This is one of my favorite photos, taken during a heavenly late-September vacation in Vermont, a place where one can easily pause in the midst of sublime beauty. If only I could time travel...
Found the video at the bottom of this post on Sherry's blog, Esprit d' Art, she'd found it on another blogger's site, who'd gotten from another blog... at any rate, it's well worth the watch. How often do we take time out to really think... about what might be going on with people we encounter on a casual basis, whether or not they cause us a delay? One of the benefits of living with chronic illness is moving at a slower pace than many people. Over time, it results in living in the moment, paying more attention to the small stuff and taking in more detail. On a bad day it's like standing on the ground while the rest of the world whirls by on a merry-go-round; no stops, no tickets. Invisible illness becomes invisibility. After three years I've learned to appreciate the many silver linings in this cloud, though the word invisible is key.
No telling how many times I pull into a handicapped space (permit hanging on rearview) in a crowded, mega parking lot while at least one driver rolls their eyes, no doubt wondering why a healthy looking person like me could be so rude.
One of my best friends lost his wife, also my dear friend, a year and a half ago. Their dog who had been a constant bedside companion, was bereft, and my friend could no longer leave the pup alone without incurring major damage. So, he had to take Gracie with him wherever he went. One cool late autumn night, he had the opportunity to see a movie with a friend while Gracie curled in the passenger side floor, with more than adequate ventilation, food and water. For an hour and a half. When he got to his car a vicious note from a 'well-meaning' passerby was stuck to the window, berating him, in detail, for being a negligent pet owner. I still get angry when I think about that. Not long after, the grieving dog had to go live with a friend where she could have playmates and constant attention.
I wonder how that, um, person, would have felt had he/she known the circumstances, let alone the fact that the dog wasn't compromised in any way. Why can it be so much easier to jab at others instead of dealing with our own pain, complain without thinking, judge instead of shifting perspective, understanding... So thanks, Sherry, hopefully the message won't stop here.
Speaking of cancer, there is a lot in the media now about supporting breast cancer research. I just bought a lovely collage from Sherry's Shop for the Cure site, which you can navigate to from her blog. Though I know what it's like to be sick a lot, thankfully I haven't yet encountered the big "C" personally. But, I've been impacted enough to want to be part of the growing movement to ensure that the search for a cure is as exhaustive and intensive as the disease. So, I urge you to do the same - donate, wear a pink pin or bracelet, sponsor a survivor in a 10K, watch for ways to participate during awareness month; be vigilant all year long, have a mammogram and urge your mother/sisters/friends/blog buddies/co-workers to do the same.
And while you're at it, next time you're in a hurry, slow down for just a minute and enjoy the turning of the season away from the dog days of summer to the colorful, cool autumn nights.