Five middle-aged people, a mix of men and women, gathered at a table in a coffee shop. Two of them are seated, the other three huddle around. All of them focus on an assortment of prescription-medicine containers containing pills. By turns, unprescribed, each of them takes a bottle, opens it, holds the container near their nose and inhales deeply, sniffing it.
And no, they're not crazy. They're trying to learn what vitamins their bodies might be lacking.
If that sounds like a strange way to find out what vitamins they need, well, if you'd asked me yesterday, I might have agreed. Only now that I've heard a presentation (and done the smell test myself), I can't really dispute it.
The presentation, by poet Diane Dawber, was part of a reading she did for our local Arts Council's literary series. She also read poems from her first book, Cankerville (Borealis) and from the forthcoming Driving, Braking and Getting Out to Walk: Landscape as the Poet's Future (Hidden Brook Press, 2009).
It's hard to believe that this vibrantly energetic woman was pretty well bedridden for close to a decade. But that vibrancy also makes it very hard not to carefully consider some of the methods she's used to recover -- not only from FM, but from a number of food allergies and chemical sensitivities. Anyway, I hope you 'got the picture'. Next time, I'll try to do better about not missing such a great shot.
Here's a snap of Diane, who's a bit of a blur. It's difficult to catch her still long enough to get a flashless pic. She's just starting her reading at the always-welcoming Pelican Rouge Coffee House.
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