I went to a dermatologist a few weeks ago because my family doctor was concerned about a few marks on my back.  I leapt to the possibility of cancer.  It wasn’t.  The doctor froze the spots, saying the skin would fall off “in a week or two”.  Some of them did.  One didn’t.

On one of the marks, a little flap of skin loosened but the rest of it was still attached to my back.  I fingered the flap several times a day, urging it on.

There we go … two paragraphs about something so minor, but also symbolic.

In Canada I loved walking in the woods in the fall, watching the leaves drift down.  Here’s a red one, perhaps in the last moments of clinging before letting go.  Happily, my wanderings were not punctuated by upturned shouts of “C’mon.  Drop!  I don’t have all day.”

And then there’s the butterfly, struggling to break out of the cocoon.  There have been stories of empathetic human beings “helping” … and the butterfly afterwards being too weak to fly.

For good measure, here’s another example:

I’m weak, sleepy, at times dizzy.  My granddaughter Maryna is also my personal trainer, and I have a session scheduled with her tomorrow.  I would like to have fitness return really fast.  But what I like is irrelevant.  My body is saying no.  I’m saying no.

***

I’m discovered a good guiding principle: When in doubt, consult a poet.  In this moment, it’s John O’Donohue …

This is the time to be slow
Lie low to the wall
Until the bitter weather passes

Try, as best you can, not to let
The wire brush of doubt
Scrape from your heart
All sense of yourself
And your hesitant light

If you remain generous
Time will come good
And you will find your feet
Again on fresh pastures of promise
Where the air will be kind
And blushed with beginning