Marveling at the reflective surface snow provides in the grey green muck that is winter in Illinois. The way it lends chromatic balance to a world that has gone dark with winter.
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.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
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2 comments:
My friend, you turn even a fall into a kind of miracle. But I am wishing you safety, soundness, and sure ground beneath you.
Amen to Kari's comment.
Something that might help: a trip to a warm pool, where there aren't many people, so it's fairly quiet. Do some floating on your back and listen to your breath.
Your soul might like that.
Hugs to you friend (but not too tight, so as not to re-bruise you!)
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