Zero Gravity

I am sitting in a small room in Canada, noticing.   It is, oddly, my only job these days.  I'm here to try to reboot my life, change my patterns of eating, moving, breathing, sleeping.  Hopefully the Lyme or other tick diseases I have will succumb to the barrage of different Naturopathic treatments I'm here for, but if not, I should still know a lot more about my body than I do now.    

I'm halfway through my time here, with no noticeable improvement, in fact, with a slight continuation of my downward trend in ability to walk without the support of my walker.   I feel occasional burps of despair but mostly live still snuggled in my cocoon of denial.    The overriding background sensation of this time is being in zero gravity.   I have none of what usually grounds me, home maintenance, responsibilities, relationships, little creative projects.   Without those duties to my former self, I'm able to consider what my life would be like if I can no longer walk or carry things unassisted.  I'll be having a brain MRI when I return to look at other serious disability contenders.

It's sort of like inviting a new member to my team of multiple personalities, one in stark contrast to the independent pioneer  who has always been my front man.  

I've been having dream conversations with a group of women about color and life style and how to avoid attracting bear with our female hormones.  (though we hear a story of a woman giving birth in the wild without being attacked.) 

During my travels out here, a man offered me help and then added that the women he'd met from WI (and Montana) were amazingly strong, and able to kick butt.   Not sure why, but that seemed to be a blessing for this trip.
   
There's a photo of a bear on the wall in the little Arbnb room I spend so much time in. A totem for this new territory I'm in?