Category Archives: Spirituality

Weekend Roundup

Things are moderately insane here, and there’s a lot of stuff that’s being shifted lower on the list of priorities. Bear with me if I owe you a reply about something via e-mail or a phone call or blog post or something. In the meantime here’s a very brief overview of the last three days for my own records.

Friday Ceri and Phnee came over for a long-anticipated day of writing/crocheting/knitting. I haven’t laughed that hard in ages. I somehow managed to get a thousandish words written, which mystifies me because I’m fairly certain I spent most of my time talking about books and yarn and spontaneously rewriting TMBG songs to be about knitting instead of Advil. And eating. Dear gods, the food. Not that we planned to eat piles of it, just that it was pretty steady. Phnee baked muffins ( “These are delicious,” I said. “They should be,” she said, “they’re your recipe.”) and brought biscuit dough to bake on-site. Ceri brought tea sandwiches for lunch, two kinds of preserves (OMG the carrot cake preserve that I wanted to eat with a spoon), and there was baguette and baked Brie with onion confit and pots and pots of tea. The only shadow upon the day was that Phnee’s laptop decided to turn its nose up at the perfectly good electricity here at the palace.

Friday night HRH and Jeff H. shared a rental van to bring the rest of the bunk bed pieces home and move our no-longer-being-used double dresser to chez Jeff and Airea. Saturday morning HRH and Liam built the bunk beds (and I’m not kidding, the boy actually did help move the mattress and the base through the hall and into his room, and helped screw things together) and there is now a pirate ship construction site lion cage tree house in Liam’s room. I felt like death on toast, so I kind of dragged myself around and stayed out of their way. Saturday afternoon I had a strings-only rehearsal so I dragged myself to that. Managed not to embarrass myself, despite not being wholly there in mind or body. Came home, had a hot bath, rested, reheated homemade pizza for dinner, and then once the boy was in bed we headed out for Emru’s visitation. One never knows what to expect regarding visitations or funerals, but any uncertainty was immediately dispelled as soon as we stepped into the memorial complex. There was upbeat music playing, and people laughing and chatting. The family we spoke with were all equally upbeat, and the whole event really was the celebration of Emru that it couldn’t help but be. He had been dressed in a beautiful white dashiki with exquisite white embroidery around the collar and down the yoke, and a lovely black and white woven cloth of African design was draped over the lower half of the casket. (Perhaps slightly irreverent thought: I’d forgotten how darn tall Emru was.) We met all sorts of people and ended up being among the last to leave. On the way home HRH and I talked about how we really didn’t know much about what the other wanted regarding death arrangements, and discovered that we pretty much intuited the basics anyhow. It’s something we need to think about properly, though, especially now that we have a child. (HRH, of course, isn’t difficult at all: there’s a pond, and there will be a glorious fire, and several days of drinking and loud music of various kinds. Most of us know this. Mine’s similar.)

Sunday I woke up feeling a bit less like death on toast. I mostly worked on the programme notes for the upcoming concert while HRH and the boy played in the construction site tree house. With this new bed the furniture has been rearranged a bit and his toys now live in the two drawers under the lower bunk, so we’ve eliminated the shelves that used to hold his toy bins. Now the room has a very play/activity feel to it, what with the multi-purpose upper bunk (which doesn’t have a mattress on it and will soon have a set of those interlocking foam pieces to make it a bit more comfy), the easel, and the craft table. He has decided that he should be listening to his music while he’s in there, so his CDs have been moved into his room. He’s been playing there instead of in the living room, which is great because it means HRH and I can now relax in the living room when we need to rather than being dragged into the boy’s play. Mid-morning we had our usual pancake brunch, then we went out to buy the boy a play tool set because he’d had so much fun helping HRH build the bed and move the pictures and shelf on his wall. I kept working on the programme notes, which I finally finished last night; I just need to translate them today. I made candles while the boys watched Toy Story and used up the last of my vegetable/soy wax; I’ll need more before Yule. After dinner we had a concert where the boy played the drum and HRH and I alternately got the little xylophone thing and the bells to play and I laughed so much that I cried.

In bed last night I finished Thornyhold (why have I not read this novel before? Oh, right, because I went through my Mary Stewart phase in late high school, before it had been written), read the first quarter of Snake Agent, and wrote a thousand words. It didn’t feel like I did a lot yesterday but apparently I did.

Today: Translating, and doing the first half of my next evaluation assignment. And hopefully some writing, because I’m feeling behind and I really don’t want to lose the momentum of the past two weeks.

Good Night, Emru

Just before 22h00, not long after many of us had focused on sending healing and peaceful energy to be used in whatever way was best at this point, Emru passed away.

I was tight and angry and lashing out at everything yesterday, so HRH captained our ritual. And he opened with a plea to the gods for peace in whatever form was best that made all my anger burn into tears. He named Emru a son, a brother, a father, a husband, a friend, a leader, a teacher, a communicator, a warrior, and by any name a good man. He was all that, and more.

Good night, Emru. Thank you for everything you did for us. Even in your illness you found the good, and turned it into an opportunity to educate and benefit others. You encouraged us all to be better people, and you will be sadly, sadly missed.

The fight continues.

From the very start Emru and his sister Tamu have turned this situation into a drive to raise awareness and teach people about bone marrow transplants and encourage people to list themselves on their country’s bone marrow registry. Cultural minorities in North America (and indeed, worldwide) are particularly under-represented on these registries, a fact that the Townsend siblings have targeted as their main focus.

Emru is only one of millions of people who needs bone marrow transplants to deal with a variety of illnesses and conditions. The most important issue at the moment is that we continue to educate, myth-bust, and spread information about the importance of adding your name to the bone marrow registry of your country. Emru is only one man; there are thousands and thousands of people out there who still need a bone marrow transplant to save their lives. Keep the HealEmru.com link circulating; keep mentioning it to everyone you meet. The majority of racial groups are still under-represented, and that’s not going to change overnight.

Emru’s been blogging his journey and treatment, and it makes for sober but enlightening reading. I am proud of all my friends for a variety of reasons, but Emru and Tamu Townsend are stars. They have tirelessly worked for this cause and given so much of themselves. The campaign may be called Heal Emru, but Emru’s name stands for every single individual who is struggling with an illness and needs a donor for stem cells, bone marrow, or peripheral cell transplant.

The HEal Emru FAQs answer some of the common questions people have about bone marrow donation.
The Heal Emru site lists contact information for registries around the world.

Prayer and good thoughts while Emru has his surgery today are good things (likewise during the recovery period while the transplant settles). Apart from this, the easiest thing you can do is walk up to someone and say, “Hey, have you heard about your country’s bone marrow registry?”

Are you a match? Find out how you can help save Emru’s life: http://www.healemru.com

Got Facebook? Please join Help Emru Find a Bone Marrow Donor and if you learn something new, invite your friends.
Got Livejournal, WordPress or Blogger? Blog it!
Got Youtube? Subscribe to www.youtube.com/healemru
Just find someone you care about and tell them.

Contact info:

Hema Quebec http://www.hema-quebec.qc.ca
Canada Blood Services (Canada, except Quebec) http://onematch.ca/registry
National Marrow Donor Program (US) http://www.marrow.org

Introspective

There’s a whole bunch of stuff going on inside me and it’s hard to sort it all out. As many of my readers know, Emru has been in palliative care for several days now and things are coming to an end. The stem cell transplant was successful, but his cancer has not gone into remission. Most of the time I’m handling a classic set of grief-related responses: I’m angry; I’m scared; I’m reminded of my own mortality and of that of everyone around me; I’m reminded of how random death and disease really is; and perhaps most of all, I’m drowning in empathy for Emru, Emru’s sister, his parents, his wife and son, his extended family, and his closest friends.

HRH and I stayed at the dinner table after we ate the other night and did some serious drinking and talking about past experiences with death. HRH has mainly dealt with deaths of older family members, while I’ve dealt with the sudden death of a close friend at the beginning of university as well as relatives and parents of friends. We talked about what is worse, losing someone immediately and having to deal with the shock and pain of not being able to say goodbye, or watching someone die slowly over a long period of time and having to deal with that long-term pain but being able to tell them what they mean to you. There’s no correct answer, of course. Actually, there is, but it’s an implied answer: Tell the people you admire, honour, and/or love on a regular basis how much they mean to you, and then you won’t have to regret a lost chance.

That session with HRH at the dinner table did help me realize something important, though. All my friends are above-average people, so when they are taken from us of course it seems extra unfair. Of course it seems as if the best of the best are being taken away, and we feel even more pain for the best of the best who are left behind and those who have to deal with the immediate loss. Emru isn’t a close friend, but we work in related writing and editing fields and have interests in common, so we cross paths frequently enough. He’s pointed me in the direction of a couple of job posting lists that netted me a contract or two; he deftly touched up an article of mine and made it stronger. I’ve always respected his opinions and his work, enjoyed seeing him at movie premieres or when he visited us at the F/SF bookshop to discuss animation, and was honoured when he invited me on board the contributing staff of the revived fps magazine. Many of my friends are his close friends, however, and I count his sister among my own set of close friends.

Anyway, all the empathy and frustration at the injustice of it all has been playing havoc with my equanimity. Most of the time I feel frustrated at being useless in this situation. And there are other private things going on that are big-ish and messing with me, too. Plus it’s no-light/no-love/no-hope/November, eternally grey and inconstant in temperature. I have no energy, and food holds no attraction. I restored my higher dose of fibro meds last night to help me sleep. (Yes, my doctor okayed it.) The main goal is just getting through the day. The secondary goal is to keep writing, because if I stop at this time of year it’s very, very difficult to get going again. Associated with that secondary goal is the handing work in on deadline. Other things are constantly being shuffled to the next day’s to-do list, and I’m not beating myself up about it. People will understand. And if they don’t, well then, I refuse to beat myself up about that either.

The logical part of me (taste that irony!) is pointing out that the SAD season is beginning, and on top of that it’s the traditionally dead or absent part of the spiritual year when the energy slows almost to a standstill, turning in on itself in to lie fallow and rebuild strength. Come Yule I know things will pick up. But solstice is six weeks away, and the pain is happening now.

Lest We Forget

I honour the men and women who volunteer or whose job it is to go out and risk their lives in confrontations beyond what most of us can envision. I honour their commitment and courage. I honour our peacekeepers too, the people who go to other countries to help rebuild after times of turmoil. And support staff — doctors, drivers, cooks, all those people who are necessary to the machine of war and who rarely get recognition for being in danger as well. And those left at home, who carry the double burden of hope and dread for their loved ones.

There has to be a better way to solve problems than going to war. But even when someone figures it out, I’ll keep on saying thank you to all those individuals who gave lives, limbs, time, and innocence to the wars. I honour and respect their personal decisions, even if I disagree with the governmental decisions that created the need for them.

Numb

I had a wonderful all-day co-coven retreat day. Great rituals, excellent workshops and discussions, awesome food, terrific company!

Then I came home and checked my e-mail — not only am I negotiating to buy someone’s semi-soft case but I also have a lead on a hard case! — and discovered that the luthier had finally e-mailed me a quote for the repair of the mystery cello.

It will cost far beyond what I was originally quoted. Even half of it is far more than I can afford, more than I have put aside. Even if I could somehow magically conjure a high-paying job for the next month or so, I couldn’t make up the missing amount.

It looks like this isn’t going to happen after all.

I’m numb.

Orchestrated Update

Yes, gentle readers, not only have I baked two loaves of bread, made pizza dough, and a batch of new incense, but I have added to Orchestrated!

New words today: 2,493
Total word count, Orchestrated: 28,739

Makes me want to go add seven words just so I can type ‘2,500.’

And just because I am feeling smug:

Total word count, Nine Noble Virtues workshop: 3,092

Over 5,000 words today. Very nice. Plus the incense and the bread and the other stuff. The one thing I haven’t done today is practise, but I forgive myself. Also, my fingers are all non-fine-motor-skills today for some reason, and I had trouble standing up properly this morning, so.

Time to wrap things up before HRH picks me up o nhis way home so we can do the purchasing of Pizza Toppings Autumn Forgot Yesterday as well as milk and coffee and other things I didn’t know we needed, and then collect the small boy from Grandma’s house.

Today So Far…

… is running precisely in schedule. (Now that I’ve said that, of course, life as we know it will collapse.)

I spent the morning outlining and expanding my workshop for tomorrow’s All-Day-Double-CovenPalooza, and finished polishing it pretty much on the stroke of noon, which is when I wanted it done. There is bread rising. When that’s done and in the oven, there will be pizza dough made. (Note to self: You forgot to pick up peppers and mushrooms yesterday, scatterbrain. Not that they were on the shopping list.) (Not that being on the list would have made any difference. Or maybe it might have, because I actually did get everything on the grocery list, just not the to-do list.) I had breakfast, and lunch, too. I even managed a shower. The postman brought HRH’s copy of Fable II, and my copy of The Red Violin, so I have a new movie to watch tonight while we pack for CovenPalooza.

My last evaluation/review of the book that brought me so much pain was accepted, no edits required. You have no idea how thankful I am.

In the realm of music, I have just discovered Thea Gilmore and am thoroughly enjoying listening to Avalanche. Also still enjoying Alice Cooper’s latest, Along Came a Spider, and I recently pulled Christine Fellow’s The Last One Standing into rotation again.

I’m going to walk away from the desktop and the siren call of the Internet now and curl up with the iBook to reacquaint myself with Orchestrated. It’s very frustrating to do this in fits and starts, but one does what one can.