Monday, May 25, 2009

Time, keeps flowing to the river, and the sea to the sea...

A Woman Once Said:

There is something about pain that can seemingly purify thoughts. Seemingly. For if you reach a level of pain, it sharpens the senses. One can't know if the sharpened senses are real, or surreal, or only knows that the world takes on a reddened hue. I am speaking of physical pain, for when you have emotional pain, the senses seem to become sluggish and the haze is yellow or brownish blackish brackish. With physical pain, I have lifted from my body and hovered above and watched my weakness with disdain.

I have dreamed without sleeping, and wached the Shadow Man stare at me as I lay floating in a sea of nerve endings glowing red. I have tossed about words and truths and lies and wondered if and when I could write about them-shouldn't I just get up from the bed or couch and relate all my genius? For, I pretend I am a genius sometimes--a brilliant mind trapped in a silly human body. But when morning comes, and the pain abated with sleep, I revert to plain me--seeker of the soulbeing of you. Yes, I said seeker of the soulbeing of You. Because, though I seem reclusive, though I stay inside my cave more than I venture out, I am hovering around you, reading the aura that surrounds You. My eyes flick over you or your words or your images, and I seem to dismiss, but I do not. For what I "See" is filed away, deep inside of me, in this spot I use just for You. And when even I am most unaware, You come back, and out from my fingertips You fly, and there You are, a character acting out life's terrible beauty in a story or paragraph or phrase or sentence or word. A beautiful idea of you all encased in language.

Pain can make one feel as if they are unique. As if everyone else is nubile as a deer leaping across the field towards something she sees in the distance-a bit of corn, or maybe a dew-filled flower, or to her special hiding place. In the night hours, when all is dark, and as last night when the rain fell hard -droplets pounding the roof in a fury, I did not pity the part of me that demanded attention to the fiery parts racing down my spine and legs and feet. No, for isn't there a You-the one who knows the true meaning of Pain? Yes, I think of You, and my pain grows small, even in its frustratingly bad parts, even as I toss and turn and wish it would just stop. Does pain alter me? Does it make me unaware of larger things or hyperaware of everything?

One night, I woke and Pain said, "Hello, sorry to offend you, truly I don't wish to be here anymore than you wish me to. I would rather be called something else at times, just as you do. Do you think it's easy being hated and feared? I do my job and that is what I do, so, pardon me while I zip through you for a while, doing my job, being what I need to be." I answered, "Do your worst! I am strong." Pain sighed through me and I felt sorry for it.

I thought about how one day I would be a very old woman. And how I'd walk crooked to the coffee pot, pour a cup, holding the cup with trembly hands, and then, from there, I'd shuffle to the porch, carefully sit in my rocker, pull a throw over my knees, and rock rock rock rock and think about the days when I was young and leaping to the dew filled flower. I would rock rock and remember all my yesterdays. And I would drink every bit of my strong black coffee and think, "Today I will write, and then I will rock some more, and then I will read, and then I will rock some more and then nap, then eat, then rock then sleep." I hope that happens--I hope I have that gift of growing to be a very old rocking chair woman.

And in the dark, I smiled, and I lay there, and I felt Pain, but I didn't care. Who guarantees this life is supposed to be pain-free? I can imagine I was once this being of light in the heavens, and as I looked down, I said, "I want to visit the earth as a human." And, some greater being of greater light said, "So it shall be, but, how do you want to live?" And I, being fearless said, "I don't care, I just want to live on the earth for a time as a solid body with nerve endings in and out." And there I went, shot down to earth, come out squalling and red-faced into the world--first entrance was pain and light and noise and freedom. And everything that happens I have felt it and every pain physical and emotional and even when I railed against it, the being who was the light where I will return will think, "I felt it all! I was human. I knew things." And it won't seem but a minute that I was here, just a minute. Just a minute. A minute. Minute


Michelle H. said...

This was powerful. I'm speechless.

Debbie said...

Oh Kat. That was just beautiful. I hope I get to be that old rocking woman too. And the pain will just help me know I am alive.

Carol @ TheWritersPorch said...

Morn'n that was creative!

Jessica said...

What a lovely piece.

Deb Shucka said...

Amazing. Powerful. Seering. Love the picture and your writing (always).

Nannette Croce said...

good thoughts. I still get angry at my pain, but that is probably because it isn't always with me.

Sharla said...


Patty said...

That was incredible. Beautifully written and thought provoking.

I hear you are interested in joining our "My Town Shoot Out." If you plan on joining us, please let us know so we can add you as a shooter. You can send me an email. Do you have Friday's assignment?

crisfieldblogger(at)gmail (dot)com

Angie Ledbetter said...

Do you think if friends rock together, they can create balm to help one another's pains lessen? I do.


Kikit said...

My university professor told our class that there's something called "galaxy of emotions" that people should explore. We always want to feel happy, excited and contented and we tend to despise the negative ones. What we sometimes fail to recognize is that pain, depression, frustration, hatred, loneliness, etc. help us become stronger and wiser as a person. So when we feel pain, we should embrace and feel it. Embracing it doesn't mean dwelling on it though.

Very nice post. I want to get a rocking chair too. :)

Glynis said...

When I was a nurse, I saw some incredible people break through the pain.

I could never write something as powerful as this to describe it!