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my life and ms |
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i have never defined my life, but have just journeyed with enthusiasm. occasions of regret have left no remorse, occasions of joy have left their song, and hard lessons have left their welcome mark.
now i have multiple sclerosis, and it keeps trying to define and confine
me; to slowly disconnect my body and spirit. so i must needs consider the
direction of the remainder of my days. i must travel a road i did not choose. |
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memories and metaphors |
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i fished streams with my father and lakes with my grandfather. i swam a river with my horse and raced through grassy fields. i climbed a mountain and discovered old ocean fossils. i passed 30000 volts safely hand to hand through everyone in my grade 8 class. i climbed a tree till it bent back and returned me to the ground.
i learned the beauty of mathematics and the impossibility of calculus. i learned to sing and play old ballads and gospel songs. i talked with a priest all night in ireland. i sailed a whaler into port of spain harbour. i surfed a mountain wave with the engine off in my airplane.
i failed the university and was grounded in a baptist school. i discovered
the magic of mentors in books. i read faraday, bonhoeffer, jung, campbell.
i dreamed the dream of the morning glory. i became acquainted with many
things and mastered a few.
i drove to the yukon and raised my family in paradise. i saw my son aborning,
and later my granddaughter. i shot a caribou on a high mountain meadow
for winter food. i paddled a canoe in the midnight sun beside a beaver.
i stood in a cold dark arctic wind and was pleased to be alive.
i collected a thousand books, and a thousand songs. i earned a book with the prime minister's signature. i fixed washing machines, pipe organs and airplanes. i made beautiful things with my own hands. i created amanuenses from mere computers.
i lived in sadness beneath the planet saturn for 5 years. i distilled a peach brandy i lacked the courage to drink. i spent all my wife's money in business and lost the game. i have seen a round rainbow and a dolphin swim. but i have not heard the owl call my name. |
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now |
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i move through invisible deep snow. i walk on broken burning ice. i see
through the thin fog of a cold morning. i place my weary feet one in front
of the other, and the hours of each day gather and dispel.
but people engage my more feeble energies. i play with my grandchildren
and remember. i talk with my grown children and remember. i work and share
each day with considerate people doing fantastic things. i sing in the
church choir and know the sacred. i am daily blessed with new challenge
and new learning. |
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tomorrow |
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if i move no longer i will travel in my mind, but if i move still i will
play with children. if i see but dimly i will recall the faces of friends,
but if my eyes are still clear i will notice more things, for by then i
will have learned about intention. if my mind cannot grasp what my intention
holds, i will think of the acceptance of the lily.
if my hurt grows to fill my body i will give it no attention, but if it stays my nagging companion i will attend it. wherever this path may go i will follow and welcome it, for this is my own path, my own life, my own journey, and even what i did not choose, i have learned to value. |
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mar 2001 elias 
