IT WAS PNEUMONIA

Watched the sun like liquid light spreading over the tree outside the window, slowly, without pause, flowing like the Hirub over the leaves and down the bark of the deodar and before I knew it, there it was, streaming through the east window, lighting up the room, and turning Bhalli’s black tail, where she slept on her down bed, into a lovely russet red. The unwellness was pneumonia and today, after my fifth dose of azithromycin, I am returning to my life as I live and want to live it. Yet these periods are necessary preparation for the time when I will be have to assent to my life and energy being taken away, in mid note, as with the repeatedly remembered lesson learned from the flute from that anonymous teacher so far back and away. She told me I hold my flute too tightly. I should hold it so lightly that if she reached for it at any point in my playing it should fall into her hands easily. Most of the time I was peaceful, in another zone, without thoughts or worries, just the realization of the need to rest, rest, and rest. Did not get out of bed, or bathe, though brushing the teeth felt absolutely essential, did not go downstairs because it was so difficult climbing up again, could not speak or listen for lack of energy (realized how much energy it takes to listen). But I did have the silent energy to go through the edits of the book, respond, provide sources, which was a huge task,  and correspond with my editor, Courtney mainly through cell phone email. Yesterday I sat briefly by the stream, in the sun, working on the book but I was so tired out that I had to return to bed.