OUTSIDE IN

                                                         OUTSIDE IN:   

Inside on an outside kind of day.  I was outside. I went out, wandered about my front, side and back yards and sat out for a bit, brushing my cat as he lolled from side to back to tummy.  But I’m bushed, so I headed back in looking for some comfort and well, something that we sometimes talk about, those of us with Lyme disease, which is a little less exposure to the larger world on a rougher day. I could use some comfy furniture outside there, and it might well entice me to spend more time outside resting. Well, I need at least one piece of deck furniture, a chaise lounge for myself. I’ve long contemplated one, maybe one of those old fashioned, really comfy looking, redwood loungers with the big, plump, brightly colored cushions. They show up sometimes on the net or Craigslist. Who is Craig, by the way? He’s done a wonderful service regardless of whether I do or don’t know him. Thanks, Craig. I’ll be seeing you, soonish.

And this brings me to the reason for this entry. I realized that if I go out only because I think I should, then I’m not helping myself much. Am I?  At just about the point where I settled in on my bed, I had one of those very rarefied moments, the kind that you know are going to bless you later on, and often, often, often. I’m exhausted. I took a shower last night (in hope of getting out to get a puppy today, which is another story, altogether), and for some reason, unknown to me, of late, these can often lead to the same kind of herx-like reaction that a detox bath can. I can’t control it, and I need to be clean, so it is what it is. There must be a reason for this reaction. Maybe in just having the water wash over me, it speeds up circulation, or washes off some of the nasty little spirochetes that linger on my skin, and makes room for more spirochetes to move through, creating a die-off. I don’t know. I don’t even much care at this point.

What I care about is the idea that the day needs to feel okay to no one other than me, and okay, well maybe my cat. It doesn’t have to match or meet anyone else’s standards or even ideas of how to spend a spring day. And folks, this is a gorgeous spring day here in Maryland. This is the kind of spring day that made poets write love poems, young men fall in love, and young women lose their heads to these same young men. It’s also the kind of day that often sends you running to the home and garden center. Or the memory of a day like this last spring may motivate you to sprint over to the garden center…but not me. Not today. And if this is what feels right to me, this utter giving in to my fatigue, then there’s a reason for that, and as someone I used to know said, sometimes trying to know these things is like trying to nail jello to a tree. Can’t be done. No point in wasting the energy even trying.

Earlier, I came upstairs and perched my sore self on my comfy bed, which is where I wanted to be. This is where the warm afternoon sunlight hits my house, and later in the year, with summer, will stream across the end of my bed. This the most comfortable place to be when this, my favorite light of the day, strikes. So, I threw the front window open, allowing the soft breeze to clear the air. There’s a lovely view front my rest spot, one of trees in flower, new growth, and some kids playing basketball, one-on-one, on their side backish yard, the soft noise of their game floating through my window and becoming part of my rest. Afternoon sunlight from a hallway window, outside of my door, with a mostly westerly exposure, streams on across my hallway, and lights the white curtains that I hung there. This is the best part of the day. When I’m at the beach, this is the part of the day where the Atlantic ocean absolutely shimmers with the reflection of sunlight. Shells and tiny pebbles strewn on the beach, take on the warm light and the colors and shapes are brilliantly setoff against the soft creamy sand by the warm, golden glow.  And this is the part of the day when I never want to leave the beach. I want it to last forever. I feel the same way here, inside, perched on my bed today. I’ve made a nest here.

I realized something important, the idea that’s going to bless me later on, and is blessing me right at this very, as-I-sit-here-typing, moment. Now. I realized that in just accepting my own feelings, I won’t have to think about what might have been if I’d made a different choice, or fight with myself about feeling that I should be outside. So, I’m left in a state of nearly perfect peace. This means that I get to enjoy my day exactly as it is, with no regrets. No regrets now, none tomorrow, and none at any point if I happen to glance back some sweaty, sultry moment during the oppressive heat and humidity that absolutely define mid-Atlantic life during our summers. We have the kind of summers that usually amount to, one long heavily oppressive heat wave. They descend quickly and heavily, and often leave me to long for a day like today. But I’m not going to wish to have this day back, because it’s perfect for me just as it is at this moment. And the thing is, it always was.