Magical Thinking Again…

I am not one of the people who says of my stroke, “why me?” Why not me?

I inherited bad physical tendencies from my mother. High blood pressure. High cholesterol. And even some genetic risk factors. Thoughts of her and her stroke at the same age give me an emotional bond with her now.

I realize how lucky I am not to be worse. And yesterday I confessed my feelings to a friend who also had a stroke last year. The reality has hit me recently that living will always include a struggle. It will be difficult for me to walk and even harder for people to watch me or walk with me. I can cut vegetables and prepare dinner, but have had the experience that one slip of the knife draws blood. I can’t lift heavy hot things out of the oven and risk burns when using the stove at all. And I give more orders in my beloved garden than cut weeds.

But, I have been blessed with a fortunate birth and it’s attendant benefits. So this morning I was thinking about it Karma. What’s that about? Can I transfer my life of great blessings to someone else. Or does it happen automatically?

When my body was whole I frequently wondered if I had enough compassion for those with limitations. Would I be able to live like that? Did I really have enough gratitude to encompass the ease in which I spent my life? Because previous to my stroke I can’t say my life was a struggle. Sure I had problems and inconveniences. I had sadness. But tragedy circled around me but didn’t light. Sorrow touched the edges of my life but didn’t reach the core of my being.

When I developed uveitis a few years ago I sent a donation to SEVA* in hopes that I could help some woman in Nepal see where she was going when carrying water up and down mountains to her family. My life with hampered vision seemed cushy in comparison to hers.

Now somehow it would be wonderful to think that as I had my stroke a child’s hand could be miraculously healed and they could use it effectively for the rest of their life. For that I would happily to give up the use of mine. If that same old blind woman of my imagination could walk with ease up and down the mountain as I used to, what joy would limp along  with me.

Crazy, I know! I’d better send another check – it will be more effective. 😏



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