Tuesday, June 25, 2013

The Gift of Fading Blooms

NOTE: Google Friend Follow is closing July 1. You may continue to follow The Marmelade Gypsy through Bloglovin' or email subscription. There are links for both on the sidebar.
I recently had an MRI to determine if my rotator cuff was torn by my fall (it wasn't; just bursitis). I will never understand why they can't invent an MRI to do a shoulder (isolated in it's own little cuff inside the electric coffin). Instead, in you go, full body with ear plugs (that really don't work) for half hour that sounded the like sea-plane convention we do our best to avoid each year on our lake!
I suspect it was because of the rattled nerves of the done (or done-in) MRI patients that there is a lovely meditation garden just steps away from the building.
I really needed it after that!
The garden isn't large -- a path lined by trees, plants and flowers -- with a pond, a small bridge and a spot with several resting benches.
You never know who you'll encounter there.
Walking the garden was quiet and lovely. It helped me get my sanity back after the MRI.
The pond was in full glory, filled with blooming lily pads.
The koi were out, too! I loved how they swam under the bridge and back. Despite the "Do Not Feed the Fish" signs, I'm sure they have had a few errant walkers and they were prepared.
I couldn't help but notice that many of the blooms in the garden were past their peak.
Like me.
Blossoms were falling, some of the petals had been damaged. Perhaps by insects. Perhaps by time.
Even the petals on some of the roses were beginning to turn backwards, as though they might be all inside out soon enough.
And yet there was still a quiet beauty about them. That rose smelled as sweet as any of the others. Perhaps even more so. It was as though every fading flower knew their time for being the best bloom on the block was limited, and yet they were still giving it their all.
And in doing so, one could see more deeply within and note how elegantly they were structured, how their seeds would move on to settle in the earth for another year when they would bloom again.
Even the waterlilies, so stunning as they floated on their pods, would come to an end. But today, they were smiling.
I couldn't help but note that new buds were beginning to pop out and that there would be great beauty in this garden, long after the poppies had dropped their petals.
And they will fade at some point as well. The Japanese maple that shows its red leaves now will eventually be joined by the oaks, maples and sumac in their show of color.
Winter will come to our garden.
And then spring and summer once more.
New flowers and plants and trees will find their place -- and each will be beautiful in its own way.
There will be love. And beauty.
And so it goes. And goes. And goes.

I wrote this last week after my shoulder injury and when I was expecting test results from my lung cultures today. This morning I called to make sure I didn't have to go in again just to have them say, "Sorry, we don't have your results back. It was good I did, because they didn't have them back, so I am rescheduled for late August (first available).

To say I am discouraged (and exhausted) would be an understatement. I'm trying SO hard to be positive, but the waiting is getting me down. Sometimes I think I am going stark, raving mad. Or totally off the wall. Take your pick.

Just wanted to share with you as you've been so kind to ask. If it wasn't pouring so hard, I'd seek this garden out again today.


Anonymous said...

Mad is my choice... who could resist a Hatter. :) I hope you get your answers soon, friend. Hang in there.
The garden views are dreamy. The lily pond looks like a peek at Monet's Garden. So beautiful and peaceful. Glad you shared.
Now, breathe...and sip that tea, mad and all. :)

Keicha Christiansen said...

I laughed at what you wrote about the meditation garden being there for MRI patients. It looks like a beautiful, serene place. Hopefully it helped calm your jarred nerves.

I'm so sorry to hear that you're still waiting for answers. From my perspective you're remaining remarkably positive. Being a little discouraged seems a normal response. I hope you realize you aren't alone with many cyber friends who care about you, myself included. Take care.

Barb said...

Oh, Jeanie - your thoughts and photos are so meaningful to me. I hope you can reach this place of peace again - even if you don't visit the garden, I know it's inside you. So hard - not knowing - but so much a part of life.

Barb said...

PS The koi are so beautifully colored and so BIG!

Lisa from Lisa's Yarns said...

Ugh. Sometimes waiting is the worst part. Once you know what the next steps are and can attack them, it is almost a bit easier. But the waiting and waiting and waiting is really hard on a person. And that is an especially long wait. :(

That garden is really beautiful, and your reflection is so profound. I think it's good to be reminded that even when we are faltering and are in our most fragile states, there is still beauty.

Joanne Huffman said...

I think the reason the Catholic Church got rid of Limbo is that it's worse than Hell. August is closer than Never, but it's still very far away. The photos of the Meditation Garden are lovely and I think the blooming and fading cycle of the flowers is comforting. I think you are wise to search out and find a quiet place in the midst of all the turmoil in your life.

Annie said...

I'm very glad you had that garden to enjoy after the MRI. I've never had one and hope to never. I'm guessing that garden attracts visitors in general, not just those who are at the hospital. Thinking of you. Always.

BECKY said...

Jeannie, I'm sorry you are going through all this. I think you're being perfectly "normal" and have every "right" to be discouraged, while trying to stay positive! I'm sending you big hugs, happy thoughts, and serene well wishes.

Beth M. said...

Jeanie, you have EVERY right to be mad. Especially when life gets tough AND otherwise normal life is still going on around us. It's like we're training every single day nonstop for a big game that's 100x longer + more intense than our endless practice drills could ever be.

And I agree about those stupid MRI thingies. I'd even bet my autographed Ina Garten cookbooks that if Apple made MRI machines, we wouldn't be hissing about them like this.


Alas, I'm right there with you. In looking for gardens, also snuggling Mr. Whiskerboots, even running cold water over my hands at the kitchen sink to feel present again. I just want to experience a tiny wave of reassurance that everything is ok. But it's so difficult when escaping isn't possible and stomaching those cloudy feelings is pretty old.

So where does that leave us??--
Remembering that we feel because we are human. And that being human is a social enterprise. And that we are never left to bear life's discomforts alone. <3

Ruth said...

What a tough time, I'm sorry to hear it. Thankfully there are gardens in this life. May you find them in yourself today, or outside in the flesh. It looks like we might have clear skies for a while.

Leann said...

That is a tough pill to swallow all around! MRI - yuck I had one for my shoulder too - hardened tendon. Cortisone shots but they don't last forever of make it better.

Test results that aren't in when they are supposed to be make me really mad. Come on, how hard can it be?

Stay sane my sweet friend - I prefer it!


Jeanie said...

I don't know what to say, Jeanie. This is certainly an unexpected turn for you. It is interesting to me that you had this beautiful post about the ebb and flow of life already prepared. Am I wrong to think that maybe, in the long run, this delay through the summer will have a positive side to it? When the dust settles I hope that is the case. I know your spirit is feeling battered. I also know it will heal and bloom anew.

Arti said...


I'm glad that you could still enjoy the beautiful garden outside the MRI center, taking photos and sharing them with us. A solace to recuperate from the noisy MRI machine. LOL! Do hang in there... enjoy whatever beauty you have where you are. Just recently this verse came to mind as I had to deal with some personal issues... "Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you." (1 Peter 5:7) Stay well!

Kathleen McCoy said...

Oh, Jeanie, I'm so sorry you've had added health concerns lately and have the tension and worry of waiting for results that are too long coming. Your walk through nature is wonderfully soothing. I hope the memory of it, if not the reality on this rainy day, will help soothe your worries. Please keep us posted on how you're doing. You have so many people caring and hoping all will be well. (Not having a torn rotator cuff but rather bursitis is a promising start to the run of health-related good luck for which you're way overdue!)

Tracy said...

What a BEAUTIFUL garden! I'm sure being in this garden has eased many a jangled nerve in many a patient. :o) I hate MRIs...Do wish they'd come up with a different way than having to be put in that "coffin"! So sorry you're having to wait more for results... When you need to, let yourself go, just be. Sometimes there clarity after a "mad moment" :o) ((LOVE & HUGS))

Bella Rum said...

As you know, I've been at Dad's. I'm catching up on blogs this morning, and I come here to find such a beautiful post even when you're feeling so depleted... maybe especially when you're depleted. The photos are gorgeous and your words are inspirational as they so often are.

Before I had my first MRI, I wondered what all the fuss was about, but I had no idea how close that thing was to your face or how loud the banging would be. I did well enough, but before going in that thing, they should give everyone a little calm pill. A peaceful pill. A chill pill. I guess the garden was as calming as any pill could be.

I think of you all the time and I'm so glad you're keeping us updated even though I know we're getting the short version. I know it's worse. I wish I could help.

The Artful Diva said...

I'm glad you mentioned about Google Friends Follow going away. I'd lost track of that - what a pain!

Jenny Woolf said...

Oh, gosh, that is a fantastic garden, and your pictures are lovely - what a good idea to have a place like this. I've never had an MRI but I've heard they are dreadfully noisy.

I'm very sorry to hear that Google Friend is going to come to an end. I just don't know why they cancel these things. I don't like following any other way, partly because I haven't investigated bloglovin' or any of the other things.

I am SO sorry about the waiting, it would drive anyone nuts. Seems like from your posts that you have some great peaceful places around that might help with the calming process. I hope your coming week is good.

Friko said...

Going raving mad is not a bad idea. Go on, start shouting and ranting in a quiet spot. My doctor once recommended I should go up on the hill when no one else was there and do exactly that.

She made me laugh, so i didn’t.

I’m sorry you are being messed about. It’s all you need at a time like this.

shoreacres said...

I laughed and laughed at the comment up above about limbo being worse than hell. That seems so true to life.

I suppose part of the waiting for you is necessitated by a more-or-less unique disease, and tests which need to be done very carefully - perhaps even re-done. That doesn't make the waiting any easier, of course. Thank goodness you got good news about your shoulder. Bursitis isn't any fun, but a torn rotator cuff would be worse.

The photos are beautiful. I'm quite partial to poppies, and you have some gorgeous ones there. I was touched by the obvious analogy you were drawing between the cycles of nature and the cycles of human life, too. Just remember - you have plenty of seasons left.

I need orange said...

I like to know what the plan is, and I don't do well when the plan changes without a by-your-leave. And that's when I am feeling good and at the top of my game. I would be really annoyed and frustrated to be told I would have some info, and then not get that info.....

One of the things I am learning is that if I relax physically, as much as I can (which can take a few minutes if I'm really wound up), I feel a little better. I remind myself that even though I have reasons that am up tight, I am better able to face whatever comes if I am as calm as I can be. This does not come easy to me, but I am trying.....

Wishing you peaceful gardens and cool air to breathe!

Willow said...

Jeaneie, Thank you for sharing your thoughts and the meditation garden. I am glad you found some solice there after your MRI.
Nature seems to always have a way of soothing and putting things back in perspective, by just being in its beauty in that moment.

Popular Posts