The premise of this entry is twofold and quite simple. But first a hallucination.

I lay my head down, close my eyes, and while I’m no A+ student of The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test, I swear I’m swirling right into psychedelia. The little scientist who perches on that knot in one shoulder tells me I’m not exactly a control subject here. A lowered tolerance these days may have turned my ten ounces of Haystack Wheat into a bender. That sweet hometown Left Hand beer is spiced tonight with antibiotics, one last day of prednisone, and an albuterol inhaler— all of which are coursing through my system at this very moment. And a coughing fit moments ago over the sink made me see stars. But I’m convinced my little trip is of a different source.

As soon as my eyelids shut, a tiny visual wonderland plays before my sight. This is not the lava lamp lightshow I can sometimes achieve when I squint my closed eyes and follow the blood flow. All around me are fascinating colors, textures, and three-dimensional spaces through which I can choose to drift. I can even alter the scenery with the merest effort of curiosity and interest, a sort of conscious dreaming. The panorama pulses to a rhythmic thumping and the landscapes gently rise and fall below me. The sensation is both real and surreal: it is Beth’s heartbeat and breathing beneath my head.

A brief mental journey back out of this trip and into the past: do you remember hearing the story of the two girls in Durango— I think of them as the cookie phantoms— who left an anonymous plate of homemade cookies at a neighbor’s door, then knocked and hid? The anxious woman panicked, imagining some menace, and went to the hospital the next day fearing a heart attack. She successfully sued the girls in small claims court (check out the blog linked here, by the way: it reveals some interesting details not often shared on the case).

The third point of the Boy Scout Law says “a scout is helpful.” [Background: I’m pondering each of the 12 points, one a month, throughout this year’s centennial of American scouting.] This topic seemed at first too obvious— the classic picture of a boy helping an old lady across the street— and thus unappealing to me. But it’s hardly my style to take the obvious tack. I choose tonight, instead, a New Ambivalence.

Helpfulness can certainly backfire, especially when it is about helping oneself. If the cookie phantoms had primarily been indulging their own desire to do a good thing— regardless of whether it was appreciated— then they were missing the point of helping others. I will come to their aid yet, but must return right now to the trippy la-la land encircling my head.

Her heart-thump is just below my ear. I move my cheek down off her ribcage, thinking “the human head weighs eight pounds.” (Thank you Ray: you complete me. Along with Rod Tidwell’s rants, you were one of the two bright spots in Jerry Maguire. I’m not anti-chickflick, but I am a boy after all.) From my lower position over Beth’s belly, her pulse is still audible. And then I hear dinner gurgling its way down. That sound and sensation, right there against my own skin, returns me smiling to my happy hallucination.

It’s been a tough five weeks of constant illness, long (but satisfying) working hours, and tension on the home front. In stress and ailment I tend to take care of “number one,” but in the past few days I recognize how hard Beth, too, has made special efforts for my health. Today I took the time— and it was not painful or difficult— to return the favor. And here, head-on-belly, in the giddy throes of a real-life hallucination called love, we are helping ourselves to the simple rewards of genuine helpfulness.

Maguire: Did you know that Troy Aikman, in only six years, has passed for 16,303 yards?

Ray: D’you know that bees and dogs can smell fear?

Maguire: Did you know that the career record for hits is 4,256 by Pete Rose who is NOT in the Hall of Fame?

Ray: D’you know that my next door neighbor has three rabbits?

Maguire: I… I can’t compete with that!— Jerry Maguire 1996

The two-fold premise of this entry I promised at the beginning? Listen to other people’s hearts. And bring them cookies.

Thanks for reading. Cheers,

Photo by the Beer Phantom