driving for inspiration

I was going to pull a Forrest Gump and write something along the lines of "life is like the weather in Scotland because it changes all the time and you can't predict it." Amazingly, I had thought that a few paragraphs at least would've emerged from that stunning realization, but clearly it's its own succinct dollop of 'duh'. There ya are. Here we is. Sun, cloud, rain, wind, what's next? 

The we in this photo shows a Sunday, May 17th reunion with a dear friend from late 1980's southern California. Rae Gina and I knew one another in a context of group that I cannot elucidate without jarring into my respect for said group's traditions. If ya follow me, ya know. If not, don't worry about it. Twenty years it has been since we followed our respective and interconnected paths of soul solace and wisdom, with life on life's terms slamming into us in various ways over the years. 

She found me several months ago on Facebook, that bastion of one-liner time evaporation with a few twinges of heartfelt ahhhh thrown in. Amidst her excitement about catching up with me I had thrown in my now worn moan of, "I can't really write a lot right now, I've got this health thing going on..." And then it was a moving thing going on. And dammit, the health thing is STILL going on! I waved weakly while catching up with her two decades in occasionally uploaded photo galleries. 

A surprise opening in a very popular golfing workshop run by my friends Joan and JT led me to forward that announcement to Rae Gina without much thought. "I see on FB that she likes to golf. Here, this is a Forward that doesn't involve making a wish and sending it on to 18 other people to hear good news in three days at 11:09 am local time..... there! It's sent." (For those of you sending me well-meaning chain emails, you can stop it right now - thank you!). 

She leapt at the chance to travel to St. Andrews, Scotland, to play at the home of golf. And no matter how tired I felt and still feel, I was not going to miss the opportunity to drive 143 miles each way to rendezvous with her for several hours. I couldn't quite close the gap between Berkeley and Reno, but this.... had to be for me. 

And so it was and so I took away photos, gratitude, remembrances, appreciation - and a sizable armload of her wisdom that is helping me now as I tried to share my own beginner's wisdom 20 years ago. "All we have is today," she said more than once. My pain and my sorrow began to have the merest crack in their hardening armor. "All we have is today," she said. I've heard this before, over and over and over. But I seemed to have needed to have heard it from her. 

When you read this, Rae, you'll see one of the gifts you gave me.

The life/death/uncertainty shit can make me certifiably unserene and insane. I don't have a ready model for coping with this. Trying on my considerable arsenal of coping and healing mechanisms has found me lacking and thirsty. I might die soon and I do NOT (pardon my language) fucking want to. This is one of my ultimate edges in powerlessness and I have not been graceful with it AT ALL. 

All we have is today, she said. And a hurting part of my soul heard her.

The rain is back. It patters on the skylight window here in our living room. Ali is out at her art course in Elgin; Tony is out there amidst the elements gardening. I'm here at my computer, avidly avoiding the growing stack of my medical bills yelping for their copays while I growl inwardly and think, "I'd be a lot happier paying you if I had SOMEthing that resembled a guarantee, you know." Control and the hunt for satisfaction dog me. "It's my RIGHT, dammit!"

All we have is today. All I have is today.

Thank you, Rae Gina. Thank you.