Evening In Paris and A Halo Around The Moon

3:22 a.m.

Sleep refuses to stay the night.

There's a soft pinkish silver ring halo-ing around the moon...another big storm with lots of precipitation is coming. The moon never lies. I remember the moon portents from my sailing days. I wish I was on my boat right now. I slept better there than any place else in my life; true peace.

Another night of sleeping in fits, if it can be called sleep, tormented by wakefulness and worry; endless knotty worry with sharp thorns that prick my consciousness.

I have such a strong urge to do nothing: no surgery, no chemo, no radiation. Just live my life 100 mph until there's no more life to live. The Warrior Way.

That would upset the people I love, though; that would hurt them. Isn't it the greatest love of all to suffer hurt for those we love?  To spare them?

          Is it also the Warrior Way to submit oneself to pain? To uncertainty, doubt, agony, loss?

                                  I think a true Warrior would answer "Yes".
                        A resolute "Yes" spoken softly but with Rock-Of-Ages conviction.

 For the first time in my life I feel fragile; truly breakable. It is unpleasant and foreign to feel that.
I cannot find my Sky-Hook. I've always managed to have one, you see. It seems lost in the fog, obscured by a thick, heavy mist I cannot feel my way out of.

I've always been able to visualize the next step, the next stepping stone of my path leading me through the obstacle, the chaos, the heartache; no matter how grim the circumstance I could always see the end of it and that gave me direction and perseverance. I've lived by the motto "A way will come".

                                                   I do not see the way now.

                                                             It's 3:54.
                       
                             I pay so much more attention to the clock these days.

Perhaps if I read for a while I can find a measure of peace with my oldest friends, Books. Since I was four they've been my best & dearest companions, an elixir both of learning and forgetfulness.

   I want so desperately to have my life back, my old life, where I didn't have cancer. When I could plan things, even at my age, I had such plans.  Everything feels arrested now---interrupted or on hold. Sort of like the exasperating "phone trees" when you call a business and have to sort through endless "Press 2" or "Press 5" until you're so annoyed by the time you get to the selection you want, you're no longer sure you want it.  Barriers to your goal.

                      Does my whole life become about cancer? Is that really necessary?

                             I am weary. I need to rest but fickle Sleep won't stay over.

I'll read for a while. Something about Paris...Paris always gives me hope. I've tried looking at the kids' & grandkids' photos from years, months,weeks passed; they make me cry. I don't want to cry.

                                             

                                Yes, a book about Paris will sooth and sedate my troubled spirit.