SCIENCE AND THE SPIRIT

Multi-tasking today. Was released from hospital after a two-night stay. Went to see doctor Thursday morning in a semi-emergency condition. After seen by doctor, he told me to go straight to the hospital and check in, now. I said, "Can I go home to get a book?" He'd suggested I might stay over the weekend. His answer was, "No." I walked to the hospital, about the distance from my door to the mailbox, leaving the car in front of doctor's office. Once in, they wouldn't let me out. Later, I pleaded that I be allowed to move the car to a longer-term space in the hospital parking lot. It was taken as if I were going to escape and not come back. I was allowed, reluctantly. Displeased with the prospect of staying over the weekend, because staff is reduced to just a few and the hospital feels desolate on weekends, I rankled at the thought of four or more days stranded without a book, nothing but television in the room; only women's magazines and men's hunting magazines in the waiting rooms. I already know there is nothing on tv I want to see. Last time in hospital, several years ago, I had to stay over the weekend. At one point in the day, Saturday, I rang the nurse's station, said I needed some assistance, waited a long time, rang again, same answer, will be right there. Nobody showed up. I walked to nurse's station,  Two part-time CNAs on weekend duty were standing there talking like between classes in school, in a doorway so nobody could go in our out. They looked at me like I was an intruder; they were busy. I said, "Does anybody work here?" Did that ever charge the air with animosity. By then, I was in a mood not to care what impression I made. I stated my need and walked back to the room. They were not friendly after that. They weren't friendly before, either.  

I saw right away a very different attitude among hospital staff in this visit to the hospital than I'd ever seen before. The supervisor of the nurses and CNAs dropped in the room yesterday and asked my assessment of their performance. I waxed ebullient. I said I loved the nurses. All were friendly and responsive to the point they'd ask if they could get me coffee or something else during the day. By the time I left this morning, I felt like all the nurses who'd tended to my needs in my time of incarceration were my friends. Like when I see any of them in the grocery store, they'll act like they've seen me before, will even stop and talk. One of the CNA's this time was a facebook friend. One of the nurses, Tina, who lived across the state line in Virginia, told me she and her husband had the house painted four years ago. The paint on it before was put there by Enoch Rutherford, Grayson County old-time banjo picker who died twenty or more years ago a legend. I told her that last year I'd given my friends Justin and Crystal a Willard Gayheart pencil drawing of Enoch Rutherford. Justin is a house painter. He'll love hearing that Enoch painted houses. Tina's grandmother and Enoch lived almost in sight of each other. She said on weekend nights the air was alive with fiddle and banjo music. The x-ray tech I've known over 30 years. We've seen each other's hair turn white. The ultra-sound operator is my neighbor. He'd also lived in San Diego, where I was born. I saw Richard Nichols, bluegrass bass player, and his boy Trevor, old-time fiddler, who do the hospital maintenance. I hadn't seen Trevor in several years. His hair is gray now. It took a second to recognize him. I wanted to shake his hand as I rolled by, the passenger in a wheelchair, and recognized him for certain a split second too late.  I was checked into the hospital by a beautiful black woman whose face I studied all the time she entered information into the computer. American Indian features, skin tone leaning toward bronze. I attempted not to be conspicuous gaping at her particular beauty.  I was thinking I'd like to paint her portrait. I know it feels creepy to have somebody staring at you. I couldn't help it. She paid it no mind. I was an old white guy. They're creepy anyway. 

The Friday night shift had a nurse, a CNA and another CNA, all three named Ashley. First one I met, the nurse, said, "When you need something, just call for Ashley." I recognized her when she stepped into the room as someone I've seen multiple times, have spoken with, unable to recall where. She said she'd worked in a restaurant before she became a nurse. With that for a clue, I puzzled over the restaurants in town, and couldn't find her in any of them, but knew she was there, she was so familiar. Later, I asked and it was the one I had not been to in ten years. That was when she worked there. I only recalled going there a few times. Now that it's in my mind and I'm seeing the interior, her taking the order, recollection is surfacing, I've been there several times. We have two shopping centers with parking lots. I tend to go to the grocery store in the other one from the restaurant's. I felt right away in her responsive personality that she's held nurse an ideal for herself and worked a long time saving the money. She seemed to me that she was at home in herself. She was where she wanted to be, doing what she wanted to do. Every nurse and CNA I became acquainted with during their shift gave the sense that they are doing what they want to do. The woman whose title I forget, she's head knocker of the nurses, stopped by and we talked. She had the same sense about her the others had, that this is where she wants be today, doing what she wants to do. Present in herself. A white woman's face of striking beauty that I couldn't divert my attention from gaping at. I was painting her face in my mind's eye while we talked. I was multi-tasking, studying her face and focusing on our conversation, right-brain, left-brain, both going at once, yin-yang in motion, balance. I was seeing the feminine, and every one with what I can only think of as goddess energy. I know that sounds corny, but it's the closest I can get. It was healing goddess energy. It was my first hospital experience where I felt healing energy in the entire staff, individually. 

I felt like every one of them I could paint a portrait of as an aspect of goddess, but could never reproduce the presence. It was powerful. I did, indeed, feel for the the first time in a hospital, healing energy in the presence of everyone I encountered. I couldn't help but think frequently, there's something going on here that's important. And the doctor, himself, he generates healing energy. I don't mean to get 1980s California New Age on you, but these are the words closest to what I'm reaching for, the only words I can use to avoid pages and pages of explanation. The sense I felt was this may be the future. First glimmers of the light of dawn in humanity's dark night of the soul. My experience took me from waiting rooms to all over the place. I felt at home and safe everywhere in there. Every experience in my time there was as comfortable as being at home. I'm not even intending this to be a review. It's just that this is my experience. And thanks to a new discovery of science a new pill for thinning blood that dissolves (or something) blood clots. Mighta went pop in my skull or shut down the heart. I went in unaware of the great white swimming under my boat waiting for me to jump in for a swim. This is the second time science has extended my stay in this body. Went through the hole in the big white donut three or four times. That was trippy. I wondered about people whose lives the donut extended by several years, if they gave credit to the scientific method. So much that is wonderful has happened in my life since my previous stay of execution by science, I can only feel grateful, as well as to the healing energy of my doctor and his nurses. Agnes Joines dropped by this morning before I was let go. She had brought Ernest for examination. She told me their boy who lives out West knows the woman who discovered this new blood thinner. That knocked me over like a bowling pin. In my mind's eye I saw the drawing of Enoch Rutherford. More than many interesting coincidences happened throughout the stay. Channel-surfing the tv this morning around 4am, unable to sleep, weary of reading, I found a Led Zeppelin concert. Saw the last hour of it. Raw chance. My experience from walking in the doctor's office to walking out of the hospital was so comfortable and so healing I feel it was divinely directed. Science and the Spirit flowing together, another good balance. 

photos by tj worthington

SUNDAY AFTERNOON WITH FRIENDS

vada faye

 

This is my baby friend, Vada. She is two and a half, the great-great granddaughter of a friend who has gone on, Faye Wagoner, guitar player, singer of the old songs, extraordinary woman, worked a farm with her husband, Jimmy, who played banjo and fiddle until he lost the fingers of one hand in a sawmill incident. Vada is great granddaughter of my friend Clair Francis, daughter of Faye. Vada's grandparents, Ronnie and Robin, were my friends, her daddy and mama are my friends. I've told Vada's mother, Crystal, I'm on my way to prison; I've fallen in love with a baby. I've known Vada's daddy since he was a baby. Justin, has been my friend all his life. He mentioned a month or so ago that I have seen him in every phase of his life and he has only known me with white hair looking the same, from first memories to present. This is the family I love as my own. They're all my babies. I would die for any one of them, and that's not spoken idly. I have thought about it. Four years ago a neighbor and friend died who was up in his 80s, I took care of unto his dying. Hospice was such a help, I wanted to volunteer, a way of expressing my gratitude, plus I believe Hospice is a wonderful thing. Unfortunately, Hospice in Sparta did so well a corporation bought it and all the nurses left, the whole staff left, they've brought in new staff and it is a totally different place that lost its credibility overnight. I sat with two separate old boys who were dying, sat with them once a week, and found myself fading down, down, down, thinking about dying all the time, looking at those old boys, thinking I may croak before they do, until I found myself depressed looking at dying in the face. It's not that I'm afraid of dying, but continuous focus on it left out everything between now and then. I needed younger people in my life.

 

mother and child

 

vada

 

About that time Justin and Crystal moved into a new house and Crystal was on the verge of childbirth. I helped them paint the interior of the house. I visit regularly on Sundays and sometimes during the week. They have become the focus of my social life. Justin and I watch the race on Sunday and, in this season, football. Melvin, who works with Justin, is with us most Sundays. Today I rode with Melvin, who lives near me, and sometimes he rides with me. Both of us like to take the back roads and stay off the highways where the highway patrol lurk like spiders in the corners of windows. The back roads are paved just like the highways, but much less traffic. You very seldom see another car on the back roads. Driving home, Melvin said, "I aint much of a driver. I hope I'm not scaring you." I said, "You're keeping it in the road." Upon arrival, first thing is play with Vada time. She loves Melvin like crazy. She wallows on him like he's a big teddy bear. She loves me too, so much it's humbling and brings tears to think about it. Vada has had a charismatic charm since the day of her birth. I would love to watch Vada grow up, but know I won't be seeing her into her teens. But I already know what Vada will be like as a woman. She's a balanced mix of her mother and dad. It's in her horoscope too. Justin is still the little boy I knew; he's just grown up. Same personality. It tells me Justin has never left the track of who he is. He is unrepentantly himself. Justin has grown up into a man I am happy to know. He has a brilliant mind that is fast and retentive. At his core, he is a true human being. I'm impressed by his abilities and knowledge in his own field, which right now is house painting. Saturday I was given a house tour of a new house he'd painted the interior. The line where two walls of different colors met was a perfectly straight line.

 

melvin in the mancave

 

 

justin in the mancave

 

Here is Justin wearing his tshirt that says Shit Creek Survivor. Melvin usually wears a tshirt that says something about redneck pride. His tshirt here has a tag that says Carhart. Melvin is somebody who does not call attention to himself and goes his own way. He's had some hard times. He grew up outside Murphy, NC, in the southwestern corner of the state near Georgia. They lived next to the dirt track where the races happened on weekends. Melvin's dad maintained the track, leveling the dirt after a race that puts deep ruts in the curves. Later, he lived in Arkansas. While there, his sister was hit in the head by a stray bullet and has spent her life since in a wheelchair. Now he lives about five miles down the road from me in Whitehead. Melvin's wife, Ellen, is the aunt of my friend Tina, who is older than her aunt. Tina is the only Wiccan I know of in the county. In fun, I call her Bat Woman. In the time we were both working in the courthouse, sometimes I'd cut a bat out of black construction paper and tape it to her computer monitor when she was out. Tina is one of my favorite people on the earth. For several years somebody would ask me from time to time if I knew Tina, saying I need to know Tina. Several people in that time before we met told her she needed to meet me. One day we met and we were like, It's you. It was like we already knew each other when we met. She's what we call in the mountains a catbird. It means she's a lot of fun. I suspect a past life connection with Tina like I do with Justin. I also suspect Vada of being the same soul as her great-great grandmother, Faye. Vada moves like Faye, has Faye's light-hearted attitude, her eyes. Vada already sings several children's songs.

 

melvin

 

justin

 

Neither of todays football games went to suit Justin and Melvin. They were pulling for Carolina and San Francisco beat them in a tight game. The other game, San Diego and Denver wasn't a very exciting game either. Both their teams lost. I don't care who wins. I just like watching the plays. Like in racing, I never care who wins. They're all excellent drivers in my assessment. I figure they all have what it takes to win. We watch the game awhile, then descend the stairs to the mancave in a corner of the basement. There we smoke and laugh and have a sip of good mountain liquor from time to time. We listen to the game on the radio in the mancave. Everything we talk about makes us laugh. We spend much of the time laughing. We hadn't played darts in several months and this evening threw darts at least an hour. My last game, I never scored one time. I was weary and sat down, letting them throw the darts. Vada came to the basement to visit us. She wanted me to hold her when I was not taking my turn. I'd put her in the chair, throw my three darts, then pick her up again. She loved watching us throw the darts. I held her while she watched Melvin and Justin take their turns. She watched with the fascination of seeing something new. She'd never seen us throw darts. I feel in their company as comfortable as I feel at home. However, after several hours of expending energy and attention, it feels good to walk in the door at home, go straight to the bed and lie down for a half hour or so to settle in to home. No matter how much I enjoy the company wherever I go, returning home, I fall into my own stillness, my quiet, glad to be back to my favorite spot on the earth.

 

 

vada makes a face

 

vada makes another face

 

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