I do not have a macro lens on my simple little digital Kodak Easy Share camera, so when I try to zoom in on small objects like garden stones and decaying leaves, the results are blurry, grainy, abstract images. I don't have Photoshop...just the enhancement effects that come with the Easy Share software to play with. Ok, not particularly good photos as photos go. Maybe it's me, and only me, I don't know, but I find these miniature still life abstractions pleasing nonetheless. Mysterious, organic forms intrigue me.
These out of focus photos call attention to something that is crystal clear... even the simplest of things in this world, filler rocks and bits of torn leaves glazed in melting snow and unseasonable rain, hold their own intrinsic beauty. I wrote the above portion of this post Friday afternoon, after a full week of sore throat and not quite a fevered temperature hovering between 99.4 and 99.9, just enough to slow me down a little more and leave me feeling icky. My non-fever "broke" by late afternoon and I was finally at 98.6, my accent was very slight, I was feeling better, finally. I even facilitated a heart opening one on one SoulCollage® session with fellow blogger Carolynn at A Glowing Ember. I thought, ok, I'm fine now. All is well; I’ll be able to catch up on undone household tasks over the weekend. Without warning, I was plunged back into MS land. By Friday night I needed assistance from Gordon in climbing the steps. And I do mean climb. It felt like my own personal Monadnock, not a huge mountain, but still more than a mere staircase to the second floor. Saturday morning my limbs felt leaden, so heavy; that Kryptonite beneath the bed sensation. When these unforeseen shifts in my energy and mobility occur after several weeks of significant improvement the anxiety starts to rise. I get scared. Oh no, not another exacerbation. Now what? What if, what if, what if...and then I breathe with consciousness, still frightened but with awareness around the fear. As with any chronic medical condition...for that matter life in a healthy body...living is a sea of unpredictable tides...waves rising high then suddenly slamming me down, crashing toward the sandy bottom. In the midst of feeling overwhelmed, grasping for a hand, gasping for breath, a new wave gathers beneath me lifting me back to the surface supporting me, cradling me rocking me back into feeling safety and wellbeing in my life again.
I have a print by artist Brian Andreas where he has written his words of wisdom: "Most people don't know there are angels whose only job is to make sure you don't get too comfortable & fall asleep & miss your life." MS is that angel for me right now. It prompts me to pay attention, to slow down, to notice the beauty of sunlit snowy branches, bird song making an early return at the tail end of a mild winter, wet stones and leaf stems just outside my back door. This unusual angel reminds me to be grateful. It makes no difference if I am feeling strong and steady, ready to take on the laundry or like a rag doll slumped on the couch dropping articles when I speak aloud…the wonders of Creation are always near to uplift my heart in a moment of attentiveness.
This "angel" photo was taken a few days before the rain melted the ice, in the same small area just outside the sliding glass doors as the other pictures above. It is simply the remnants of a torn leaf encased in ice. 
