reading back into the black…

My thoughts this evening were derailed. In the bath I was brewing a post about gentleness amidst the bubbles. Then a friend who’d read my blog wrote to tell me what she’d thought of it.

Oddly, that was a bit like getting a comment on my butt. I felt I had to crane around to see what she was seeing before I could accept the compliment! And so I read back.

I haven’t done that before, though for no particular reason. It took me by surprise how the words flowed into me, swelled up in my chest and pushed tears up to my eyes. Reading again was feeling again. I remember writing those first posts: how it felt to be there, in that now, raw and rough. It was like climbing downwards into a cave and seeing the light recede and narrow.

But, and this is a crucial but (just in case that same friend is reading and feeling guilty!), that backwards journey has made me realise how I have moved. Some days I stumble or dither, others I slide back or spring forward, but I am moving. That recognition is in itself a profound relief. When the light slides slowly you barely know whether it is rising or falling – shades of grey are hard to chart!

It may well be that there are times when I am pulled back down even lower or when new rocks block my path and stump me. This is not a journey I can chart and the road ahead is unknown to me. But it is good to know that I can come here to find a reminder, that this too shall pass.

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4 Responses to reading back into the black…

  1. Hi
    I’m glad I found your blog; I haven’t had time to read all of it yet. I was just reading your post about being fearful that you would break down in tears at an inappropriate time/place and I was reminded of Christopher Reid’s collection of poems about grief ‘A Scattering’ (in his case written after his much loved wife died). In his poem ‘Exasperated Piety’ he writes about the ‘tribal will to impose taboos and codes’ and how people consider him rude to be ‘invoking my dead wife in dinner-table conversation’. He then breaks down in tears and writes of himself in the last two lines of the poem:

    I see an old writer, gagging on the ghost-rich air
    of a fashionable salon, a terrible place to cry in.

  2. Looking back and seeing how far you have come is an incredible feeling. Most amazing part to me is that we do it one moment at a time. Peace and blessings my friend.

  3. chefjillm says:

    I haven’t re-read any of my blog posts yet, they are there for when I need them but I just don’t feel the need to re-live an of it yet. I have a lot of friends that thanked me for being so honest during the journey, it wasn’t like I was really doing it on purpose, I was just writing what I needed to get out when I needed to get it out. It is funny that you mention “this too shall pass” since that was a favorite of my Grandmothers sayings, when my husband and I wrote her eulogy that was what we named it since it is true, like everything good and bad in life it will all pass.

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