So, I didn’t allow sufficient time this morning to ground myself and breathe with intention, with affirmations.  I needed to be on time at Mt Carmel East to have last week’s skin graft examined by Dr Kaplansky. “I’ll get grounded after the appointment,” I reasoned. NOPE! Although the news about my leg healing is not bad, the surgeon was no longer impressed with the effects of the wound-VAC, a reverse pressure device I’ve carried on my shoulder for 3-weeks.  Good news…I’m off the wound-VAC.  Now this means dressing changes at home EVERY DAY, rather than 3x/week.

So…I get home, tell Rachael I really need to get grounded. And I started my daily ritual, out on the front porch, with Oak Street passing by in a light humid breeze. I’m just visualizing a glossy jasper-red root, rooting my sacral chakra deep into Earth, anchoring me with a firm foundation, drawing spiritual nourishment from Gaia, but opened my eyes to see a fleet of Columbus Police Department armor convoying westward on Oak, turning up 20th at my corner…POLICE SWAT.

This matter is not facilitating my grounding, just when I realize I need to be grounded.  SWAT has absorbed all our attention with the sound of their detonated FLASH-BANG within the apartment complex behind us in Olde Towne East. A police sniper at the ready, blinklessly training his sights on the doorway that now is door-less. Then, as silently as they appeared, they disappeared. Apparently the object of their desire was elsewhere.

So, perhaps I can repeat my effort to ground, but here’s James, ready to perform a quick patch of porch ceiling & soffits to appease the bank appraiser, a band-aid to hide the wood-rot so we can close on this purchase of the American Craftsman that  we’ve rented for nine months.

But look what time it is!  I must get to work.  And still, ground-less.  My only solution, to tear my head off the pillow and allow myself an extra half-hour in the morning.


About orangeacorn

We are, I believe, and everything is, in perpetual unfolding/enfolding/evolving. By surface appearances, we're in turmoil and fearfullness, but in fact our existence is on the edge of a new way, beyond the US versus THEM we have grown with. I encourage you to join me over coffee or tea in face-to-face encounters. I call this exercise, "CAFFEINE COMMUNION: Encounters with Paradigm Pioneers." I'm a Columbus, Ohio husband, father and citizen. I practice string band sounds from the ridges of Pocahontas County, West Virginia, the vortex of the ancient drone.
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