Let Nature - 2023 07 16

 

I had taken Mom her juice earlier. She was still deep asleep. Now I heard movement in her room and went in to check. She had drunk the juice and was resting.

"Good morning, Mom!" 

"Hello, Dear." I could immediately sense that Mom was not feeling so great. 

"How are you feeling this morning?"

"Not so great. I'm a little dizzy."

My various studio spaces are finally coming together. My studio practice these days is determined by my caregiving for Mom. I work with geographic, production and conceptual constraints as each day is concerned with supporting Mom's steps - from bed to big green chair, from big green chair to wheelchair, from wheelchair to big green chair, and finally, back to bed.

"I'm sorry to hear that. You let me know if you want me to call the Home Support Nurse to see if there is anything she can offer to help you feel more comfortable."

"I'm okay now. I'm fine. The dizziness is gone!"

These steps cover all the functions of body, mind and spirit - using the commode, bathing, dressing, food preparation (meals, snacks, treats, drinks); sharing thoughts and observations, questions and quandries throughout the day, reading aloud, laughing at our predicament, enjoying being home; sitting quietly outside, hearing the breeze rustle the leaves of the lomabardi poplar, noticing the different bird calls depending on the time of day and the whether the crows have been disturbed, saying hello to passersby.

"When you are ready to get dressed give me a call and I will help you."

"Thank you. You are a great comfort."

I am able to work on my drawings when I am down in Mom's suite or upstairs in my own room. It has taken months of shifting things from floor to floor, installing whiteboards, purchasing duplicate sets of pens and pencils, and organizing transport containers for brushes and paints.

"Today is a quiet day. If we can manage it, we will get you outside in your chair and maybe join the neighbourhood block party. Otherwise, we will just take the day as it comes."

"That sounds good." 

"Would you like a cup of tea now?"

"That would be wonderful."

We are committed to letting 'nature takes its course'. This is also true of my own creative work. Needs must. I follow the path of least resistance and highest yield. 

I took Mom her tea and sat down to do some writing. A few minutes went by. I am constantly losing track of the time. Absentmindedly I got up to make Mom a cup of tea and then realized I had already done that. I went into her room to double check and sure enough there was a half cup of tea and Mom had fallen back into a deep sleep.

I could never have predicted all the life choices and decisions that led me to this place in time. I have never been here before. I know what is coming but I don't know how it will get here.

Walking back from her room I remembered that last night Mom did not have any appetite for dinner. This was unusual, she enjoys her meals and always has room for dessert. Last night she barely touched her food and declined desert. 

My studio practice reflects my life journey. Infinitely repetitious and perpetually mysterious. Life contemplating the void, a great unknown that lies just beyond my near horizon.