Beryl Singleton Bissell

Author

Beryl just prior to entering monastery in 1957



The Cross River, frozen in winter, flows beneath the ice into Lake Superior

A cup of tea and biscotti to encourage the writer

Another Blog?


Besides the travel and spirituality blogs I write (see links in right hand column)I'm adding a fourth blog for those of you who might be interested in the random musings of a writer.

Author's Guild does not provide an option for posting photos or links within the blog page -- important options for keeping a reader's interest. As such, this blog might be a solo effort, one writer who is also the one reader. Nonetheless, it offers me a place to make notes about what I'm reading, watching, doing, feeling, seeing, and thinking.

My writing shed doesn't look like much, but it's a charmer inside: bright and welcoming.

Random Musings

Finding happiness midst disability

June 27, 2012

Tags: pain, acceptance, patience, disability, finding happiness

Once I stopped fighting
And gave myself up to
limitation and pain
I realized how supremely happy I was
Just being here

On May 29, I slipped on a stairway and landed hard on my backside. First diagnosis revealed cracked open right and left sacroiliac joints. Three weeks later I wasnít making the expected improvements despite the medication, ice packs and physical therapy, so the doctor ordered a CT scan. This diagnosis included, besides the sacroiliac joints, two hairline fractures in the sacrum itself.
For almost a month Iíve been hobbling around using a walker, frustrated out of my mind at the limitations this accident place on me. The smallest movements send spasms of pain throughout my legs, lower back and buttocks. I have been unable to go downstairs to my office or walk to my writing shed. I am confined to a home in one of the most beautiful places on earth but unable to get outside for even a short walk. Fixing a meal is all but impossible. Forget cleaning up. Six days ago I started to weep. My 13-year old granddaughter, whose been trying to help, put her arms around me and laid her head against mine. Sheís been an angel and I could not manage on my own without her help but a 13-year old is not into noticing what needs to be done and I hate asking for help. Feeling sorry for myself sends my self-esteem plummeting. I donít even feel like a writer. Iíve had to cancel book signings, a gathering of writing friends five hours from here, and a 10-day retreat. I havenít even wanted to write.
But guess what? Today, while sitting on our deck, face turned to the sun, I realized what a good time Iíve really been having. Iíve discovered that by bending to the right rather than to the left I can pull on pants and tie my shoes. Iíve learned that placing my left foot flat on the ground as I step forward with my right alleviates the spasms caused by walking. That a really soft pillow cushions the pain of sitting down and a cup of afternoon tea provided by a precious teenager is simply delicious.
In giving myself up to healing, Iíve had time to read back issues of favorite magazines that have been amassing on a side table for close to a year; to make a perceptive dent in the heap of books I keep buying but never found time to read. I've watched the gold-finches and hummingbirds at our feeders and listened to the lake caress our ledge-rock. Iíve taught my granddaughter how to create hand-made cards with the flowers I dried for that purpose but never got around to. Sending her to report on the status of our river after weeks of pouring rain, revealed the poet hiding within her. Today I sat on the deck and gazed upward at the cloudless sky and realized how totally, thoroughly, happy I am. (more…)

My Work

BOOKS
The collision of human love and faith
An impetuous move to Lake Superior transforms a life
ESSAY
While writing The Scent of God
ANTHOLOGY
"Seven Years in Hell"

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