A Fainting

For the first time in thirty years I almost fainted last night.  Watching a program about a young girl receiving chemotherapy and a bone marrow transplant to repair her immune system.  Me, who has assisted in  many surgeries, seen blood and guts and protruding bone, eyeballs and viscera.  I didn't even know how it was affecting me until I felt a little strange and thought I'd get up, go to the loo, brush my teeth and go to bed.  By the time I'd got to the laundry room I was on my way out and took the downward dog position in an effort to get blood to my head.  Not good enough so I went and lay down on the cool wooden kitchen floor. 

It took time but of course I recovered.  What surprises me is that it happened at all.  I've fainted while watching Bob Fosse's heart attack scene  in a movie made about his life, during the simulated abortion scene in the movie The Other Side of Midnight, almost fainted when reading an article about woman's trouble in the Readers Digest and many times during visits to doctor's offices for shots and examinations (which is why I don't go anymore.  Much easier to stay healthy rather than undergo that particular form of torture).  I'm 55 years old and still fall victim. 

Fainting or almost fainting is the most horrible sensation.  My vision starts to fade, my body gets hot, the world goes black and when I wake up I still feel wobbly and unwell but have an overpowering urge to get to the toilet.  I suspect it's the body readying itself for flight by flushing out the bowel but wonder at the same time that if I'm getting ready for flight why am I on the ground weak as a kitten?  Read some files on syncope and the theory is that it is the body's way of averting danger by playing possum. 

Was so relieved to get into bed.  Thought sleep would come easily.  My face, while brushing my teeth, was still pale and greasy looking.  The bed felt wonderful.  Gave myself up to gravity and the scent of clean sheets.  But sleep would not come and when it did it was restless.  Dreamed several dreams.  One of which was of aliens.  In the sky was a lopsided pentagram streaked like tortoiseshell.  It was supposed to be a weather anomaly but at some signal it began moving.  We were being invaded!  Don't remember beyond that.  Another dream had to do with Karla and work and a third was about a horse, perhaps Balthazar.  Was going to ride him but was concerned about his discomfort with having a weight on his back.  Found a hornets nest beneath the saddle flap.  That's a pretty clear message.

This last dream portion is tied in with a partial story I caught on Horsetalk TV about a Russian trainer called Alexander Nevzorov.  He is totally against horse sports as cruel, no exceptions, has a  petition on his website calling for their ban, which I signed, yet manages to train his horses to do extraordinary things with nothing more than a string tied around their neck.  He doesn't believe in bits, bitless bridles or halters.  I was enthralled.  I, who have taken the whip to my horses in an effort to make them comply with my wishes.  Always forgiving horses who greet me the next day as if nothing had happened.  Their greatness of spirit is humbling.  I am very ashamed of the way I have behaved.   Especially as always I have known in my heart he is right.  Even as I beat them, I knew how wrong I was to do so.  It shames me to write these words.  But shame is a pointed prod to change.  I now cry when poddy calves are ridden by children at rodeos, I don't watch horseracing on television, I always think of the animal that has given its life to make some kind of burger for the big chains, an animal that hadn't much of a life while it was alive, I think of the animals that died during the tsunami, during the battles in the Middle East, those that were frightened, who lost their homes or their people.  I'm a different person in many ways to that person who raised a whip in anger and frustration.  Not altogether different but trying to be totally different.

4.9.10. Interesting night. Falling asleep I was aware of falling down/through/toward something. It is difficult to describe for I kept my *conscious* awareness at the same time as I was *falling* asleep. Yet there was the definite knowing that was aware of passing through/down/toward levels of consciousness that was connected to, at the same time as separate from, everyday consciousness. It was quite exciting.

Next day. Raining, raining, raining. Matisse, the Siamese and Radar, the whippet both have ringworm. My case has just cleared up. Not sure whether Natalia brought it into the house or I picked up from work and brought it home. Richard has it too. Not a big deal but annoying. Trying to treat Matisse is like trying to saddle an angry wasp. He's got two spots, one on each ear. I have to shut him in the bathroom with me and then scruff him to get it on.

We have two sick galahs hanging around. I wish we had some invention that could catch them from trees and telephone wires without harm. There is another galah with what I suspect is a broken pelvis. It looks all right otherwise and still seems to be in good condition. It can only move with difficulty and instead of standing on its legs it props on its keel. The other two are not in good condition.. There is one sitting on the wires in the rain, eyes closed, head drooping. By the time we are able to catch them they are usually too far gone to save.

The most bizarre galah death we ever witnessed took place in the big silky oak growing out of the old veggie garden. There was a galah near the top who caught our interest by its strange behaviour, flapping and jerking, and vocalizations. Suddenly it gave the most hair raising scream and fell from the tree. It didn't flutter on the way down. I think it was already dead. There wasn't a mark on it and it was in good condition.

Jack, DImitri, yoga and dreaming

Bit of a barney this morning with Jack. Yesterday discovered that he'd either been attacked through the wire by Algernon, as one toenail on his right food was mangled and bleeding, or less likely, he'd caught it in the wire. I think he'd had a fight with Algernon as Algernon has been sticking close to home the past week or so. I've broken up skirmishes before. I was vacuuming when whatever happened happened as I'd been out just before to visit him and went out immediately after because I heard black cockatoos in the distance. And there he was, blood smears on the perch, coagulated blood on the ground and him holding it up and looking forlorn. Not that injury and my soft words improve his temper. I put his seed out this morning but he ignored it as he was on the ground (hope we don't get another infected toe). Anyway, he tried to climb but had trouble so I extended, with some trepidation, the handheld perch for him to get on. He did but just as he was stepping from it to the aviary perch he lunged for my hand. I dropped the handheld with him on it and in retaliation he attacked my foot (luckily ensconced in ugh boot) and bit. Connected too the little toad. So I kicked/tossed him away and scolded him. Not that he cared. He's not one bit cowed. Naturally I don't want him cowed but he does need to understand that a) it's not acceptable to bite and b) it's not acceptable to bite. I haven't been out since but am going to later as there are some delectable torelliana tree branches which have fallen that can be divided up between the birds. They always like having fresh chewable branches.

At least he's in good feather and looking well. He's energetic and getting around, an entirely different bird than when he arrived.

Dimitri continues to relax around me. Yesterday he even walked towards me as I was walking towards him. I don't think he even realized what he was doing. I love his little 'hooo?' sound that he makes. Like a contact call. I repeat it back to him so we have this little conversation going which is pleasant for us both. I haven't worked with him, as in clicker training, for awhile. I do think it's important but frankly it's been too bloody cold to sit on the floor and train. Perhaps that's why he's relaxed. I must advertise to him that I want something for he's less relaxed when we're training than when we aren't even though I try and keep a relaxed body posture and try not to want things from him. Bird training is very zen really. It's when you don't want too much that you make progress.

I'm intermittent in my yoga training. Some days I just don't get to it and feel guilty for not training which is self-defeating I know. But I do want to do yoga as the changes in me are noticeable. I am far more supple than I was this time last year. I think it's helped clear this heavy chest cold that I've had too. The deep breathing but also the inversions. I do a decent shoulder stand but haven't been game to really attempt a headstand yet. Tried yesterday and what used to be so easy felt very awkward and difficult. Will try again today. Did a backbend which I couldn't do last year. I can't stay up for very long but that's because of weakness not because it hurts my back. The Plank with bent arms is still difficult but is easier than it was before. Half Moon is much better. It really illustrates how differently the two halves of my body cope with postures. It's amazing to me that despite being fairly regular in my practice I still feel it in my body the next day. The feeling after being on the mat is tremendous. Yoga really does work all of me, stretches and invigorates.

As for meditation. Well, poo. My ability to concentrate has improved a miniscule amount. A reallly minisule amount. Usually when something is practiced regularly there is some noticeable improvement. The improvement is negligible, so much that I'm a bit defeated.

Had a really great dream two nights ago. Two paintings, influenced by William Blake's The Flea. Haven't seen that painting in quite a while but must have recalled it because of seeing a reproduction of The Red Dragon and the Woman Clothed with the Sun in the book (a horrific book BTW) The Red Dragon. (Almost decided against finishing the book as it is the mental equivalent of pigging out on ice cream and doritos). Anyway, there were two paintings; mine and someone else's - both an old yellow gold on black background of faces of a surrealist nature. I can still see the colours although I can't see the faces. I would like to try and duplicate that colour using pencil rather than pastel. May have a go today. Then again I may whiffle the day away and do nothing.