I’m getting back to painting this week. This morning I spent time working on the 1-10/ Fredericksburg Rd intersection. I’m a little happier with it now that I’m sitting a few feet away from it. It’s always nice to have several paintings that I can sit and look at. Planning my approach makes it much easier to get back into a painting. Sometimes it’s like writer’s block, I just sit in front of it not knowing which way to go. When I can spend time looking at it I can pick out things I want to change or embellish.
Last week, or week and a half ago, I got really sick. I assumed it was covid but five tests were negative, including a PCR test. So confusing. I was talking to a friend and she said her parents and her brother all tested positive and none of them had a single symptom. They tested because her bother’s girlfriend tested positive. So, did they have covid? Were they carriers of it? Did I have covid and five false-negative tests? It’s a touchy subject. A few people wanted to argue that I really had covid. I don’t blame them. I felt like I had covid. I’ve never had it (as far as I’m aware) and this was the worst I’ve felt in several years. It just seemed like it should have been covid but I guess I’m going to trust the tests.
I was bedridden with a fever Thursday through Sunday. Monday I woke up and my fever had broken but I felt like I’d been hit by a truck. Wednesday was the first day that I felt like myself. I spent a few says trying to catch up with things that I wasn’t able to get to while I was sick like laundry and stocking the house with groceries. I’m so grateful that I can do those things.
This weekend I went out of town to horse sit. My mom has a horse and a donkey, Paz and Mr Bentley respectively. I was supposed to feed Paz Saturday night and Sunday and the rest of the time relax on the great screened-in porch she has. But unfortunately Paz was lame, so I spent a lot of time watching him and caring for his leg. It was stressful because all I know about horses is how to feed them. I don’t know the first thing about nursing them much less taking them to the vet. They are enormous animals and quite overwhelming.
Luckily two of my mom’s friends came by and gave him something called Bute, which is like ibuprofen for horses. They also put a clay poultice on his swollen ankle to draw out the swelling and infection. In a few hours I noticed he was walking around without limping. That was a relief. I left last night and this morning a woman was supposed to take him to the vet. I’ll check in later to see how he’s doing.
Asking for help is so hard. I went out of town last summer and asked a friend to come water the plants. I worried about things going wrong and her feeling burdened by it. I would have felt awful if watering plants had turned into something she neither wanted to do nor felt equipped to do. I can only imagine what my mom must have felt trying to get a much needed vacation only to spend it working about her horse.
I guess those are the experiences that make us appreciate the people we can depend on. I’ve always wanted to be someone who can handle everything. As a young adult I think I felt overwhelmed by all the new responsibilities I had. Like most young adults I felt unprepared. Of course at the time, I thought everyone else was prepared but me. It wasn’t until later in life that I realized you can’t forgo transitions. Life is full of them and they happen whether we’re in the mood for change or not.
I notice that I like helping. I like feeling needed. It can feel like a burden, or like it’s over my head, but knowing that I can step up and give someone a hand makes me feel good. I think my mom’s friends felt the same way. They seemed not only happy to help her and Paz, but happy to help me as well. After all, I was horse sitting and had no idea what I was doing. This majestic animal weighs maybe a thousand pounds. Paz is a senior guy so he’s not all jittery and high strung. But I have to admit, leaning down by his foot so I could hose it off was not where I wanted my head to be. Just saying.
It’s hard to ask for help, but it can be satisfying to give it. Easy to remember when you’re helping. Hard to remember when you’re asking. Why is that? I can often get isolated and caught up in my own life, not always paying attention to others much less offering to help out. Being of service is supposed to be a cornerstone of living a spiritual life. I think after this weekend I’m going to think about that a lot more.