Growing Pains
Every now and then my ease with words collapses. They cease to rise, pure hydrogen balloons of concept and conjecture, to bounce impatiently against my fingertips or lips, seeking exit to the larger world to see how they stand up when touched by air, by light, by alien persective that has not sprung within the corners of my mind.Today my head is dumb. All cluttered with the leaking brakes that set a christmas tree of lights to blinking on my dashboard; peripheral neuropathy sings and has its increasing way with opposites, both numbness and exquisite pain residing in the confines of my skin.
I keep looking down to see the bracelets that I do not wear and yet can feel encircling my wrist, my ankle. My fingers stutter more each day across the keys and fear flowers as I wonder if the lack of feeling on the left side of my lips heralds a drastic slackness that will take articulation from my voice.
The laws of attraction operate, so I believe, so when I ponder why I have brought failing brakes into my life I need to look at what avenues they open to me. Time spent at the mechanic. Certain knowledge that I will not fix this with some minutes spent with Google and some pliers. A pathway to a new car, to time spent at home.
The shutting down of sensation combined with exacerbated sensitivity to touch is more difficult. I cannot see the subtleties beyond the instinctive fear of failing organs, fear of losing my autonomy, my drive, my forward motion while I have so many plans in various stages of design, conception, near completion.
And now my words feel laboured, granite blocks I'm heaving to the surface from some outdated subterranean mine that drips and gleams with phosphorescent life forms not meant for human eyes. I'm like a redirected synapse, firing out of sequence, sputtering across the lawn of my day half lit, but still not burning with the true and steady flame I know as mine.
The stranger knocking at my door is me without a map to this part of my journey and in my head I hear the unknown voice of Joko Beck say learn your ABC's. Time to repot, time to push the edges out and find and be A Bigger Container. Why does it always hurt to grow?
Comments (1)
Your words provide a strength to some who read them and can bring tears that somehow totter between sadness and joy.
Your so smart, and so healthy to model oneself after.