deep in untamed lands

image by loren cutler

I am, at times, undone by grief. If I cry before I sleep I might also wake up and cry, and today, the rain, the piano music, the shower—everything feels so watery, tender, and raw.

Sitting on the bathroom floor after my shower by the space heater, I took Murphy, my dear orange tabby, in my arms as I sobbed, but he didn’t much like that and after I reluctantly released him, he took a perch on the toilet seat.

But then a new friend texted me, words of kindness and encouragement, and even a lovely piece of writing she found online about mustard greens and the way they come to life during the chaotic movement of weather we experience as we lurch toward spring. I wonder, can I also draw up some of winter’s bitterness and bring something new into being? Something beautiful and life-giving?

I could manage the waves of grief I had about my illness more easily when my friend Jim was alive. Not that he was an expert at sitting with grief. He wasn’t. But here’s the thing—he kept trying—he really wanted to learn how to be present to grief, mine and his, and this desire, to keep getting better at it, it touched me as deeply as anything has ever touched me in a friendship.

And he made it very clear—he wanted to be there. And damn, I knew it. I felt it.

I fear my health has worsened over the past year. I mean, it has worsened. It doesn’t mean it’s a permanent state. But it frightens me. I’ve hardly left the house all winter.

Anyway, this is what I sound like on a difficult morning. I share it because I know we all have mornings like this, times when we go down to the bathroom floor.

And then, miraculously, we get up. This aspect of human beings really knocks me out. The getting up part, the keeping going part. I have it. And I bet you have it, too. And, let’s face it, we need one another to do the getting up part.

I looked in the mirror and could see it’s going to be a good hair day. I really do love my wavy hair. Murphy got a hairball remedy treat though he remained a bit wary of me. Now he is lying on top of the heater vent in my bedroom.

Even if it’s not a better day today physically, even if all I can do is lie on the couch and watch the rain, I am going to do one kind thing inside my mind. I am going to picture myself somewhere beautiful, deep in untamed lands.