The Earth, The Winds, and Fire.
I had hoped for a lazy Sunday morning and maybe selectively forgot about my appointment at the imaging center. Who sets up a brain and spine MRI on a Sunday morning? I do. I had woken up to the theme song from the movie Gladiator. It reminds me of home, and that’s an indicator that I woke up naturally, not in my usual startling fashion, as if the world had decided on a pair of Chinos, caught a train out of town, and accidentally left me behind. I often wake up jumpy, worried about what I’ve missed. I struggle with sleeping well. I have for years. Medicines, my brain working overtime, and I don’t fancy sleep. It feels like a waste of time to lay silently motionless, eyes shut while time passes by; I am learning. Rest is necessary, even critical.
Yes, the world and time will move, and the reality is that we cannot impose standards on the progression. In perfect harmony with its circular structure, the earth has a way of girdling us as both drift past. Shifting and swaying through tides of recent tumult, a raging global health crisis, what feels like every intent to extirpate my kind, all markers for ensuing degradation of my mental wellbeing.
By my estimation, these are winds. Winds envelop the world. Winds in this season spell fear, frustration, exhaustion, yes, but they might be the winds that usher in change. We had, for a minute, become content with the stillness of the world. Cold, or lukewarm at best, to gusts of bigotry and wicked division that have torn us apart. We knew it to be steeped in morality, yet its foundation has frayed, and in some cases, eroded utterly. Held together by a maze of scattered and weak posts, this foundation needs an overhaul.
All of these musings occupied my mind for the solid hour since I reluctantly willed myself out of bed, made myself a coffee, showered, and drove to the hospital. It’s Sunday, and I’m on time. I park the farthest away that I can because I want to walk; walking helps strengthen my bad leg. I walk into the East Entrance of “St. Vs.” and the attending nurse asks all of what we’ve come to know as the standard greetings at hospitals now. I answer short and sweet, three Nos. I had not been anywhere, nor had I come in contact with any afflicted persons or experienced any symptoms. He gives me my “ok” badge, and I walk to the imaging center. I get checked in, and the attendant says, “let me fire things up here and make a call so they can come up to admit you.”
Fire. See, fire brings up a lot for me. I live in Portland. As many as seventeen wildfires burned through about one million acres in this state in just these past two weeks. That’s severe damage. We lost lives, and the destruction of property was devastating. I had even drawn up lists of what I would take at the onset of any evacuation orders. Amid these changing winds, my heart goes out to the many displaced, and all of the dearly departed.
The ignition works in the waiting area, and I don’t sit for too long; They call me in. It’s time for the hold-still-make-sure-you-pee-before-you-get-in-MRI rigamarole. Fourteen years of being strapped in twice a year, and it never gets old.
Back on the flatbed, shoulders nice and tight, we are about to roll on into the space tube, or coffin, depending on my mood. This Sunday, it’s a space tube. I’m in a good mood, so not much can extinguish my inner flame. The nurse hands me my earplugs because God knows the noise of the machine can annihilate an eardrum. I’ve wondered all these years as there has been a significant advancement in medical equipment technology why someone has not found a solution for the loudness of an MRI machine. I ask for headphones. “Sorry, Mimi, this a new machine, and the headphones we have can’t quite fit.” What was I thinking anyhow? The lesser moving parts, the better these are COVID times. I don’t need to worry about more equipment and sanitizing. It would have been nice to listen to some old school tunes like Earth, Wind and Fire’s September. A friend had reminded me of the song earlier in the week. We talked about our first to-do lists post-quarantine and atop mine; dancing, cocktails, loud music, and maybe Miami.
No headphones, no worries. I’m fired up. I’ll be alright. Two hours with me, and my thoughts and the white walls of this miracle tubing help determine the direction of my life from time to time. My mind wanders, and when it does, I go back to the security I feel from the warmth of the earth.
As hatred spreads, America ponders her descent into this vitriolic abyss of division and separation, and stormy winds prevail, yet we shall ignite love. We shall quench destructive fires and light up souls to see that we are one. A nation steered by the goodness of God, complete with spaces and places for all at her table. This advent of winds will not derail us from chasing our inherent kindness. Our bodies can be weak, but our souls must remain intact. Regardless of whether you are the perpetrator of strong and harsh winds or the purveyor of delightful calm, we must all come together to heal our nation. We must seek remedies for these unfortunate maladies that have infested our good nature.
Stand firmly on the solid ground, through gale force and storm, and let not your inner flame be extinguished. There is work to be done, so do it. It is well.
