The Bird of the Heart

This will probably be another mishmash of reflections and events. My husband took himself to dialysis a couple of times, then changed his mind again. The frequent reversals of fortune are very wearing, and an opportunity to practice a state of detachment. The shower is a good place to cry.

Last week I applied for a nursing job in the clinic at the jail, and was basically apprehended by the detailed and extensive background check questionaire. It didn't help that the information had been sent in a Word document, and it was necessary to phone and email many times to get it sent by mail; this created a short time deadline. I discovered a limitation in myself, which is either weakness or extreme sensitivity. I have a strong resistance to inquiring to find out more phone numbers, emails, and home addresses from my friends, relatives, and professional references, than was originally shared with me.

It feels like prying. I wonder, also, if I am assuming I mean so little to people, that I am not worth the extra effort for people to participate in the background check. I ended up refusing to do it, and developing an attitude about it. When I dropped off the info at the office on Tacoma Avenue, I was beckoned into an office where I was quizzed about the missing information on my background history; then my work history was delved into with a rather unfriendly eye, and although the demeanor of the individual questioning me was not really unkind, I left feeling as if all my confidence had been shattered. It didn't take long for the tears to come on the way home, and I wasn't really operational for the next 24 hours or more.

Later, I thought--what did I expect? I was talking with a cop.

That Saturday I had the bounty of a prayer session with two Persian ladies for the Intensive Program of Growth. We sat upstairs in the prayer room of the "base" apartment and took turns reading or chanting prayers in English, Farsi and Arabic. My favorite part was hearing the Fire Tablet, which has a repeating refrain, recited in Arabic, and recognizing it. I felt as if I were soaring as a bird.

I continue to search for work, ambivalent in my intent. I have to look for work, so I apply to nursing jobs, but I tend to doubt how well I'll continue to function as a nurse. I'm feeling out of date and leary of the industry; my main thrust really needs to be finding an alternative, a next step. I've often wished I'd gone into counseling, but the level of education required is daunting. It feels as if I'm treading water from week to week, carrying a massive load of sadness and fear, which drains the energy I need for thinking, planning, operating.

I had lunch with my nurse friends, where we share our tales of woe, and one of them asked me how I can come across so cheerful. I told her that the most important thing that gets me through is prayer. "And," I added, "knowing I have people like you that will listen to me bellyache."

Nisqually Wildlife Refuge has become one of my favorite haunts, whether exploring on my own, or learning from a birding expedition. Recently I've seen herons while the tide was out, but not too far out, and usually see an eagle fly over from the evergreen-covered hill across the way. It often perches on a deciduous tree, sometimes soaring over the mudflats and the river, hunting/fishing.

Today I stopped to read on a bench in the shade at DeCoursey Park in Puyallup, pausing to say some prayers. When I looked up from my prayers I saw a kingfisher fly in across the river, pause on a branch and then fly on. I recognized it from the description from the first nature walk I took at Swan Creek, and I was grateful to finally see one.