...imprison for a moment the shining, elusive element

“The stream and the broken pottery: what was any art but an effort to make a sheath, a mould in which to imprison for a moment the shining, elusive element which is life itself---life hurrying past us and running away, too strong to stop, too sweet to lose?” ---Willa Cather


I am beginning. Again. But this time I am beginning with one goal, and that is to be healthy. I want to do my best to be there for my kids and grandkids. I had given up. After devoting years and years to fitness, and getting Lupus in spite of all that exercise and healthy eating, I got angry and gave up all together. It hurt my pride to begin to limp when I walked, and to pant for air; it hurt my pride to lose control of my body because I had worked so hard for so many years to control it.
Being the extremist that I am (trying to change) I threw in the towel, angrily and only after soaking it with the hot, angry tears of a person betrayed.

I just spent a couple of days at the Heart Hospital in Sometown. I wasn't there because of a problem with my weight. I was there because Lupus is creating all sorts of problems in my life. Lupus is a very tricky beast.

Weight loss is a tricky beast as well. At least it has been me, a former anorexic/bulimic. But the trick was a mind game, not a flesh and bone fact. It was a whole slough of emotions all stirred up by fear and anger.
But a heart is a heart is a heart. Lupus may be the underlying cause of my visit to the Heart-Hotel, but my visit there gave me time to think; I had time to reflect on things and to pray. Upon leaving I have decided to give this physical fitness thing another try, Lupus or no Lupus. This time I am going to put my heart into it. I will try to leave my pride where it is, where it belongs, in the trash bin.
So today, I begin. Again.
I am a woman going to the stream with a new water jar; I am a woman, and a mother and grandmother, so I carry water for my family. The jar I had used for many years broke. After I grieved for a while, I picked up a new lump of clay. I made a new jar and poured my soul into making it beautiful. My new jar is finally ready and now I head back to the stream. I am taking that other half-a-slice of toast* with me because I know I’ll get hungry on the way.


* See Note from blog: 1 ½ Slices of Toast…