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Progress and Commuting

June 8, 2015 //
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The apartment didn’t cool off much yesterday. During the night I slept on top of the bed covers until some moment in the wee hours when I realized in my sleep that I felt cold and contentedly pulled the covers over myself. The alarm went off immediately. I flopped over onto my back with a grin in the darkness; it was just more humorous than anything else. Humorous because it was very much a matter of perspective in the first place; the apartment was still quite warm and a bit stuffy. No music this morning, instead I took time before coffee to open the windows, and to carefully replace the spider discouraging fabric in the window channels, blocking the gap in the screens and letting the early morning breeze blow through to cool things down before I leave for work.

A cool shower refreshed me nicely, and the water for my coffee was ready by the time I was dried off and dressed. Yoga and meditation to birdsong and the sound of traffic at the nearby busy street was satisfying and I am not in pain today. One lovely advantage to the hot dry days of summer is that my arthritis is so much less aggravating. I get weeks of very little pain, and reduced need for pain management. I look around my living room contentedly; it reflects who I am. I sip my coffee. I feel relaxed and comfortable.

A commute covers the same ground day after day - a journey takes us somewhere new.

A commute covers the same ground day after day – a journey takes me somewhere new.

I take some moments to consider the number of times I have started down the path of finding real emotional wellness…and the number of times those attempts have been stalled by one circumstance or another, and how my own issues have held me back, and how I have allowed or fostered those failures; sometimes out of fear, sometimes out of loyalty, sometimes because the process of failing, itself, had been mistaken for progress. There has, each time, been this sort of ‘this far and no farther’ moment – and each attempt would begin again, from a starting a point, moving forward to that moment when I would be stalled, or turned back, and the whole thing would repeat some other year, or in the next relationship, or after some terrible moment of despair. It’s been a bit more like ‘commuting’ than a journey many times. This morning, waking in this safe comfortable space, waking and feeling my consciousness begin with contentment from the moment I wake, I see that this has become truly a journey at some point, and I pause to recognize and appreciate how far I have come. There is farther to go. Maybe I really needed to retread some of the progress I have made over the years, and maybe every attempt to find my way through the chaos and damage was utterly necessary for some greater understanding. Maybe I wasn’t ‘ready’. Maybe, as it so often seemed, some person or another in my life at the time was themselves unready for [my] growth and change, or perhaps my wellness was not to their advantage. (People who encourage continued growth with the commitment of my traveling partner are very rare.) I know that none of those things matter having moved beyond those moments, and relationships. The mistake of thinking those things are relevant has often held me back needlessly.

This morning I relax and take care of me without stress or doubt. My coffee is tasty and I am content to let myself wake up in the time it takes to do so gently. My routine this morning lacks rigid order; I take the tasks as they come, and in the order that seems practical in this moment. It’s enough. Hell, it’s more than enough. It’s a lovely morning.

Part of taking care of me happens in the kitchen with wholesome fresh foods, and appropriate portions. In the summer heat, I enjoy a homemade granita, made with much less sugar than commercial frozen treats.

Part of taking care of me happens in the kitchen with wholesome fresh foods, and appropriate portions. In the summer heat, I enjoy a homemade granita, made with much less sugar than commercial frozen treats.

There is time, this morning, for a healthy breakfast (oatmeal with fresh fruit and some nuts sounds good this morning), and study; I’ve returned to my reading list, myself, because the context of my experience has changed significantly, and there is benefit in deeper study of science and practices that are specifically relevant to my experience. I most particularly want to spend time studying ‘listening deeply’ and the communication and mindfulness practices associated with that idea, and what sorts of things I can do to change how my injury disrupts the natural flow of dialogue (I interrupt a lot, and my speech suffers from similar ‘run on sentences’ as I inflict on you here). There’s work to be done! 🙂

My birthday is coming. 52. It’s not a major milestone as birthday goes, but from a personal perspective on progress, I am proud of myself for how far I have come since that bleak December [2012] when I finally stopped ‘commuting’, and began this journey toward real wellness.

Today is a good day for practicing good practices. Today is a good day for critical thought – without being critical or unkind. Today is a good day to enjoy a journey that has taken me this far, and promises to take me much further. Today is a good day to appreciate the many perspectives on my experience.

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Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Love, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5

MIx ‘n Match

June 7, 2015 //
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I woke to a lovely summer morning, and enjoyed the sunrise filtered through the blinds of the front window, and the sounds of birdsong. I woke early, but not so early as to feel like a lack of sleep. I slept well and comfortably and woke with no new insect bites. It makes sense that the insect situation has improved somewhat; I am taking strong measures to ensure I am able to provide myself the best possible self-care: vacuuming every day, removing things from cabinets and replacing them differently (also improving how things are stored, and getting rid of stuff I don’t need in the process). I have stuffed gaps in screens, and around doors and windows with pyrethrum soaked fabric to prevent uninvited visitors (and tomorrow I will ask the management to replace all the screens with new ones that actually fit the windows sufficiently to function as screens). While spiders are busily reproducing in our region, I am also wiping down exposed skin with Deet – even when I know I will be indoors, and yes, even before I go to bed. I am also laundering my linens and changing them on the bed every day. It sounds ludicrous, I’m sure, but spiders don’t prefer spaces that are disturbed frequently, and the tiniest baby ones easily enter the house through gaps in poorly fitted screens – vacuuming every day does a better job of getting rid of those little ones than I could ever do by looking for them. I minimize my risk of additional bites even further, keeping my feet and legs well covered – socks and a tight base layer of wicking fabric, which has been working very well, although when the day gets warm I find myself grumbling. (I’d rather be wearing a sundress and going barefooted.)

I feel basically  moved in, but there is more to do and I use the spider abatement measures to also continue to get more moved in than I already am. I’m hanging paintings, sorting through historical paperwork, reconsidering items in my wardrobe that I just don’t wear, or that no longer fit, and refining storage solutions. It’s wonderful; I am creating order from chaos. 🙂 I am living my life.

I spent yesterday in the company of friends. Over the course of the day I enjoyed hanging out with a friend of many years (almost two decades) that I haven’t been seeing much of for a while. I also spent time with a friend whose association with me is less than a year, and with whom I connect very well. He enjoys some peculiarities of mine that are often seen as limitations or challenges in other relationships, an interesting and delightful experience.

Today I’d been looking forward to seeing my traveling partner, after he indicated he’d really love to see me, and hang out over coffee, and I was feeling less cross with the itching of the spider bites – but plans are not ‘actuals’ until they happen, and he woke up feeling ill. We postponed without hurt feelings or distress, and the day unfolds with chores, laundry, correspondence, and perhaps later if the day is not to hot, I may venture forth into the retail wilderness for a new bathing suit; the community pool opened yesterday, and I’ve lost enough weight that my old bathing suit hung off my body in a most ineffective and unsuitable way. 🙂  It will definitely be hot enough for a dip in the pool to feel quite nice, later today.

A lovely day to walk my own path.

A lovely day to walk my own path.

It’s a lovely summer day. There are choices to be made, most of them quite pleasantly practical. I can choose from chores that need doing, and from the fun things that I enjoy, and numerous nurturing self-care practices, and from the things that fit more on the list of opportunities to explore something new… It’s a pleasant Sunday with no firm agenda, and a good day to mix ‘n match from all the possibilities and enjoy the day gently. That will be enough. 🙂

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Categories art and the artist, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Love, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words

Long Distance Connection

June 6, 2015 //
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Another morning, another day. The cool air of morning blows through the apartment cooling things off. I feel less hesitant to open the windows having treated the window screens with pyrethrum, and all the door jams, window frames, carpets, nooks, crannies and anything else that seemed treatable, and potentially spider housing. I did much of it last evening, then went for a walk while the vapor hazard dissipated somewhat. Yes, multiple spider bites itch so much that I chose to suspend my preference to avoid household poisons. Now it is a matter of time, and the bites I already have will stop itching and heal.

This itching isn’t inconsequential; it makes me ferociously cross, and almost mad with distraction. I repeatedly consider cancelling my weekend plans, knowing how hard it will be to focus on anything else but this itching…but I am feeling moody, horny, lonely, and the itching itself would benefit from something that could distract me from it. Connecting with human beings outside the office would do me good – I enjoy solitude, but once it cross over to the dark side (loneliness), it becomes a very different experience.

Actual rejection, or mistreatment, may move me to put distance between myself and another human being – but it doesn’t change the very real human need for social contact that I have. The desire to avoid hurting someone who matters greatly to me may also move me to put some distance between me, and that dear one, if I don’t know another course of action, or lack skill at managing whatever the issue is (in this case, for example, this infernal itching). That’s very different from walking away from poor treatment, though, and now that my traveling partner and I live quite separately, maintaining a ‘long distance connection’ skillfully becomes urgently important to me. I know what my needs are…but I would be a fool to assume I know his, aside from what he has explicitly shared. At this particular time in our lives, our differences seem to be more profound that our common ground. This would seem to require careful expectation setting, clear communication, openness, good-natured acceptance, honesty, frankness, humor…and generous helpings of love and encouragement. We’ve both changed over the years, each picked up some baggage of our own – some shared, some very individual. Words on a page don’t do justice to the complex beauty of love. We seem, for now, to need things we are not able to provide for each other. Love needs what it needs to thrive – and so do I, and so does my traveling partner. We’re both very human.

Sometimes this can feel a very lonely journey; we are not alone. <3 Detail of "Communion" 24" x 36" acrylic on canvas w/ceramic, 2011

Sometimes this can feel a very lonely journey; we are not alone. ❤
Detail of “Communion” 24″ x 36″ acrylic on canvas w/ceramic, 2011

My traveling partner matters too much to me to treat him poorly by design, or even predictably; I actively avoid behavior and choices that have that outcome. This weekend that seems to suggest postponing plans to hang out would be wise…and still needing human contact, connection, and companionship I chose to keep plans to have brunch with an old friend, and go to the Farmer’s Market later with a friend who is newer in my experience, both far less likely to be hurt by any irritability or distraction on my part. I managed, somehow, to screw up managing my social life such that my traveling partner may have felt hurt or rejected, instead of valued and respected. I find myself, as a result, teetering on the edge of cancelling all my plans – because hurting someone so dear to me is so uncomfortable I would rather inflict that pain on myself, and simply endure the loneliness.  What are the best practices to practice here?  I know one thing – I am staring directly into the heart of one reason I moved into my own place; I have become so attached to my traveling partner that I have difficulty taking care of me, and this continues to stall my progress in therapy (and life) as I fight myself for control of my experience while I simultaneously try to hand it over to someone who loves me so dearly that he doesn’t want that kind of power. These are issues that are in no way about him, as a person, or about love as an experience – they are at the heart of my chaos and damage, constructs that have existed for so long within my messed up programming that I am often unaware of them as they play out again and again to my detriment. At long last, I am standing on the edge of real wellness, but to get there I am going to have to fight some heavy weight demons, without a sidekick, without a hero riding in to save me, without magical weapons, and probably in incredibly shitty conditions. (Oh, hey, cue the spiders!!)

So…I keep turning the puzzle over in my head…how do I best take care of me today? How do I best take care of love? How do I nurture a long distance connection with consideration and gracious acceptance of circumstances, and still treating myself well? What is enough communication? What is too little? We travel the same distance to see each other, when we do; for me that’s 90 minutes on public transportation, for him that’s 30 minutes in the car. When I consider going to see him, the time and distance have little importance to me. He cautions me in a practical way that he isn’t always going to want to spend half an hour driving to see me, when we discuss making plans for regular time together. I need the planning. He needs the flexibility. We are different people. Hell, he pointed out, himself, that I would benefit from spending more time with other friends, getting out into the world more, doing the things I love more – and all that is true. The truth of it has nothing to do with his emotional experience of not being part of it. He is also having his own experience.

Some of the most important questions I ask myself are questions that he asked me first… Mortality being what it is, I experience doubt – and my demons do their happy dance, and my brain turns the immense power it has to create on me directly.  I worry that these precious minutes are lost, and I grieve with my whole heart for what I don’t have right now…but damn…perspective has its moment to shine, too, and I recognize the incredible wonder and joy I have experienced thus far. It’s a journey. Keeping in mind I am making the map as I go, it’s no great surprise that I have doubts, fears, worries, concerns, heartache…and all in equal and reciprocal measure to the capacity I also have for joy, delight, love, wonder, passion, creativity, and all of it leading me on a student’s path through life’s curriculum. It’s a journey. There is distance to travel, and distance to experience. There is a hearty helping of verbs – and I have to choose those wisely and act upon them with my will. My results are absolutely going to vary – and I’m not in it alone, although I am having my own experience.

...with what matters most. "You Always Have My Heart" 8" x 10" acrylic on canvas with glow.

…with what matters most.
“You Always Have My Heart” 8″ x 10″ acrylic on canvas with glow.

Today I am taking care of me, and hoping that love can be nurtured across distance and that I can learn to do it skillfully. Taking care of me also means allowing my dear ones their own experience, their own emotions, their own choices – without resistance. Taking care of me requires that I experience my own emotions with self-compassion, respect, and consideration, and make my own choices in the best way I can, myself, that meet my needs over time.  A shared journey is not indentured servitude, bondage, or a sentence – it is a choice, made with love. So…now I need to learn not to punish myself for experiences that are not mine. That’s going to take some practice. Learning to listen deeply is critical, and figuring out how to master some control over my injury is tied for first place.

Why, yes, I think I will, thanks. :-)

Why, yes, I think I will, thanks. 🙂

Today is a good day to practice. Today is a good day to smile in the sunshine and have brunch with a friend. Today is a good day to love from afar and trust that love is, and that loving myself matters, too.

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Categories art and the artist, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words

With a Side of Fail Sauce

June 3, 2015 //
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I am having a difficult moment. I write those words simply, and hoping that perhaps seeing them on the page in such a practical no bullshit way might give me some kind of leverage, a way to pull myself from the edge of this pit. It feels harder than that. Given a chance I know that it probably isn’t any more difficult that giving myself some tenderness, some compassion, and maintaining the will to look the truth straight in the face, fully accepting disappointments, hurts, and all the small things that don’t feel good. Awesome is possible…but the effort to lift a finger to let go of the hurting long enough to change it is hard to muster right now. It won’t stay this way ‘forever’, however much I hurt right now.

I am not skilled at managing my emotions. I’m still such a beginner. I feel my feelings so strongly – as if they are the only real reality, the only true truth. Intellect tells me it isn’t so. Study suggests perspective matters. Practices, over time, have resulted in so many fewer such moments like this one. Here I am now, though. This one’s harder than most, lately things have been very good. It’s not helping matters that I have no name for this feeling…some mix of disappointment, sadness, frustration, loneliness, and grief…and over something probably pretty small in the bigger picture.

I wrote more. I deleted it. I wrote more after that. Deleted it, too. Writing. Reading. Deleting. Contemplating words in rows. Feeling feelings. Tears slide down my face, ignored. I write. More words. I delete them; they say nothing. I am uncertain what I feel beyond this gray heavy hurting and loneliness. People are not who I expect them to be, or who I want them to be, or even who they once were. People are only who they are, in this moment now, and not even reliably so; I persist in expecting things, assuming things, wanting things. Mere mortals, one and all, each with our own baggage, our own failures, our own hurts – each of us the ‘good guy’ in our own narrative, and making it up as we go along. Something about this must be worth it – most of us keep at it. Again and again.

...Maybe a picture of some flowers will help?

…Maybe a picture of some flowers will help?

I am covered in mosquito bites. The itching drives me mad. I am in tears, head stuffy, eyes swollen. I am resentful of my weakness and my failure – how the fuck did I manage to fuck up a nice bit of hang out time with my traveling partner so easily? I mean, aside from being utterly human? My head aches with doubt and insecurity. Right now, nothing feels good, or holds any promise. This seems an unfair extreme, and rationally I know to doubt the intensity of it. Right now, I feel sad…and a lot of other stuff, none of it any good.  My demons head for the playground. I feel stalled and helpless – and angry with myself that any one other human being anywhere has this kind of influence on my state of mind, however loved, however well-intended, however valued.

Words on a page. Maybe I should delete more of them? What is there to be gained in words about tears? It is wishful thinking to hope the demons might be distracted by a handful of words. They are not inclined to listen deeply, to be considerate, affectionate, supportive, or friendly – they don’t have my best interests in mind at all.  They do not love.  I do, though… it’s just hard right now. First I’ve got to swallow this bitter pill, with a side of fail sauce – then, later, when there are no more tears, sometime after a shower, after time spent meditating, after some sleep…maybe then it won’t be so hard to be alone. I may be doing quite a lot of it in the future – there’s really no way to know what the future holds for  me.

Some moments are harder than others. They’re all just moments, brief and ephemeral – good or bad, they are over so quickly. Hurting sucks, but it will also end. Eventually tears dry. Eventually wounds heal. Eventually, wherever I happen to be will be okay with me. I focus on something small; I am okay right now…it’s a place to start.

Begin somewhere, and keep taking steps.

Begin somewhere, and keep taking steps.

…later…

Change is. Really. That’s even okay – sometimes it takes getting used to. Sometimes there are regrets – and apologies. Sometimes there is distance. Words can be misunderstood. The summer showers of my emotions pass quickly. I’m okay. Tears do dry. 🙂

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Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, grief, Logic & Reason, Love, Mindfulness, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words

Merry Meet and Merry Part

May 15, 2015 //
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Another lovely morning – I’ve had quite a string of them, and I’m enjoying it without expectations of future such lovely mornings. No dread, I just find it a poor choice to attempt to force the universe and circumstances to comply with my whims by assuming it will be so. It hasn’t worked out well in the past to take that approach. 🙂 I found myself beginning this blog post with such enthusiasm – yesterday – that I got to 5k words and didn’t finish. This morning is another lovely one, my Traveling Partner dozing near by, my coffee hot and tasty. I pare down the words a bit and wonder if I should publish this one at all… it seems to strike a fairly serious tone, which wasn’t my intent when I began it…still, there are some things worth saying about the recent string of ‘easy’ pleasant mornings… there are verbs involved. 🙂

Flowers are a lovely metaphor for growth over time.

Flowers are a lovely metaphor for growth over time.

I have been finding it easier of late to ‘merry meet’ when I interact with someone, and similarly easily ‘merry part’ when the time comes to walk away – even if that departure is heralded by some moment of stress or OPD in my vicinity. (If you are just joining us here, ‘OPD’ is ‘Other People’s Drama’.) My gentle mornings and evenings seem to cuddle busy productive work days that are, while not entirely stress free, quite enjoyable moment to moment. I am learning not to immerse myself in the difficulties of others. It’s a good time for me, and I am generally content.

Does any of this make it sound ‘easy’? I sure hope not. I mean well, and I benefit from my writing – which is why I do it, honestly – and some of you reading have shared that you find value in my words, or pictures. I sure don’t want to set expectations that these changes in experience and quality of life have been effortless to reach, however well received, however simple sounding; there are verbs involved. I am putting in a lot of time and practice to discover the difference between ‘wish’ and ‘will’. They are very different. 🙂

Imperfectly perfect is as perfect as perfect gets.

Imperfectly perfect is as perfect as perfect gets.

The changes in my experience, in my emotional resilience and self-sufficiency over time, and my enjoyment of life generally have not only not been ‘easy’ to reach – they are not promised even now. I know I am likely to have the occasional bad day. I’ll have difficult times and frustrating moments. I’m likely to struggle to be understood now and then, or to have an interaction with a loved one that leaves me feeling mistreated. Practice, in my experience so far, does not make ‘perfect’ – it just doesn’t, and I highly suggest letting that old trope fall by the wayside. Practice is practice; choosing good practices, and practicing them because the practices themselves add a positive quality to my experience has ‘moved the needle’ on my quality of life. I am experiencing an improvement over time – with continued practice. Your results may vary and there are verbs involved – and choices. The practices I choose for me are most effective when they are the most effective practices I can choose for myself – the ones that resonate with me, and meet my needs over time, providing me with the greatest value. I think that’s where I’ve ‘gone wrong’ in treatment before…trying to force practices to work for me that either didn’t address my needs well, or just weren’t the practices with the outcome I sought. The effort was wasted, not because it lacked value, but because it lacked the value I expected it to have. If I had been, then, more easily able to accept the value that any one practice or change in behavior or thinking actually offered, as it was, I might have gone farther, faster, sooner… I lacked the wisdom and experience to understand that good practices are not ‘One Size Fits All’. So. I try new ones, and share what I can of the experience. There’s a lot to learn in life’s curriculum.  And I sure hope this does not sound like a lecture. 🙂

Prescription strength mindfulness has been the best Rx for me...and it can be taken as part of any treatment plan!

Prescription strength mindfulness has been the best Rx for me…and it can be taken as part of any treatment plan! 

There’s a common and peculiar notion that a magic pill might save the day, spare the effort, provide a short-cut…and I think I got lost on that detour, too. For a long while I took powerful mind-altering prescription drugs on the recommendation of my clinician at the time, in a rather desperate willingness to ‘try anything’ that would ease my suffering, and balance my volatility… only… what I felt stated in a more honest way was a desperate willingness to try anything that did not require actual effort,  or an investment in will, practice, changing behaviors and thinking, investing in my time, or making a real commitment to the lengthy process that growth can be. That all sounds like real work…I wanted a magic pill, and no arguments. I wanted to be personally validated as being ‘the good guy’ and assured that because I had been victimized the world had an obligation to put things right somehow. I told countless therapists who asked me what I hoped to get out of treatment that what I wanted was ‘happily ever after’. I’ll tell you it’s worth saying so to a therapist at least once in one’s life – just to see the look on their face. It is not a reasonable goal. No magic pill. No short cuts. No happily ever after. I dutifully took my pills though…and then other pills to address symptoms those pills caused…and more therapy because the pills weren’t really fixing things, just muting them a bit…and then other different pills because the pills caused side effects…and more pills because those pills didn’t do quite what other pills did that I thought perhaps needed to be done… The pills were wrecking my health, and not doing my cognition or emotional balance any real good, either. Seeking a magic potion did not replace the effort required to learn to live and love skillfully, in the face of chaos and damage. (And the no short cuts rule seems pretty universal.)

I am not a doctor, and this is not medical advice. (Please don’t just wander off and stop taking your medication! Doing so over a blog post seems a poor approach to good self-care.)

I share what works for me because it was so hard for me to find, in the first place.

I share what works for me because it was so hard for me to find, in the first place.

Why am I on and on about how this is not easy, and that the journey requires taking steps, and that will requires action, and that there are verbs involved if I am enjoying my experience lately, with seemingly such ease day-to-day? Because I, myself, could be mislead by the ease in my experience lately, and find my way to problematic thinking and assumptions that could wreck my heart nearly instantly if something goes sideways unexpectedly.  I find it incredibly painful and discouraging to embrace expectations of ease and effortlessness, and have my contentment yoinked out from under me suddenly, not through any great tragedy, but simply because I lost sight of how much practice goes into living well, and how much time I invest in good self-care and taking care of me. “Easy” doesn’t describe it… and when it feels ‘easy’ I generally find that the sensation of ease is related more to developing skill over time, rather than to any lack of effort. I’m still practicing. There are still verbs involved. I am learning to undermine the demons of discouragement and futility lurking in the darkness by being accepting and aware of the commitment I make to practicing, and the necessity to continue. Doing so results in fewer of those terrible moments when it feels like it wasn’t worth trying at all; they are an illusion, and have no greater value than any other fleeting thought or emotion, and choosing differently is possible. You know I’m going to say it again… There are verbs involved. I also know there will be days when I struggle to understand why I have to practice so much or ‘work so hard’ at what seems so effortless on other days. Perspective will matter. Maybe on that day, these words will matter, too.

Each having our own experience, and all in this together; like flowers, we are also blooming in our own time.

Each having our own experience, and all in this together; like flowers, we are also blooming in our own time.

Today is apparently a good day for a lot of words. Today is a good day to practice good practices that are effective for me, personally. Today is a good day to try new practices with an open mind, and a will to explore what they may offer. Today is a good day to brush off discouragement with a smile and say “you’re not my supervisor!” Today is a good day to observe the suffering of others and choose differently myself, without being any less compassionate about their experience.

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Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, gardening, Healthy Living, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, The Art of Being, Uncategorized
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