9-16-14
Sitting in the  morning like I used to once, watching the morning  skies  roll by
in clumps of  grey and white, pink flowers  jutting  out on ends of  a  staccato looking  bush,
hearing the  birds chirp, the morning  begins.

A  neighbor  drives  off  to work
the  car port empties
I hear  the sounds of  airplanes  overhead,
their  jet  streams  tunneling loudly in their wake like  sonic booms

The flies  hover  around my dog  who sits  beside me.
He is  contented to sit on the  concrete  slab in the  cool of  an 80 degree  morning.
Temperature  is all relative here.
The  prickly pear  cactus  in front of  a neighbors home
sits  awakened  by the  rains of  yesterday, its  points  sticking sharply out
into the  nothingness of  the  air.

I sit on a lounge  chair and hear the roosters  crow on all sides-
the loudest  is  from the south where the  neighboring  horse farm is,
the north is more  distant, probably  muffled  by the  bushes  by someone's home.
I am able to sleep through them this year or is  it just that  they have
moved  a little  further  away, or  are  my earplugs  working better   to lull me back
to a sound  sleep  after  the heat of  a humid 90 plus  degrees  of a  fall day.

This is the  first mooring I have  found my spot out here on this  concrete  slab
of  a porch by the  side of  the mobile home.
A  far  different  thing  from my old screened in porch or the swing in my  yard  filled
with trees and grass  in Cincinnati, but it  will do.
The  sounds of nature  are all around me,
the trees, bushes and flowers  are beautiful all year  long
and I can take my pen with me  wherever  I go

Awakening  to the dawn of  a new  and blessed day
how  sweet it is be  at  peace  again.

9-17-14
Reality  has  thrown me a  curve  ball with its  flashing fluorescent  lights
and its  neon number  changing signs.
its  paging  announcements  every  five  seconds.

I  sit in the DMV off in  Mesa  Az and it  feels like the Social Security office
 in downtown Cincinnati.
All I'm there for is  a license.
 I am instead  bombarded  from every direction by external  sensory input
which  frazzles me to the core.
Thankfully, I am only there  about an hour  (everyone  else  had  told  me it would  be  at  least  3)
but  when I leave,  I don't know where I am.
My hands  and limbs  vibrate, my head  feels like its  been put into a  salad  spinner
and is  still  going  around.
I cannot  drive.

Ultimately, I begin to laugh then cry,
Sensory overload, maxed  out.

I grab  my hematite  stone and it helps me for  a minute.
You've  never  moved  before, he  says.
You're  right, I respond.
I am so disoriented, ungrounded, off  center, off  base.

The  settling  back into my own skin takes  a while.
I sit in a  chair outside of  Fry's  grocery and  rock to  calm  myself
I am "off"  for much of the day.

9-21-14

Another  new  day in Arizona
I am again  disoriented  this  morning  from my first  time  ushering at Gammage  theatre
last  nite and coming out and not  being able to find my car- my  new  red  Prius.
It was  a sea of  neon lights in the parking lot.
I couldn't  even  discern the color red.
I wandered  aimlessly for  what seemed  to be  forever until I finally asked
a  young  theatre  manager for help.
He  said it happens all the time.
People  get   disoriented and exit the theatre  at a  different  door  from the  one
they entered  through.
Knowing I was not alone  was  a good thing, yet  not terribly comforting  at  the time.
I have no bumper  stickers  for the  first  time in about  25  years
and its  disconcerting  that I cannot  distinguish  what  is  mine.
I don't  want to plaster up  a new  back fender,  but even if  I did,
I wouldn't  know  what  to put on it  this  time  around.
My old identity seems  to have  disappeared and  at  times I feel that  I am lost.
Not yet  ready to  replace  the old and needing to just  let  the  void  be
until whatever it is  I  seem to need  shows  up.

We  find my car, almost  too  easily  once  we  are where where  I should have
started  from.
I knew  when I passed  a  fountain twice that I  just  didn't recognize, that  something
was  not  right,  but I was  too tired to figure  it out.

Somehow, I got out of the lot,  found my way home
and  crashed  clothes and  all atop of  the  bed.
Spent

Disorientation  brings  up a  lot  of  fears  and insecurities.
Who  do I really know to call here?  What  will it  be  like to age  here?
Will I be  truly happy  here?
Mortality….friends  dying  whose  funerals  I cannot  attend.
Sickbed of  a dear  friend's  father  I am unable  to be by to comfort  her and
see him one  more time
My grief  feels  like  a bottomless  pit  at  times.
the void  made larger  by the  vulnerability  that disorientation has  brought on

This  too shall pass. Today I shall  start  my blog  and take  care  of me.
giving  voice to all that I need  to give  voice  to.
My pen on the  page is  my therapist in the moment.
always  telling me the  truth that I need to hear.
Today I shall listen to  my  body  more  and  take  it  slow.
It  has not  been even  three  weeks that I  have made  this place  my home.
One  day  at  a time….