new home of the close-relative-who-has-Alzheimer’s disease, talking with an older Hispanic gentleman who is also a resident. Shyly and with a soft voice, he repeatedly told me he had served in Vietnam for a “1000 years” and had received a Purple Heart medal. He had seen me several times during the previous few days but never returned my hello or smile. I tried to be there as he smoked his cigarette down to the filter. I listened closely to his story. I believed him. He smoked another cigarette and then retreated back inside as one of the most intense thunder storms I have ever seen descended (and I am no stranger to intense thunderstorms). I stepped back out of the direct rain, but stayed on the porch. I tried to be as fully present as possible to the 30-degree drop in temperature right before the storm, the gale-force wind, the crack of thunder so close it immediately followed the lightening, the bits of rain & hail that reached back into my sheltered place to touch me, to how cold I was, standing there shivering, watching the streets flood. I tried to pay attention to and be as fully present as possible for all this fury, as I stood quietly on the covered walkway leading into the new home of the close-relative-who-has-Alzheimer’s disease.
Sometimes the events stacked up, you find you are no longer in Kansas and it is terrifying (Who covered their eyes during the Wizard of Oz when the Wicked Witch showed up? Show of hands?). But that is what makes it interesting, hilarious, and EPIC(!!), even if sometimes you do cry yourself to sleep. You take a foolishly large bite of the wasabi the Universe offers you, your sinuses explode, water gushes from your eyes, it stings like Hell, and it Shocks you awake. And maybe an opportunity to appreciate the humor and sadness that is happening in a different part of the world, far from the stream we are each comfortable in.
A lot happened this week, a lot happened that I don’t understand. Don’t know if I ever will. I know I had an adventure that may prove to have been an Epic Adventure as I absorb and ponder the lessons the Universe offered, and of course craft my story (I do love a good story).
In the short run, while waiting for my connecting flight back to my stream, I was given the Super Power of being able to walk around and actually “see” what was happening in a big, busy airport. Our fellow Flesh Puppets do some hilarious things.
