Someone once asked me who my hero was. I didn’t have an answer… or at least, not a good one. I’m not sure I have a better answer now but I have met a lot of people who are heroes of a sort. Perhaps it is that I don’t really understand what a hero is. If it is someone that represents something special, exceptional, and is bigger than life then I know a bunch of heroes. In fact, most of the people I know could qualify.
Let me tell you about a very young, very special hero I saw this week. I know this guy fairly well after taking care of him and his family for a couple years. This hero is seven years old. He and his little sister were having physicals this week and she needed shots. He told everyone he wanted a shot. If she was going to have one, he would too. Not that any boy wants a shot but he wanted her to think a shot was nothing or was something to be desired so she wouldn’t be worried.
Turns out, he needed his last chicken pox vaccine. She, unfortunately, needed 3 vaccines to complete her course. When I came back into the room, he was sitting beside her with his shirt off and his undershirt sleeve rolled up. I told him he was getting his wish, a shot. Then I squirted him with water from a syringe and gave it to him to play later.
His sister was stricken. She hid behind her dad. So I squirted him with her shot and gave the giggling girl her syringe. Dad informed them that they could use them like water guns but that he gets to use the super soaker in response. The spell of fear was broken.
When the assistants gave the kids their shots, they were very brave. After his shot, brother told her it was ok, it didn’t hurt. She tried to be tough but it does hurt. So, after the first one, he insisted that she only needed two and begged them not to give her the third. She relaxed a little and the next two didn’t hurt so badly. Maybe partly because Noemi is good at giving shots or maybe because her heroes were in the room with her.
2/12/08
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Again
How many times have we started over. I am starting over again... I only wish there were cosmos in the yard instead of dirty remnants of snow drifts that refuse to melt. Despite the cold, I am starting again and I will get there!
It would be easy
to slumber until the sun is well risen
and all the pink has drained from the mountains
into the Cosmos in the back yard
To drink coffee there, among the flowers
To appease my limbs and dog with three miles
and call it adequate
But I have hitched a ride
with a friend who inspires me
and have set foot on this, my favorite trail
My eyes trained on the fool’s gold of sunrise
spreading across the smooth surface of the water
And on the strength of the mountain standing watch
And on the false nearness of the dam
All pulling me forward
My feet grind in the gravel
my quads groan softly in protest
with every up
and every down
My chest heaves as I gulp ten thousand foot air
And my belly clenches at the chafe of a pack heavy with water
My friend’s baby has learned to pull himself to standing
He wobbles there for upwards of minutes
before sinking back to the embrace of gravity
He can walk a lap around the room, giggling, if you hold his hands
He is getting in shape for the first time
instead of the thirtieth.
I wonder if his body inherently knows the reward
my body now craves
The reward that moves me from my bed
onto this trail
With every step I become stronger
I find ease and flow
And now and then I find his laughter in my mouth
wanting to throw my arms into the air at the top
as I rollercoaster over the hills
With every step I take shape
Like the fireweed that has lost its pink flowers
leaves turning yellow
that soon will orange and red into flames
that lick the forest floor but do not burn
Or the trees that reach out with wet kisses
It would be so easy
to have missed this morning
to not see the day or myself taking shape
tasting life
waking up
It is so easy
putting one foot in front of the other
if we remember that simply this is reason enough to giggle
LB
9/3/05
It would be easy
to slumber until the sun is well risen
and all the pink has drained from the mountains
into the Cosmos in the back yard
To drink coffee there, among the flowers
To appease my limbs and dog with three miles
and call it adequate
But I have hitched a ride
with a friend who inspires me
and have set foot on this, my favorite trail
My eyes trained on the fool’s gold of sunrise
spreading across the smooth surface of the water
And on the strength of the mountain standing watch
And on the false nearness of the dam
All pulling me forward
My feet grind in the gravel
my quads groan softly in protest
with every up
and every down
My chest heaves as I gulp ten thousand foot air
And my belly clenches at the chafe of a pack heavy with water
My friend’s baby has learned to pull himself to standing
He wobbles there for upwards of minutes
before sinking back to the embrace of gravity
He can walk a lap around the room, giggling, if you hold his hands
He is getting in shape for the first time
instead of the thirtieth.
I wonder if his body inherently knows the reward
my body now craves
The reward that moves me from my bed
onto this trail
With every step I become stronger
I find ease and flow
And now and then I find his laughter in my mouth
wanting to throw my arms into the air at the top
as I rollercoaster over the hills
With every step I take shape
Like the fireweed that has lost its pink flowers
leaves turning yellow
that soon will orange and red into flames
that lick the forest floor but do not burn
Or the trees that reach out with wet kisses
It would be so easy
to have missed this morning
to not see the day or myself taking shape
tasting life
waking up
It is so easy
putting one foot in front of the other
if we remember that simply this is reason enough to giggle
LB
9/3/05
Another oldie
I wrote this for a friend. A dear friend who questioned his place and mission on the Colorado mountaintops. Enjoy.
The Why of it.
You ask why you are here.
Is this not the question
we would all ask?
But for today,you are here
because this place has called you -
to walk in different gardens -
to walk in that which is frozen in this place –
to walk in the bright glare of nightfall.
You are here
to kneel at the grave of your grief
in tribute.
To complete the circle;
trying to catch your shadow
and dance on the edge of darkness;
running from
and to
the waiting arms of life.
You are here to soak your feet
in the cold runoff of melting mercy.
To climb from the depths
and reach for the stars.
And to descend to the love
that is waiting.
When you find yourself
in the raven’s blackness,
between a hardrock
and the soft underbelly
of pain and exhaustion;
when you are up against your limits;
when you have run
until the pyre has burned itself out,
You will find the healing hand
of the mountains.
And the Why
of being here
will no longer be important.
7/10/05
The Why of it.
You ask why you are here.
Is this not the question
we would all ask?
But for today,you are here
because this place has called you -
to walk in different gardens -
to walk in that which is frozen in this place –
to walk in the bright glare of nightfall.
You are here
to kneel at the grave of your grief
in tribute.
To complete the circle;
trying to catch your shadow
and dance on the edge of darkness;
running from
and to
the waiting arms of life.
You are here to soak your feet
in the cold runoff of melting mercy.
To climb from the depths
and reach for the stars.
And to descend to the love
that is waiting.
When you find yourself
in the raven’s blackness,
between a hardrock
and the soft underbelly
of pain and exhaustion;
when you are up against your limits;
when you have run
until the pyre has burned itself out,
You will find the healing hand
of the mountains.
And the Why
of being here
will no longer be important.
7/10/05
Thursday, February 7, 2008
An Old one for Alexis
"First you have to get over yourself, then you can practice medicine."
Scot Sickbert
I measure you,
milligram by milligram,
and parse out your day
in therapeutic doses.
You are tied fast
by the sinews of old age.
Held down by the luggage of old memories
and caged by the call light,
and bed alarm
You,
who once danced,
who once suckled babies,
and drank in the scent of summer rain.
You,
who grew daisies,
who perfected lofty biscuits
and hummed to big band.
Your days slip by
like paper boats;
propelled by the trickle
of rainwater running in the street.
And no matter what I do,
this life
runs
out.
7/15/03
Scot Sickbert
I measure you,
milligram by milligram,
and parse out your day
in therapeutic doses.
You are tied fast
by the sinews of old age.
Held down by the luggage of old memories
and caged by the call light,
and bed alarm
You,
who once danced,
who once suckled babies,
and drank in the scent of summer rain.
You,
who grew daisies,
who perfected lofty biscuits
and hummed to big band.
Your days slip by
like paper boats;
propelled by the trickle
of rainwater running in the street.
And no matter what I do,
this life
runs
out.
7/15/03
Smiles
The back of a dirty stepvan that says "XOXOX"
Warm buttered muffins special delivery from the Pacific Northwest
A radio comentator who actually said our road infrastructure was failing because "it was built when Elvis was a star."
Cocoa nibs dipped in 62% dark chocolate
The sun shining in the window
Hot latte
3 rooms done
A bottle of wine in the mailbox with a note from a 6 month old saying his butt feels better (don't ask ;-)
Virtual Friday
A new issue of Geezerjock even if they don't call it that any more
A fabulous issue of Cooks Illustrated with soups and stews
Forecasted for temps in the upper 40s tomorrow when I'm cleaning the garage and shed
Good friends
Warm buttered muffins special delivery from the Pacific Northwest
A radio comentator who actually said our road infrastructure was failing because "it was built when Elvis was a star."
Cocoa nibs dipped in 62% dark chocolate
The sun shining in the window
Hot latte
3 rooms done
A bottle of wine in the mailbox with a note from a 6 month old saying his butt feels better (don't ask ;-)
Virtual Friday
A new issue of Geezerjock even if they don't call it that any more
A fabulous issue of Cooks Illustrated with soups and stews
Forecasted for temps in the upper 40s tomorrow when I'm cleaning the garage and shed
Good friends
Belly of the Buddha
I've always heard that if you rub the belly of the Buddha it brings you luck. I have a friend, a very wise, very young friend. He believes in rubbing the belly of the Dolphin. Berg, who has a mountain of a heart, loves big people, kayaks, alligators, and dolphins. Berg lives in this moment.
As an adult, I tend to live in the future and in the past. The present seems to be a vehicle to get me from the past to the present. This is not good. For all the things I read on mindfulness and being present, you'd think I'd get it. But no. Mindfulness takes effort for grown ups and is natural for children.
My goal this week was to be mindful of my needs; to be gentle with myself. Despite the fact that I have a list of things to accomplish that would boggle the mind of Stephen Hawking, I needed a break. I begged for a 36 hour day... just one or two. But I have had to accomplish a lot in a short time. And then there is the need and desire for sleep.
So the week went by. I forgave myself for the lack of workouts. I grabbed the healthiest thing off the deli at Whole Paycheck last night at 9 p.m. after work. I slept at least 6 hours a night.
And now, the bulk of things are done. The brainless work is left. And I will be able to spend a couple days in the glorious softness of snow and in the arms of the most wonderful person I know.
maybe I haven't been so gentle, maybe I haven't really been mindful or given myself a break. But somehow I have rubbed the belly of the buddha enough to cross a bunch of stuff off my to do list!
As an adult, I tend to live in the future and in the past. The present seems to be a vehicle to get me from the past to the present. This is not good. For all the things I read on mindfulness and being present, you'd think I'd get it. But no. Mindfulness takes effort for grown ups and is natural for children.
My goal this week was to be mindful of my needs; to be gentle with myself. Despite the fact that I have a list of things to accomplish that would boggle the mind of Stephen Hawking, I needed a break. I begged for a 36 hour day... just one or two. But I have had to accomplish a lot in a short time. And then there is the need and desire for sleep.
So the week went by. I forgave myself for the lack of workouts. I grabbed the healthiest thing off the deli at Whole Paycheck last night at 9 p.m. after work. I slept at least 6 hours a night.
And now, the bulk of things are done. The brainless work is left. And I will be able to spend a couple days in the glorious softness of snow and in the arms of the most wonderful person I know.
maybe I haven't been so gentle, maybe I haven't really been mindful or given myself a break. But somehow I have rubbed the belly of the buddha enough to cross a bunch of stuff off my to do list!
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Bean
Missing
warm velvet
Twitching muscle
Running partner
Curious nose
Whistle pig
Thinking
Old friend
Frolic
Snowy footprints
Yellow snow
Slippery hill
Big smile
Remembering
Wet feet
Crunchy bowl
Hot bacon
Prozac
One salty kiss
Groaning sigh
Running
Half heard footsteps
Pulling uphill
Cold morning
All girls
Someone missing
Harley Bean
1/23/08
warm velvet
Twitching muscle
Running partner
Curious nose
Whistle pig
Thinking
Old friend
Frolic
Snowy footprints
Yellow snow
Slippery hill
Big smile
Remembering
Wet feet
Crunchy bowl
Hot bacon
Prozac
One salty kiss
Groaning sigh
Running
Half heard footsteps
Pulling uphill
Cold morning
All girls
Someone missing
Harley Bean
1/23/08
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