8 January 2011

taking pain, sadness and grief for a walk in the rain

(partial post - to be continued later)

So I admit. Not everything has to be connected to the conflict (although if I dig deep enough, I’m sure to find the connection). I’m making an effort here to avoid making this post a cliché, but I guess it’s unavoidable in this case.

Walking in the rain without an umbrella.

There comes a time in life when all there is left to do is let the rain soak up the body to the bone, hoping that from this place we can only grow.

Pain becomes a physical entity, first lodging itself in the throat, refusing to come back up with a cough, yet determined not to slide down either. But slowly, the body makes an opening, letting the pain glide down. (this process can take up to two weeks).

Upon reaching the stomach cavity, the pain is joined by sadness first, and then by grief. Together, they make a comfortable home for themselves in the stomach – dragging in heavy furniture and thick blankets, for they are planning to stay the winter.

And so I walk around with them inside me. They feel very heavy in there – what furniture they brought in! And when I almost gave in to them, it started raining. Being a woman of the winter, I grabbed my heavy fleece coat, put the hood over my head, and took my pain, sadness and grief for a walk in the rain. Without an umbrella.

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