Crossings of No Return revisited
Well, I can’t say this was the most exciting week of my life. Nor is next week looking great. Not that there aren’t high points. Rather, it’s the other stuff that’s sitting there waiting for resolution of some kind.
These days, it’s all about food. Not what I’m eating, but what I’m not eating enough of. This past week I’ve been awash in information about how to get my potassium level up. Given my strange history with food, this isn’t a slam dunk.
Perhaps you already know about hypokalemia. I didn’t. Last week I saw my cardiologist. This coming week I see my kidney doctor. I’m hoping we can get on the same page, and that I can keep up with the challenge.
In the meantime, this poem from Without a Flight Plan caught my eye. I first published “Crossings of No Return” in April 2017. I don’t have any more answers today than I had back then. In fact, we seem to be spiraling out of control without any clear commitment to living differently on this aching planet. Not just as citizens, but as individuals dealing with unknown or unanticipated health and welfare issues.
Crossings of No Return
Crossings. . . .
The word resonates with finality
Hints of danger and uncertainty
Sorrow and desperation
Weary clothes and
One foot in front of the other
Backs burdened with life’s necessities
Bodies and bellies heavy
With tomorrow’s children
They say our world is disappearing
Melting and boiling away before our eyes
Erupting into a chaotic crisis
Unknown in modern times
Are we ready for this crossing?
Bottom line: Many of us face heart-wrenching sorrow and terrifying uncertainty in today’s world. It isn’t new. It’s in our faces. We can’t ignore it or pretend it will go away following our next election. Nor can we set ourselves apart in a ‘special’ category of human beings who for one reason or another are doing fine, just fine.
As for me, my own sense of security has been carried for decades on the backs of people who never asked to be treated as less than fully human beings. I used to think my family of origin was poor. It was not, all evidence to the contrary. It’s a bit like potassium. If I’m not getting enough of it, it’s because I’m turning my attention to other things–hoping against hope that I’ll make it through in spite of my blindness to reality.
Praying you’ll find small ways to make a difference in the lives of people around you. Not in big, bold ways, but in small ways–maybe half a banana?
Thanks for stopping by!
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 20 May 2023
Photo found at morningchores.com