Three

I began writing this blog weeks before I began posting it. Now events are piling up. I'm going to continue to go chronilogical while interspersing (hopefully sensibly) more current events. Today I begin with Sunday October 18 then back up to where I left off at my last posting. If this new format makes you crazy, let me know and I'll try something else like a post-a-day until I catch up.

In my studies of fairy tales I’ve learned a little about the significance of the number three. Think of the fairy tales you know and how many things happen in threes: a man is granted three wishes, there are two failed tries to accomplish a task and there is success on the third try, three little pigs, three ugly stepsisters, and on and on. The number three is considered holy and perfect. Consider the trinity of Father, Son and Holy Spirit or the elements of earth, air and fire. There is lore as to multiples of three also; I’m not as familiar with them - 666 comes to mind.

My five-week boot camp was supposed to end with Doug’s training last Friday (October 16) but I have decided to prolong it indefinitely. I am continuing the exercise and healthful eating and adding a spiritual focus. Sunday, when I did yoga, I held the various poses for a count of six breaths– three doubled. As I held each pose I did not count 1-2-3-4-5-6, rather, I thought Father, Son, Holy Spirit, my body, my mind, my spirit (the last three I borrowed from the YMCA’s motto of a healthy body, mind and spirit). As I worked through the poses with these words repeating in my mind I thought of the connections between them. Not just the connection between the first three and the last three but between all of them. God is one; God is three; God is three in one. I am one; I am three; I am three in one. Are God and I six in one?

During my two hours of walking yesterday (running errands to Target, the grocery store and the library) I prayed. Walking is when I do my best communion with God. If I try to pray before bed, it does not usually last long. I fall asleep. I’ve tried meditating with moderate success but I get very sleepy. Same with kneeling, plus my legs get tired of being knotted up and they miss their blood supply. So when I really want to talk to God, I walk.

I prayed for my faith to get stronger and that I would learn to listen for the ‘voice’ of God and recognize it better so that when I got to this strange, predominately Muslim country I would be ready to listen and learn of their faith in all confidence that I was on the right track. Not, note, that I would be right and all others wrong. No. Just as I said, so I would be comfortable in my own faith as the right direction for me. I prayed that I could learn, discerning without judgment, about the Muslim faith.

I should tell you that when I was in my twenties I prayed for my future husband, whoever he was. So yesterday I prayed for the people who I would be meeting in Tashkent. I prayed that they would be able to learn from me while discerning without judgment. I prayed that I would know how to handle the local police whom, I have read, are corrupt. Should I smile? Greet them? Ignore them? Avoid them? My fear with the police situation is that I will either live there in constant anger of getting illegally shaken down for money at every turn, never leave home for fear of them or get thrown in the pokey for sassing off to them (read - telling them the truth).

Great perspectives are drawn out of prayer. Our minds are so much more intensely powerful than we know. We spend so much time doing mundane, repetitious, unchallenging things that we rarely realize the impact they can have not only in our own lives but the lives of those around us. The reason I entitled this blog “If I Can . . .” is to show one woman’s progress in hopes that it will encourage others to go for something important no matter how challenging. Sometimes I feel boastful. I do not like that and do not mean to relate these stories as a boast. You who have known me know my weaknesses (chocolate, candy, chocolate, Pepsi, chocolate . . .) so if I can sit and eat broccoli everyday (hate it) there is something you know of that you can do. Most of you have seen me in a more formal, professional setting (piano lessons, choir practice, class) so you may have never seen me shoot off my mouth. I lost a dear, dear student to that once. When I relate that I handled a situation well, I am proud because I know how crass I was for so many years. When I say for the twentieth time how glad I am to keep up exercise every day it’s because I am truly amazed that I can teach myself new habits and learn a discipline at age 47. This has all come about from this amazing combination of God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Spirit, my body, my mind and my spirit. It takes a village. . .

At last post, I left you with Doug and I going through the medical clearance process. I hope to someday learn to communicate effectively with those around me. I want to speak their language. I want them to understand me and respond intelligibly to me. Evidently I’m asking too much. I make the hour and a half drive to the Mayo Clinic rather than going to a local physician for good reasons including the inability of local physicians to recognize a broken finger in the x-ray of a piano teacher, their administration’s lack of understanding the definition of the word “prevention” in billing and their staff’s incompetence in making appointments. Details by request only, I’m sick of the entire matter. Suffice to say, if I have an infected hangnail I will drive to the Mayo clinic before I’ll seek any more local help.

I have sung Mayo’s praises. Gods work at the Mayo center. As all bubbles are destined, mine popped today. I’m sure it’s my fault. The doctor I saw last year wasn’t available so I made an appointment with another. Mistake number one on my part. This new doctor didn’t receive the information we sent the week previous to the appointment nor did she bother to read my file (her admission, not my assumption – she’d been on vacation). The single day of appointments turned into a day and a half. No big deal. Everyone errs – even the Mayo gods. This doctor did not order one of the tests we specifically requested because, “It’s really expensive.” No kidding. I stared at her and said I need that test as part of the medical clearance requirement. “But it costs something like hundreds of dollars.” “I . . . NEED . . . it.” Anyone else not getting this? It took this doctor a while. That’s what kept us there the extra day and sent needle-phobe me twice to have blood drawn. Fie.