Just filled up on oatmeal with dried apricots and peanut butter rolled into it. Yea, and a couple of cups of coffee and here I am. That’s my prep for this post today and then the darkness fading outside helps. I have been thinking about poetry and this poet that Steve-O has dropped into my life, our lives, Ted Kooser.

In the Wayne Dyer book that I finished reading last week there were some words praising poets as people who see possibilities that might not be apparent to us in our normal everyday existence. You know we studied poetry in school and it was more about the different forms and the mechanics. I can’t recall spending much time on the stuff Dr Wayne is talking about.

Of course a lot of the Old Testament of the Bible is free verse. The Psalms, for instance are good examples. This is the stuff Our Catherine wants to study and I am warming to the idea. Maybe all these things are coming in at the same time for a reason. Hmmm.

Anyway, maybe back to poet Ted. I need to get you a little background on him because his story dovetails with my story, at least about working with cancer is concerned. Here is the preface to the book paraphrased by me:

“In the autumn of 1998, during my surgery and recovery for cancer, I began taking a two mile walk each morning.”. I was told by my doc to stay out of the sun so I walked early. I hadn’t been reading or writing for a long while as I was “feeling miserably sorry for myself”. As the fall turned into winter my health began to improve and I started walking. One morning I tried my hand at a poem and I have been writing since. So, this book is one hundred of these morning visions.

Yea, I can relate to that. And maybe poetry is a better way to express some of the occasions that are involved with “battling cancer” and the “end of life” experience. Perhaps this is something to explore for old Felipe.

My oldest friend from Buffalo, NY that I grew up with in the 1950’s will love to hear of me on this path. He is a big poetry buff. He can be so enthusiastic about it that it’s catchy. I remember him saying that some poetry you have to live with like when a horse rubs on the boards of his stall and wears big dish shaped concavities in them. You have to sort of gnaw on it over time real close and personal to grasp it in all it’s levels.

I talked about this with My Rebecca who writes poetry in binges and whose words and easily understood with a form that rhymes. That’s her style as a word person. I think I am of a different school although I enjoy her writing and thoughts. And I can’t imagine being as prolific as she is but maybe.

Just my thoughts on a Friday morning before going off to the big city with Our Jennifer. Off to “battle cancer”, alperfect, love you, Felipe.

We were off to treatment yesterday, Our Jennifer and I. She has been having major challenges with her treatments lately. I have just been cruising along doing the minimum with mine. My nurse said to me that my friendship was doing a lot for Jennifer. And my quick response was “vice versa”. A little glib but true.

Steve-O was in to sit with us and he wanted a drawing lesson and that went well. In that situation the teacher, me, has to give something that is informative and motivational and not too much of a challenge. And in the process tell the student, Sharp Pencil Steve, that there are many ways to skin a cat and not influence his path too much with the old “there is only one way to do things”. There are ways undiscovered yet, right?

So, back to the vice versa, Steve brought along a book of poetry for me. It is Ted Kooser’s “Winter Morning Walks – one hundred post cards to Jim Harrison”. Ted is a wonderful soulful poet that has pieces in The New Yorker and other mags, and in Poet Laureate of something or other. And he had or has a correspondence of longstanding with the Jim Harrison in the title. For a while they would write too each other in haiku, which seems borderline kinky but cool. So, these poems, WMW’s, were written and put on post cards and sent off to this same dude. A hundred were chosen for this book. And this book has given me the idea that maybe I should try my hand at this kind of thing. My Rebecca calls it free verse.

Here is one, the last one in the book:

March 20

How important it must be
to someone
that I am alive, and walking,
and that I have written
these poems.
This morning the sun stood
right at the end of the road
and waited for me.

Yea, he is talking about the visa versa of things. Sister Joyce always stresses this with old Felipe. I thank her for her time with me and she says that she gets something important out of it also. It is the kind of thing that has developed between Annie and myself and Pilgrim Farmer John and myself also beside Jennifer and Steve. And as we attempt to get closer to God we have to remember He loves to see us and gets a kick out of us I think, the ultimate vice versa.

Yup, off to Thursday, thanks for your time with me here at Caminoheads, love as always, Felipe.

Maybe I can get this post out to you while I am getting hooked up here to my chemicals. Fun to see people here. Sad that one nurse is transferring up to Edmonds. The staff comes and goes somewhat.

The fish tank guy was here to maintain the big salt water tank in the waiting room. This is big fun as waiting room entertainment goes. It’s quite an elaborate operation: feeding, cleaning, other stuff. I’ve talked to the guy in the past. He’s more fun than the plant guys.

Then Our Jennifer packed this giant lunch, looks like we are going up the Amazon for a month. Let’s see what’s on the menu today? We have Logger’s Stew, pickled beets, bread, apple sauce, orange jello. We might need some help.

A friend of Jennifer’s just showed up and Steve-O is going to be here any moment. He had this great request, that he wanted a drawing lesson. OK, no problem, we can do that.

Then I brought some rhubarb plants for another nurse that requested them last spring when I had brought her some stalks. They look strange in the bag here, very un hospital like. Doesn’t look like a bomb though. This could be important maybe as the intended recipient is not on duty today and given my memory this strange package could be spending the night.

This is kind of what it looks like here. You know, we just try our best to make it all fun. So we will carry on in our rowdy fashion until instructed other wise, love you, Felipe.

Just a little dream. I’m always amazed by how much is communicated in a short time or with few characters or few props in dreams. A feeling is passed on without a lot of explanation or fanfare. Anyway, I had a little dream which was very peaceful and helpful.

Wiley and I were college roommates. Yea, pretty funny because the chance of that happening in reality are pretty nil. We had some pretty funky albergue type housing. And for some reason he had gotten there a few days before and I was trying to catch up and make sense of the details. There seemed to be a lot of keys to figure out and schedules to interpret. But we were working together on it.

Well, that dream just flowed into our early morning time together. He’s gone now, off to his new job as a framing carpenter, hard work and putting up with the rain and cold. The same thing I did forty years ago. We spend an hour together each weekday morning in that early neither world when you could both tear each other’s head off if you were sloppy or uncaring. I’m happy with the whole thing, waking and dreaming.

OK, off to work. And off to the hospital tomorrow. But not off from loving you, Felipe.

I can whine with the best of them but I will try and wrap up my winter blues whining today. We have a new month, there is noticeably more light to the day, bulbs are sending up shoots and maybe the best thing, the hens are laying again. Wiley and I had fresh neighborhood eggs for breakfast a few moments ago to celebrate. So things are happening in the spring department, time to get with it Felipe.

Time to get positive, get moving, right? One of the nurses at the hospital wanted me to bring her some rhubarb plants, time to dig those up. Terry from Sabbath Moment was over Saturday and gave me some ideas about blogging and bible study that are useful and maybe lead to a few changes. Our Jennifer has been worried about me and I need to do something about that. She doesn’t any extra worry. Yea, stuff going on.

Pilgrim Farmer John checked in last night with a comment on “What Is Love?” which is lovely. The post was part of the reading that I heard on Sunday morning at church here and he read at his Iowa church. He was the lector which he has been doing for a long while apparently. We are learning more about him as time goes on. But the main thing is that he has to fight choking up sometimes while reading particularly juicy parts of the bible. This happens to Caminoheads.

OK, time to walk here in a few moments. We are getting down the road to Burgos and the Cathedral there and thoughts of historical guys like El Cid. Burgos is where Kelly and I last saw Gracie our Australian Camino buddy. She was the one who saved my head from bonking on the stone floor of the church where I passed out. Falling into the arms of Grace I call it. A Camino moment, a Camino buddy for sure. God bless you Gracie.

And God bless you and your day, love, Felipe.

I am walking up a storm lately trying to tire out Roan the Irish Setter we are dog sitting. I think he is winning. So since last Sunday we have made: Vitoria del Rioha, Villamayor del Rio, Belorado, Tosantos and Villabistia. 44 kilometers to go to Burgos.

The current walking schedule:
Monday 0900-1000
Tuesday 1530-1630
Thursday 0900-1000
Sunday 1530-1630

Still need rubber boots but not quite sunscreen. Felipe.