Left hand buzzing, fingers numb as if coated with wax,
goofy dexterity and lack of coordination and strength:
I’m used to feeling all these symptoms:
the fallout of brain cancer in the right parietal lobe.
But on occasion, especially if I’m tired and haven’t taken two naps a day
my left hand goes blank, off-line, incommunicado.
I can see it, touch it, even move it, but it is empty and floppy, like a fish out of water.
In another piece of writing, I called it uninhabited, as if it were an undiscovered island
Perhaps my left hand is preoccupied, answering to another, or refusing to take any calls.
Perhaps it is gone on strike, protesting any number of petty tyrannies.
Once or twice, the empty feeling in my left hand extended to the left side of my face
so that my mouth couldn’t properly form words. They sounded muffled and muddled.
Apparently, my speech was going on strike as well.
Okay strikers, you got my attention; I accept your demand for an emergency nap
and an extra antiseizure pill. I will stop whatever it is I am so fixated on doing.
I will stop doing and simply be… empty-handed
because in that stopping, I have a chance to stop the world, as Don Juan teaches his pupil —
stop my own mindless blathering, complaining and criticizing,
measuring, comparing, judging and keeping score.
A powerful lesson: baffling, beautiful, and bountiful.