Perspectives

I'm trying to put things in perspective. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't.



While my dear friend, Sally, is fighting for her life on a ventilator, I've been home for a week with a sinus infection and bronchitis. Now, that is comparing apples to oranges. I can breathe on my own. I can drive myself to the doctor and get stronger meds to make me better. Sally is trapped inside herself. Our friend, Amy, said maybe this is all part of a spiritual journey she needs to take. Sally is a "shaman in training." I know she would appreciate and value that thought as I do.



As I do things around the house, as I'm able, I think of Sally. She was with me the day I closed on my house. The first thing she did when we walked in was to check it for security. Sally, 20-year veteran of the Chicago police force, wanted to make sure I'd be safe. Then, with sage, salt and water, we smudged my home. Going to every corner from the basement to the attic and all around the yard, we chanted some lines and added another layer of safety and love to my home. I will never forget to the smudging with her. It was an act of love between the two of us. She was so proud of me for buying my own home.



Breathe, Sally, Breathe.



Sally with her lotions and potions. In my shower I have Tate's All Natural Miracle Conditioner. On our trip to Costa Rica a few years ago with gal pal, Miki, Sally brought along this product she found in a health food store. We marveled over all of its uses. Upon my return home I ordered it, along with the shampoo. It is the only product I have ever used to keep my dry scalp from flaking. How many times I have sat with Sally while she applied different facials to my face, made out of oatmeal or honey or whatever? How many times has she handed me a bottle of lotion, "Here, try this. And, while your at it, rub some on my back." "Smell this, Julie Ann. Isn't it fabulous? Put some on." "Let me give you a manicure" "Here," tossing me a hair brush," Would you please brush my hair? I'll brush yours when you are done!" "Want to go for a massage while I'm there?" "Oh, girl, this is just the best stuff." Try it, smell it, put some on. Oh, Sally - you taught me to pamper myself.



Breathe, Sally, Breathe.



In Sedona we sat in the cold on the vortex, stealing looks at each other to see if we were really feeling the earth's energy. We climbed down canyons to watch the sun dance off the river onto the canyon walls. We climbed in caves to hold ritual. We sat in silence at the condo, each reading books we would pass on to each other.



Breathe, Sally, Breathe.



I take little walks around my small yard, watching the progress of the shrubs and flowers. The weeping crab apple tree Phil bought me several years ago is about ready to bloom. My lilac bush is not only all green, but the little flowers are growing like crazy. Only my Rose of Sharon's are just starting to show signs of life. They are always late bloomers. The neighborhood smells of newly cut grass. A smell Sally and I both like.



Breathe, Sally, Breathe.



I think of walking around Ronora together. The land, so special and sacred. Arm and arm we would walk, enjoying the beauty. Sally would see the woodland spirits, something I was never able to see. That's OK, though. She believes in them and sees them.

Breathe, Sally, Breathe.



Sally told Amy the night before her lung biopsy, that she dreamt of a big brown bear. I read Amy the attributes of the bear totum. Power. And hibernation. Sally is a powerful woman, as well as a soulful woman. Maybe the bear was telling her to nurture her power now and go into a deep sleep to preserve her strength. Sally would appreciate that.



It is the time of renewal, of hope of life. May Sally's lungs find the renewal, that life and give all of us hope.