Nature is such a support for me. To see the water flowing and the leaves falling from the trees, gives me relaxation. Everything is effortless in nature. So simple; Sprouting and growing is effortless – and dying too.
I am not able to crawl and climb in nature, as I have done earlier in life. If there is a little uphill or downhill, I am barely able to walk at the moment.
I hurt my knee, because I didn’t feel my own limit for how long I could sit on it. The morphine makes me not sense when my legs fall asleep or the pain from some sitting positions. Together with the pain from the metastasis in the tailbone, it limits how I can walk.
But I do drive to places where I can walk on flat forest roads, or I let nature in through an open window.
The palliative nurse suggests me to take a higher dose of morphine, so I can be completely without pain. I don’t want to. I wish to find the balance; Enough morphine for the body to be able to relax, so the pain does not make the whole body tense. But not so much that I don’t sense my body and don’t feel the pain that is there.
I am still learning, and still failing in that 😉
I love the autumn. The explosion of colors; celebration of the let-go. Nature has no drama about death, no holding on. And the crystal clear light; autumn was always my favorite time for photography in nature.
When I connect with nature, I feel no sadness in the thought of dying. I look at the trees, and it comes this inner knowing; that in reality I am not going anywhere.
This skin will not sense the caress of the wind. But I am the wind.
These ears will not hear the birdsong. But I am the song, and the bird.
These physical eyes will not see this beauty. But I am the beauty.
I am.
Everything. And Nothing.
The body, with its senses, will go back to the earth – like the autumn leaves or the fallen tree in the forest floor.
But the one that senses through my skin… The one that is hearing through my ears… The one that is seeing through my eyes… cannot die, cannot rotten.
There is a question that has been coming up in me these last days;
“Who is dying?”
A giggle answers from within.
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