Saturday, January 10, 2009
Trying too to swallow the fear that shakes me now when I step out into it. I fell, hard, last Sunday, on a patch of black ice hiding beneath a shallow puddle that I trusted too much. My feet failed me and the asphalt was unsympathetic: It left me nearly unable to walk for a while, and I've been suffering the effects all week. A stiff shoulder. A twinge in my wrist. A bum that doesn't want to know me.
Was fortunate to find an osteopath who ironed me out some yesterday, with a firm brisk manhandling that left me whimpering like a grateful bottom to his top.
But something in my core is shaken and unsettled and I'm reminded of an Asian culture -- Hmong maybe? -- that believes when one falls like that the soul is jarred loose and floats untethered until it's anchored again by the intervention of the shaman. While the soul is in this fearful state illness, disease, and death are certain threats.
It may be nothing more than a state of ambient fear, but it has conjuring power.
It may be nothing more than this.
Posting by cameraphone.
Inbound to Chicago's Loop.
Posted by suttonhoo at 9:39 AM