Healing with Spiritual Light--New Moon

A gathering tonight at The Friends House of Eugene (Quakers) to transfigure with light and journey, yielded this poem.

New Moon Journey

by Catt Foy

Spread my wings in a sunny meadow,

Near a seashore.

From a flower I become a dragonfly, a butterfly

Above a bluff, a gull.

Then diving down, beneath the waves,

Becoming sleek, a seal.

To flap and splash on deep blue swells.

Beneath the waves again

Then

Washed ashore, my five star-limbs

Against the sand

Abandoned by the tide

To die, I lie

And watch the setting sun.

The darkness grows,

I glow. A glowing star upon the beach,

A rising star upon the wind

With limbs a-flowing,

A growing star, a northern star

A new Polaris sparkling

In a dark and diamond sky.

--August 14, 2015

Look for the Sparkle

It is the morning of my husband’s first cancer-related surgery.

I’m sitting in the bathroom, reading a dismal story in Mother Earth News about the destructive wake of big agri-business—the loss of family farms, the death of small towns, the pollution of the environment and the toxification of our food. While towns die, Tyson foods records some $700 million in clear profit even in a bad year, economically. 

A sense of powerlessness makes me stop reading mid-article.  I do what I can, but where is everyone else?  Why do the power-mongers go unchecked?  What more can I do in the face of such overwhelming powers?

Nestled in the nap of the bathroom carpet, a single piece of glitter—a stray from some sparkling garb—winked at me with twinkle enough to tickle a fairy’s fancy.

Such little lights among the drab nap of life remind me that there is always a spark of hope.  I cling to it like a drowning kitten to a piece of driftwood and hope the coming tide is not too high to inundate us completely.

The taxi will be here soon, to take us to the hospital where a port will be installed in my husband’s chest—a little valve allowing the insertion of the chemotherapy which begins later this week.  From now on, only organic chicken from local farms. We have to continue to do whatever we can. Focus on that sparkle of light, and pray it is enough to save us from the tide.

Strange Gratitude

Today Rick and I went to the chemotherapy class at the Cancer Center.  Nurse Rebecca gave a very nice and informative PowerPoint presentation and I have to say that afterwards, we both have less anxiety about the process. It still feels like a BIG deal, but we aren’t as worried about side effects and suffering.  It seems there is a lot of support—emotional, informational, and medical—for cancer victims.

Ironically, I am finally thankful for the poverty—truly.  Learning more about the costs of cancer treatments makes me grateful that we are poor enough to be eligible for Medicaid—known as Oregon Health Plan, or OHP here--and Rick receives Medicare because of his disability status.  Between the two, everything is covered.  If we were middle class or working class, we would be risking everything—our home, our jobs, and total bankruptcy on top of fighting the cancer.  Many cancer victims end up homeless after this kind of a catastrophic illness. My heart suffers for all the families who are so affected.

And I thank the Divine Powers That Be for our financial struggles—if it makes Rick’s treatment possible and affordable for us, it was all worth it. What a strange way to discover such gratitude.