Owls and Orchids

Time’s miraculous passage through our lives. Image courtesy of Josephine Wall Art

“The illimitable, silent, never-resting thing called Time, rolling, rushing on, swift, silent, like an all-embracing ocean-tide, on which we and all the universe swim like exhalations, like apparitions which are, and then are not”…. ~Thomas Carlyle

It seems at one and the same time, absolutely incredible that not one month, nor two but almost three months have passed since I last wrote a post for Owls and Orchids. It has never been very far from my mind, yet there seems to have been a never-ending stream of events, of things, which needed to be done, or attended to and the days were gone before I knew it.

In some ways it was always going to happen, I simply didn’t think it would be such a long time. I made a promise to myself, that after the previous fourteen month of drug imposed restrictions that I was going to do as much as I could, to get the move from New South Wales to Queensland done – MY WAY!

Perhaps that was where things began to unravel. I was, at that time, still in a lot of pain and felt indescribably wretched from the copious amounts of antibiotics still in my system. My release from the Lyme induced prison had not yet relinquished its hold on me, even if I had been given the “all clear” that I did not, in fact, have, nor ever had Lyme disease. That alone sent my mind into dizzying circles, from which it was often hard to extricate myself. Yet, we had the move to our new home to arrange and I refused to sit, or lay, idly by whilst the hectic work revolved around me.

The new place in Redland Bay was a delightful enticement after the disappointments of Ocean Shores. I would miss the view of the ocean, but in reality, I had been ensconced in my four square prison and only intermittently was able to get outside to see and enjoy it. The irony is not lost on me that I have exchanged, what was supposed to be a location, filled with ocean views, fresh air, healthy and relaxing, for one which is, well, almost suburbia. I say almost, because we are a little off the beaten track, just in a small pocket of civilisation where I can access the dreaded pharmacy, much more easily visit my doctor and, a five-minute stroll arrive at a beautiful water enclosure, boardwalk, trees and filled with all manner of bird life and the occasional kangaroo and wallaby. We have yet to visit the spot where the wallabies come out in early morning and evening to get some photos – but, all in good time.  The camera has yet to be downloaded of all its photos!

Falling in with the packing! Image courtesy of busybeingfabulous.com

But – THE MOVE! An interminable number of boxes seemed to parade in front of me daily, each filled and taped to be replaced by another. This, after having decided not to unpack the majority of our belongings, as we felt uncomfortable within moments of getting the keys at Ocean Shores.

I achieved more in that last month than I had for the previous fourteen. I found muscles which had been hammered in the forges of medical experimentation and proclaimed loudly their new abuse. Yet it was also a good feeling. I felt once more, that I was finally achieving something worthwhile. Time seemed, not an enemy, but a friend again.

The relocation was tiring and time-consuming  as they usually are. The large spaces we had seen were rapidly engulfed by more and more boxes as the truck was unloaded. Daily more boxes were unpacked as homes for their contents were found – and yes, I was deciding where things were to be housed. It was a glorious feeling, knowing that I was arranging my kitchen, my clothes, my books, all the many things which make a house into a home. I was doing all those things once more. No longer would I wander around the house, wondering where something had been stored because I hadn’t unpacked it. Time had regained its orderly flow once more. In control and loving it – or so I like to believe. And no, I don’t believe control is the big baddy it has been made out to be.

I saw time slipping away as I rushed through each day. Image courtesy of mariana-a.deviantart.com

“Time is a very healing place, one in which you can grow.” ~Denise Tanner

Yet herein I also found my obsession again. That indefinable and inseparable part of myself which wanted everything to be placed “just so”. As things took shape around me I found a greater impetus each day to keep going, despite the increasing pain, to forge my new home into the vision I had for it. Boxes have an amazing array of hard edges and corners, a depth to them which defies normal reach and I found myself entrapped and attacked by the capriciousness of cardboard!

An unfortunate three weeks with a heavy cold cramped my style in ways I hadn’t foreseen. Frustration ran rampant, as I looked with growing dislike at the small number of boxes I had unpacked each day. This was in no way helped by an officious and supercilious doctor, who decided she knew me, my condition and what I needed more than I did after a mere five-minute consultation. So much for a simple script for antibiotics to cure the chest infection, and pain meds to help me “soldier on”. Meds I should add, which I showed her I had been prescribed by my doctor and had taken for some time. She promptly decided to re write my medication needs and refused to give me the pain meds at all. – If I’m suffering now it must be due to the uncomplimentary names I called her for several days after this visit. Needless to say, I won’t be visiting her again!
So, here we are finally. I still have my crystal display case to unpack and sort out, but that is the final item. I really prefer to leave all those fragile and sentimental items until everything else is in place. But, I’m here, and with the help of Spirit, life can begin in a new and more delightful way than ever.
Time passes and new things are found in unexpected places. Obstacles will be overcome and life can take its new path. The delights of the newly discovered will once more be mine.

Carried away on Unicorn dreams. Image courtesy of Josephine Wall Art

“Time is a brisk wind, for each hour it brings something new… but who can understand and measure its sharp breath, its mystery and its design?” ~Paracelsus

Blessings, Susan

© July 2014 Susan Jamieson