I Am Not My Diagnosis

Author: siggy

I am not my diagnosis.  I could state it but it does not matter.  I am a man who loves all kinds of music, writes poetry, letters and other things.  I love nature particularly the birds I attract with all my feeders.  I am married to a woman I love who is not quite the same but loves a lot of the same things particularly music from the same era.  She is not perfect but close.  We both love to read and I have more books in my house that I ever had before.  She loves mysteries.  I don’t.  But our tastes in books and music is very eclectic.  Music and books are all over the house.  She usually lets me be.  I am not as good as her in that regard and sometimes have to learn to be quiet.  We have our own space in our house.  I love the mountains, the lakes and ocean.  So does she.  We live on the edge of country.  I am all these things and more.  I am not my diagnosis I have to state again.  That is just an artificial artifact.  The doctors need that and my insurance.  That is the only purpose of my diagnosis.  It is not me.

The Edge Of Country

Author: siggy

I have always lived at the edge of country.  Of course, some people are more divorced from it if they are surrounded by concrete but it is always there you just have to look a little harder.

Growing up I watched my mother plant vegetables and flowers and other things.  We had a mulberry and fig and apricot tree and some of the biggest blackberries I have ever seen.

It was a small plot of land but she tilled it well.  We had fresh string beans and tomatoes.  She loved roses.  The garden was a place she could disappear in.  And she often did for hours.

We lived in a bustling little city but that garden we had was an introduction to many things.  I learned to love deep red stemmed roses.

On weekends my father brought us into the country, mountains and shore but most of my life I lived in the edge of country.  I learned to appreciate what came my way.

Today I still love birds.  I have several bird feeders that I can view from our large living room windows and watch a steady parade of chickadees and titmouse and woodpeckers just to name a few.

It all started in Mom’s garden and the weekend trips we took as a family.  I learned to love the mountains and trees and lakes and and so many other things.

The River and the mountains and sky are ever changing.  Every time I go to the river everything changes.  The light hits the water differently.  Shades of gray and blue are ever present.  I am awed every time.  And thank God I am able to view this beauty.

Sometimes I view the River from a passing car other times I am standing at its shore.  I never know what I will see exactly.  This week early in the morning I flushed a blue heron and watched it fly to the other side joining another one in flight there.

I feel blessed living so close to such a magnificent River and Mountains.  Every day I am reminded of that.  There are many people who do not live so close to a major River.  And a good part of my life I did not either.

Every time I pass a river or creek I want to look upstream or downstream. I don’t know always know why. On certain bridges, I hope to spot a great egret or a snowy egret, a considerably smaller bird, although both are completely white.

It always has something to do with the unknown. I never know exactly what to expect. Even when the river is parallel to the road I still try to peer between the rapidly passing trees to see what I could see.

Every body of water fascinates me from no matter from what vantage point I view it–car, train, whatever. I have been this way as long as I remember.

I keep my eyes peeled for any ducks or other kind of birds that I pass always wanting to identify them. I was amazed that one of two visiting friends (from NYC) could not identify a bird as common as a male cardinal. I guess you do not see many birds in the middle of the city.

I have always made it my business to name the birds I see. And if I see one I don’t recognize, I try to remember some distinct feature of it so I can consult my bird book and properly identify it.

I always pay attention to the birds around me. I grew up in the city but my Mom had a garden with all kinds of things in it including tomatoes and all kind of flowers, an apricot tree and even a fig tree. And that is, of course, an incomplete list.

On weekends my Dad often took us to the mountains and seashore and lakes. I owe both of my parents a great debt for introducing me to nature. I grew to love birds and took care studying them and loved to identify them–even from a speeding car. I learned to respect nature and the wild.

I stood at the River’s banks.  Usually after I had coffee and sometimes breakfast at the local diner on the way home I would stop at the bank of the River and gaze out at the surface of the water and the mountains.  I never spent a long time there.

It has been several months since I was at this spot.  The wind was blowing on the surface of water stirring it up.  It was not too cold and not too warm.  Rain clouds were in the distance.

Fall had come.  There was a slight chill in the air although I really wasn’t cold yet.  Coming here is always like entering another world.  Sure I often pass the River from a distance but peering out from its shore is always a different experience.

Too much time had passed from my last visit.  Now I no longer wanted to be here.  It was a little uncomfortable although it still was a mild sixty-two degrees.  I knew I would now only view the River from a distance until it got warmer again.

There was some regret:  too much time had passed since my last visit.  I had missed too much.  Its face is always different:  The lighting is always different on the sky, water and mountains and trees.  Every visit.  I now will await the warmer weather.

I only spend a short time there:  After a quick cup or two of coffee at the local diner, I drive to the nearby Susquehanna River.  I view the ever-changing water and mountains lit by the upcoming dawn.  It is such a short time I spend here but it may be the most important part of my day.

The seconds here (and they are not more than that) remind me there is a world, universe just below my sight that I have no idea of.  I am transported to another world.  The time here reminds me I have to be aware what is just beneath my eyes may be a world I know nothing of.

This tantalizes me.  It also prompts me to be more alert of every step I take.  The familiar may have become too familiar.  Habits sometimes imprison you and somehow you need to free yourself of them and see what truly is there for the first time.

My short visit to The River is a reminder that I often have blinders on and must take them off.  There is world after world just below the worlds we are familiar with.

Even your own backyards which you view every day can become too familiar to you and if you can change your focus another universe will open up to you.  Universe after universe is right under your eyes.  There are no lack of universes to explore.  All you have to do is remove the veil under your eyes.  My visit to the shore of the River is a daily reminder of this.