January 4, 2010

my family, family friends, and i came back back from a good solid trip to tahoe. we stayed in a cabin on the south lake, facing the california shore. it was very cold inside and out. while my family skied four days out of the seven, i skied one day. i can only hope i came back with a better resilience to frigid temperatures and blowing ice. i started meditating in earnest, which is something that i steadfastly wish to carry into the new year. we had wi-fi for a fraction of a second up there and i used it to post something trivial on facebook and research lupus nephritis type iv life expectancy on google. the isolation abetted a painful case of cabin fever, but in the stewing, many things came to light. lucky for me, the lake and the snow gave a background of nothingness that revealed things too hard to think about while living through them. for one, i had a great deal of terror this year in my second flare up - one step closer to fibrosis, closer to dialysis, closer to who knows what, and maybe more years shaved off this life. in order to continue with parsons in both spring and fall, this year i pulled out my trusty full-on denial, which progressed into a great deal of anger and at times worthlessness. (some days were more difficult than others). i thought about how terrified i am of dying. for a few days up there in the mountains, i hated the world.

what happened after wards is important. with my sister, i sat on the very edge of a small pier that extended out into the lake. sitting there, you have an unobstructed view of the entire expanse of lake tahoe and then, on all sides, rocky peaks. above, low gray clouds ready to snow, and a sharp wind. i felt like i was sitting on the lake itself, there was nothing separating me and what i saw before me. i thought about a book i am reading on meditation. i couldn't keep thinking about myself and my life the way i was. i have to love my body in poor health and keep moving. everything changes. i can not know how old i will be when i die. it's okay to feel a lot of pain. i love my family. i started feeling open and good. i think that this was a good start on something really new.

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