Twilight and I am nestled up the corner in my generous chair completely holding my rounded form like a mother holds her baby so tenderly. “I am not ready for winter” I mewled in my little mind as the street light simmered its nauseous amber and the fire waited to be warmed up by matches, paper and crackling kindling.
My thoughts are flitting and monkey like as my body, a little anxious, wants to dart back and forth tidying, cleaning, packing for my trip…. my trip…… my journey to foreign parts where one goes to support an only child through major surgery. Brain surgery.
This is not easy and yet, tears just will not break through the torrid barrier of respectablity, capability, politeness, societal expectations…..
I actually want to scream – yes I want to scream a viscious and vile scream. It is not about being a victim or the noxious stuff which negativity is made of. It is about the incredulity of yet another wretched entanglement of Life and Living’s experiences….. I can accept AND I can rage…
Do not come to my door attempting to stop my voice or hers…. or the voluble need of anyone who is in pain. Join with us and scream that it may turn to laughter as the truthfulness of all things falls into place.
My day yesterday was spent fighting sleep. In the car, on the phone, in meditation ~ it really was the most painful time….. do I have narcolepsy I wonder? I came to bed just after ten and yet….. here i am 2am tapping away… I could not sleep. Too much anxiety in my body, struggle in every cell…. but do i know the root cause? Nope…. it is elusive…. or is it? Would I feel better if i knew my daughter and family were ok? Yes I would…. yet I have no control over these things…. I cannot control what’s happening, to them. To step back and say “I can do nothing” feels shameful…. a mother would do anything….. a mother would take it all away – if she could.
I see governments failing,
fiscal plans falling and crashing
and we, the little people, become strong.
I see we are diving in and pulling together.
As one, in our groups in this aching world,
we begin to shine and give with open hearts.
Where one can’t, another can.
Where one attacks, another heals.
Where one hates, another loves…..
Twist your fingers through the ribbons
when they are thrown.
As you go under, another will go over
the weaving of the human safety net
is in our own hands….
The “four hand carry” the “cat’s cradle”
we know how to hold another….
and now, the mighty challenge calls out –
do you/I/we, know how to be held?
This offering today is linked to FMS (Fibromyalgia Syndrome) which I have….. It’s a chronic condition with many symptoms including widespread, constant pain and deep exhaustion.
Another phase has hit me…. this rapacious, inescapable sleepiness. My eyes are heavy, cannot focus, unable to keep them open, again. It’s been about three days or so where life is filtered through veiled eyes and echoey ears….. My writing comes in word-bursts as mind slides in and out of landscapes of colour, emotions and rantings of my inner critic. There is a pain involved here in this silent world of insatiable sleep, this dragging up out of the space where cocooning the self is the only option…… Like dogs (I imagine) licking my face, creating dumb shock in me and unable to get them off….
Such a ghastly thought….. hello… so glad you dropped by.. Sleeping now.
Night in full flight sits upon my chest, pinning me down forcing me to make sense of it and use it wisely. But I rise up like a cackling spectre and ride this ‘night’ on its satin back, peering through the windows of a turbulent world and spreading a morning mist as the light of day hums it’s way in. I shall have little sleep this night for I follow the Pipistrelle and Serotine way up in the sky allowing myself the ecstatic joy of dancing with the Lights of the firmament and the winds of the earth. We are all things of the mysterious and the mundane and yet we cannot grasp the magnitude of of the brilliance of all things…. for we keep ourselves asleep when in fact, it is time for us to fly.
I said to him last night,
“take my car to work….come back in the morning and rest with me?”.
He looked at me…..
“OK” he said, with a seduction at the corners of his wide, wet mouth …..
There he was in the cold morning rain, at my door at 9am.
We climbed into bed – into clean sheets….
for 10am and radio 4…… The Archers Omnibus….
I fell asleep in his arms, missing most of life in Ambridge…..
yet this little haven of snuggledom
had me purring deliciously with delightfully safe sleep.
Outside this nest, Autumn winds
bumbled against the old, rough wooden door
and rains of dark lit skies
defiantly washed the small paned windows,
as it struggled to come in.
“No chance!” I mumbled…. “n o c h a n c e.”
My body wept the tears of my little life, inside.
My heart split open from wetness
of smouldering sadness
as out flew compassionate,
strong arms of an Angel
carrying wings for every single soul
who suffers in this life.
The Angel spoke wordlessly into my eyes –
“When one suffers, all suffers ~ you are not living this alone.”
The change from summer to autumn came rattling at my windows, sounding in the trees like the ocean’s breaking waves and I lay there listening, with an anxiety not felt for many months and moons, to nature’s symphony. You lay next to me, flesh white and cool with goose bumps asking to be covered. Sounds of your breathing, percussively punctuating the restless night, brought comforting images of saw and bow and I giggled, silently. How I do love you, you with the gift for ostinato.