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. . . open all of the windows, buying a beautiful pot of bright yellow daffodils and fat free ice cream sandwiches . . . .

Dear Kim:

It is Wednesday, March 1.

How did that happen?

How is it suddenly March?

How? How? How?

How now brown cow.

I celebrated today by throwing open all of the windows, buying a beautiful pot of bright yellow daffodils and fat free ice cream sandwiches for everyone in the office.

And, I am still sick.

(Kim: There was a Dr. (Weil?) who came to St. Louis to teach a workshop that I took. One thing of interest was a study he talked about that delved into why some kids get sick and others don't. The biggest determinant was that the kid's parents had an expectation of sickness. Do you have an expectation of being sick? How can you change that expectation?

When I worked with Mary Seager I thought of her as someone who was dying, while she thought of herself as someone who was living. Luckily she won out.)

Argh.

Whatever I have is like a bad houseguest. Whose conversation was poor but tolerated because it was time limited and has now far overstayed his or her welcome.

I decided to try to figure out if there is anything useful or interesting in this particular form of sick. This cold, throat, coughy, tired ish thing.

What I decided was that time takes on very interesting qualities.And how appropriate to contemplate on a spring like day whose arrival I cannot fathom.

When I am this particular sick, I feel dreamy and have no concept of time. That feels unproductive in the usual sense of what to means to be productive and highly productive in terms of experiencing a different and welcomed reality.

Later,

Joan

Wednesday, March 1, 2006

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