Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer · 2 Comments

Laughing Gas Enlightenment

Not having perfected the one-handed typing technique, this post will be short as I am still needing to hold the ice bag to my post-operative cheek.

Yes, I ventured into the mists. And though I didn’t walk there like the ancient Chinese poets, I was still gifted with a nitrous oxide-induced moment of divinity.

Here at home, as I rest and heal, I recall how I lay beneath the mask in the dentist chair. The misty cool entering my nostrils in a whirring, soft hiss. How soon, some goofy smile spread across my face, despite myself. And then the elation. All points culminating to that time and place. A reverberating space where there existed one simple truth: nothing is all that serious.

What was real was a pervasive sense of happiness. And in that moment, all was right with the world.

And then everything faded as the anesthesia took over and my wisdom teeth were extracted from my jaw.

Jessica Dofflemyer

Surfacing from the haze, I linger with that silly smile that bloomed upon my face. I want to remember that and conjure it for the rest of my days. Tap that source that doesn’t need a tank of nitrous oxide.

Right now it hurts a bit to grin that big. Right now, it’s just me and my starry ice pack. Arnica and carrot juice. Salt water swishes. But I’m still basking in the gift the mists of nitrous oxide gave me.

Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer · 2 Comments

Into the Mists

The Old Poets of China

Wherever I am, the world comes after me.
It offers me its busyness. It does not believe
that I do not want it. Now I understand
why the old poets of China went so far and high
into the mountains, then crept into the pale mist.

~ Mary Oliver

courtesy of palindrome6996

In my own way, today, I drift into the mists. Anesthesia-induced, yes. Though it still counts. I’ll think of it as time travel.

And when I come back to this world, my retreat will begin. Bed and rest. I’ve put everything in order. The busy will go on without me.

If I’ve got to pull some wisdom teeth to get my modern hermitage, then so be it.

Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer · 1 Comment

Respiration, Jumping Jacks and the Thread

At 5:55am, I have no idea what today brings.

I tried that trick a friend told me about. Jumping up and down within the first 15 minutes of waking. Repeating the mantra “Abundance is here now!” Or inserting whatever you wish to be here now: “Love is here now!” “Health is here now!” “Happiness is here now!”

He says it’s a fun way to set the tone for the day. But I live on the second story so I was sort of making quiet, 5:15-in-the-morning hops. I was too lazy to go outside in the dark on the wet grass. So my jumping jack intention may have had only half-power. But you, see, I’m trying.

Following these threads. Listening for guidance.

Tomorrow my wisdom teeth are extracted. Yesterday, Jeb got a prescription for antibiotics for some funk in his chest. Today’s events are yet unknown.

If I begin to think about the work I have to do, the preparations needed for the upcoming days and the obligations I have to fulfill, I think those jumping jacks would turn into the fetal position. Alas, a mother has no option to assume this position.

In fact, in this “now”, a mother may have no more time to post a rambling Archive post about following a thread, as her sick child emerges from bed with a sweaty head and whispered voice.

I’ve leaned on the words of William Stafford before. Quoted him right here in the Archives. I like to think of his reference to the thread as a description of the artistic process. But it’s not only that. It’s about so much more. So much more, that it then becomes elementary.

courtesy of noii

Perhaps that thread is simply the essence of life. An essence most readily touched breath by breath. That respiration our heartbeats track, weaving moments to days, days to a living.

In a day, chaotic, like today. Uncertain. I hold the thread of the present moment, following it and trusting that all will unfold in some way that will be ok.

“Now is here now!” And I guess later will be here later.

One step at a time, I follow this thread. Watch for magic in unexpected places. Hopefully laugh a little (or a lot).

Trust.

The Way It Is

There’s a thread you follow. It goes among
things that change.  But it doesn’t change.
People wonder about what you are pursuing.
You have to explain about the thread.
But it is hard for others to see.
While you hold it you can’t get lost.
Tragedies happen; people get hurt
or die; and you suffer and get old.
Nothing you do can stop time’s unfolding.
You don’t ever let go of the thread.

~ William Stafford ~