THE NATURE OF EXISTANCE -V- THE EXISTANCE OF NATURE

April 20 2013How little we know…and how much we try to control. I have, of course, spent the last two weeks wanting to know why my shoulder is hurting, determined to do something about it. I’ve taken countless hot baths with remedial oils, visited the local osteopath, spoken with the shaman at the Lourmarin market, following his directions for exercise along with the application of one of his magic potions to be followed by massage of the area by Joel. I have pinched and prodded, free-floated my arms to jazz and popped a few anti-inflammatory pills. Nothing.What does anyone know? Our incredibly efficient, magnificently French, village doctor may know a leetle something, peut-être?  Last week I visited him for a renewal of my thyroid medication. In his usual Inspector Clouseau manner, he asked how much I take, since when, and why. I had been told 10 years ago that my thyroid had failed and basically if I wanted to continue living I need to take medication everyday. Clouseau was not convinced and advised me to have a blood test in order to measure how much hormone, if any, my brain is producing on its own. In order to discover this he insisted on what no American doctor ever has: that the blood taken early in the morning before taking the medication.So off we went Wednesday morning to a neighboring village where blood was drawn so gently I didn’t feel a thing. The result would be emailed to the doctor but we were welcome to pick up a copy later that day.We said, at the beginning of this trip, that it would be important not to idealize it; to accept that no matter where you live, shit, as the saying goes, happens and that an unknown quantity of it will surely find us no matter where we are. After the test, we went to a nearby brasserie and sat in the sun enjoying pain du chocolat et café au lait . We discussed how it is the crap as much as the joy that roots one to a place. Joel suffered 8 weeks of bronchial infection and inflammation here this winter and we joked with the doctor that we had seen him more times in one season than we see our New York doctor in a year.On Thursday, with our dear friends Sharon and Paul, we packed a picnic and drove some 40 minutes to Chateau La Coste, an enormous estate know for its wine, art and architecture. I cannot speak to the wine but the art and architecture by such luminaries as Ando, Goldsworthy, Serra, Bourgois and Calder – among others – ranged from the egotistical to the spiritual, while the land itself remained above it all.Our favorite was by Andy Goldsworthy; the only installation that wasn’t erected on the landscape but literally in it, or more correctly, under it. In a wooded section of the property, Goldsworthy had built a stone wall along the side of a berm. In the center of the wall, an opening beckoned and we passed through it into an earthen chamber, the cool air of which immediately refreshed the spirit, while the darkness calmed the breath. Looking up we saw that he had supported the earth above with a circular ceiling woven from trunks and branches, so that to look up was to experience the mystery of weight. You could feel how, instead of trying to master or control the landscape, he had communed with nature, making a womb beneath the forest floor.We picnicked nearby, having chosen a spot that, from a distance looked to be soft and grassy, yet when actually there, proved somewhat barren and prickly. Fooled by nature once again. But it was shady and peaceful and we had thick linens upon which to spread our victuals and bodies. Over baguettes and cheese, olives and salad, local strawberries and homemade cookies, we talked about the nature of art and wealth. We all agreed that this estate was a great gift to the region and felt the generosity of the owner toward both artists and visitors. Yet this owner is purportedly implicated in having made dubious wealth from the Celtic Tiger, that mythical beast that roared into being sometime in the last 15 years causing the Irish to buy into the bubble which burst horrifically a few years ago, leaving the country broke, the people jobless and all those new houses empty.So, we questioned, does one act of generosity absolve a person from the robbery? Who knows? We didn’t. So we cleared the picnic and lay down for a nap.Yesterday, Friday, we returned to our doctor to go over the results of my blood test. Turns out that my thyroid is not dead and the amount of hormone it is producing tells us that I have been overprescribed. In fact, the doctor isn’t even sure if I need the medication. So he has worked out a schedule of decreasing the dosage, to be followed by another blood test in 6 weeks. Eventually we will know how much medication, if any, I really need. Or will we?  Then he said how dangerous it can be to have too much of this medication, that it can cause heart problems. Oh, I said, I’ve had heart palpations on and off all the years I’ve been on it. Mon Dieu, he exclaimed, and immediately put me on the table and examined the old ticker. Superb, he said.I leaped off the table feeling reborn, functioning thyroid, superb heart, good to go. Then suddenly a fly got trapped behind my glasses. I took them off but still saw the fly in my right eye. I told Joel and the doc what was happening and asked them if I had something stuck on my eyelashes perhaps? No. The doctor immediately began questioning me and had me follow his finger with my eyes and the fly went everywhere with me. If it’s still happening tomorrow, he said, call him immediately because it may be the sign of a torn or detached retina.It’s still there this morning and, yesterday evening, was accompanied by flashes of light toward the outer edge of the eyeball. What do I know?To be continued…..