Well, it is time to make it up as I go along. A term I often use to describe my method of building something from scratch. New, used, sometimes borrowed materials and tools in hand plus the belief that it's possible to do. I did not say when such a proposed idea will be finished because my life has yet to succumb to any ruler, yet finishing can make life more comfortable and fun.
So Mokihana's and my Relationship includes the life skills, love, early childhood training, compassion, exciting possibilities, trust, individual and mutual choices, care and share, willingness to be attentive, supportive, belief in continuing education, kindness, occasional goofy/crazy, joyful, plus love of the universe. Keeps us busy and it turns out prepared us to live with EI and MCS. Like a swinging pendulum, living in a world saturated with chemicals/smoke/mold/cat dander/incense/perfume and cold, we travel back and forth everyday from involvement with everyday life to isolation from it. The impact of an unexpected sudden exposure is unpredictable and often confusion reigns. I use the overly protective response and Mokihana will establish her boundaries while we muddle through when the world is swinging the pendulum faster than normal. With our love and all the above, we rely on our Relationship to slow the reactionary responses, smooth the unevenness into calmness and resort back to taking all the increased amount of necessary steps living with MCS demands. Time consuming to the point of it having a life of its own because short cuts will restart the cycle all over again. The Relationship is the arbitrary/solidified, go to/fall back and expected/fulfilling life's gift, that together we have nurtured with Akua's guidance.
Borrowing from other chemical sensitve's life stories and learning through our daily experiences, I trust Mokihana's decisions of what is healthy for us and what is harmful. In return I had to gain Mokihana's trust that the choices I make will not compromise our fragile existence. Lots of good intentions has posed the most challenges to our Relationship. I have become more sensitve from living this chemical/fragrance free life so I also participate in occasions of brain fog, sometimes causing unnecessary exposures to us both. These episodes have had a devastating effect me and I struggled to recover when most often time would heal. Trying to determine the meaning of being dependent on each other and responsible to ourselves requires a calm open way of communicating with each other. Knowing we can settle into a time for listening and sharing our feelings makes life so enjoyable for me, "time it is time it was a time of innocence"
The lessons have been learned only now waiting to be followed like me wearing a mask when subject to an exposure.
Pete
Showing posts with label changing relationships. Show all posts
Showing posts with label changing relationships. Show all posts
Friday, January 21, 2011
Friday, February 26, 2010
Dust
It was not a night for long sleeping. Perhaps the double feature of Sherlock Holmes and the movie The Girl in the Cafe had something to do with activity the prevailed upon my time of restoring sleep. Perhaps it was the chat with my son. Perhaps it was an example of how Pisces affects the dreamers like me, stirring the dreams into the waking sector of the night while being fully awake. When I was first woken from sleep it was the hard pinging of rain outside the cracked window that niggled. "Oh, you can ignore that surely." I tried to convince my woken dreamer. Shutting the window tight did not cease the stirred consciousness. I climbed from the futon, Pete lay asleep deeply. The rain had indeed begun. Smiling to myself the thought of the snap peas we had set into the freshly tilled community garden in Lowell drew a grin onto my face. We hadn't watered them yet. The clouds did that for us, and I thank 'em! Dressed in my night shirt I unlocked the front hatch, slipped into my boots. Glad for my glasses already in place I stepped consciously on the wet wooden steps. The dust from the short night of sleep washed from me, and I rounded the back of the vardo to find the Denny foil we use to cover the tires from their out-gassing. "When did that blow free of the wheels?" Asking no one but my own dear self, I picked up the foil, the offending receiver of rain drops and tossed it under the trailer.
A small thing like this is a magnifying glass of accomplishment for this old gal. In the years of our flight from this or that, I have been too weak or debilitated in some way, to do such small and comforting things to comfort the two of us. It has been Pete who shouldered the fix-its and dos. I climbed the stairs with an acknowledgement ... "Well done, old gal." I said to myself. Believing I might be able to reclaim the night of sleep I nestled under the silk comforter and sought sleep. As I said in the beginning, the dust of dreams was stirred into the inbetween times and instead of sleep there was an inventory of my present come to give me a call.
A small thing like this is a magnifying glass of accomplishment for this old gal. In the years of our flight from this or that, I have been too weak or debilitated in some way, to do such small and comforting things to comfort the two of us. It has been Pete who shouldered the fix-its and dos. I climbed the stairs with an acknowledgement ... "Well done, old gal." I said to myself. Believing I might be able to reclaim the night of sleep I nestled under the silk comforter and sought sleep. As I said in the beginning, the dust of dreams was stirred into the inbetween times and instead of sleep there was an inventory of my present come to give me a call.
Friday, December 4, 2009
These are our people
I have many cousins. My brother and I grew up with cousins during a time in Hawaii when neighborhoods and valley life was simpler. Through my eyes today, the joys of being a kid in Kuliouou Valley, on Oahu seem simple and yet I knew even then how complicated grown-up life was. I was born a sensitive little girl with antennae finely tuned and emotional feelers ripe for taking on others energy. Having groups of cousins who lived in different parts of the island of Oahu during the 1950's gave us something to look forward to and other kids to stir the mix.
My dad drove a beauty second-hand station wagon in those days, a navy blue Nash Rambler. In every way it was the perfect car for a two-kid family like ours. There was the back seat that flipped down so we could watch the movies at the Waialae Drive-In ... gone today of course and in its place a storage unit builder. We rented space there in our wanderings and yes I thought of those old Drive-In days. The old Nash took us around the old Pali Road to Kailua to be with our cousins who had a big pool and the sandy access beach. Our cousins, these are our people. Another set of cousins (10 of 'em) lived in the same valley as we ... I remember the Saturday morning cookie baking routine that took place in their house. Like a well-greased kitchen baking cookies for 10 kids once a week seemed like such a different world to me.
The small kid times lay a foundation of connection that served us well for most our lives. Once inseparable during the early years, the difference between us grew and the complexities of our parents' kuleana foibles, short-comings and illnesses widened the gaps. The subject of 'these are our people' is something Pete brought up last night. He'd been thinking about this for a couple days, remembering the weeks we spend camped on our cousins' lawn in Lanikai on O`ahu's Windward side. Forty years later, I was spending days and nights with one of those cousins who had been my kid-time foundation. The six foot six inch giant of a cousin keeps a home with his partner of decades, his youngest daughter and a six year old granddaughter. When we were new to the lawn there in Lanikai, the neighbors would walk within inches of our Subaru camp/home. Behind the yellow Hawaiian print curtains that created a fragile yet real privacy screen for our sleeping quarters, Pete and I established our temporary place. The neighbors were very accepting of us. Most met our gaze when we rolled out from behind the curtain still sleepy from our night in the car. One morning, "C" greeted us with her cup of hot tea as we woke from the night of sleep. Her neighbors were walking past at the same time. "Hi, how ya' doing she said to the neighbors as they walked." The neighbors stopped to chat. My cousin as I recall never skipped a beat as the neighbors looked from her to us. "Oh, these are our people," she said. We were their people, and we felt cared for.
Who are your people, and who considers you their people?
My dad drove a beauty second-hand station wagon in those days, a navy blue Nash Rambler. In every way it was the perfect car for a two-kid family like ours. There was the back seat that flipped down so we could watch the movies at the Waialae Drive-In ... gone today of course and in its place a storage unit builder. We rented space there in our wanderings and yes I thought of those old Drive-In days. The old Nash took us around the old Pali Road to Kailua to be with our cousins who had a big pool and the sandy access beach. Our cousins, these are our people. Another set of cousins (10 of 'em) lived in the same valley as we ... I remember the Saturday morning cookie baking routine that took place in their house. Like a well-greased kitchen baking cookies for 10 kids once a week seemed like such a different world to me.
The small kid times lay a foundation of connection that served us well for most our lives. Once inseparable during the early years, the difference between us grew and the complexities of our parents' kuleana foibles, short-comings and illnesses widened the gaps. The subject of 'these are our people' is something Pete brought up last night. He'd been thinking about this for a couple days, remembering the weeks we spend camped on our cousins' lawn in Lanikai on O`ahu's Windward side. Forty years later, I was spending days and nights with one of those cousins who had been my kid-time foundation. The six foot six inch giant of a cousin keeps a home with his partner of decades, his youngest daughter and a six year old granddaughter. When we were new to the lawn there in Lanikai, the neighbors would walk within inches of our Subaru camp/home. Behind the yellow Hawaiian print curtains that created a fragile yet real privacy screen for our sleeping quarters, Pete and I established our temporary place. The neighbors were very accepting of us. Most met our gaze when we rolled out from behind the curtain still sleepy from our night in the car. One morning, "C" greeted us with her cup of hot tea as we woke from the night of sleep. Her neighbors were walking past at the same time. "Hi, how ya' doing she said to the neighbors as they walked." The neighbors stopped to chat. My cousin as I recall never skipped a beat as the neighbors looked from her to us. "Oh, these are our people," she said. We were their people, and we felt cared for.
The Mohist, the followers of Mozi of 5th Century B.C. China were more interested in doing good
than being good.
Who are your people, and who considers you their people?
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