January 8, 2020:
"Play the game called "Tell me the story of your scars." It's best to do it with a skilled empath who is curious about your fate's riddles and skilled at helping you find redemption in your wounds.
"How did you get that blotch on your knee?" he or she might begin, and you describe the time in childhood when you fell on the sidewalk. Then maybe he or she would say, "Why do you always look so sad when you hear that song?"
And you'd narrate the tale of how it was playing when an old lover broke your heart. The questions and answers continue until you unveil the history of your hurts, both physical and psychic. Treat yourself to this game soon."
When I read this, I immediately thought of the scene in Jaws, as they regale each other, in a one-upmanship style, with show-and-tells of their scars.
Blogs are created safe spaces to share our pain, internal and external, as well as our pleasures. All this to say that my sciatica has come back (two years after its first appearance in December 2017), and it is entirely my fault. Not enough activity, too much sitting, lots of picking up of my 25-pound, 18-month-old grandson. Retirement has its perks and drawbacks.
The last few weeks have found me in agony. Mornings are always the worst, and I've been trying to focus on stretching before I get too far out of bed. Shooting pains (electric shocks?) down the back of my legs are almost unbearable, but I know I can turn this around. Had a massage last week with Karen, who should be canonized for her healing touch. More stretching, more walking, a return to yoga, maybe even a few visits to the chiropractor (tomorrow?).
Knock on wood, I have been very lucky to have no/limited health problems, when I am surrounded by so many who have debilitating issues or illnesses. Tonight I will pop an Aleve, descend into a coma-like sleep, and awake tomorrow with a renewed desire to beat this, and come back stronger than before.
SONG: Everybody Hurts by R.E.M.
BOOK: Why We Hurt: The Natural History of Pain Hardcover by Frank T. Vertosick Jr.
POEM: Praise the Rain by Joy Harjo
Praise the rain; the seagull dive
The curl of plant, the raven talk—
Praise the hurt, the house slack
The stand of trees, the dignity—
Praise the dark, the moon cradle
The sky fall, the bear sleep—
Praise the mist, the warrior name
The earth eclipse, the fired leap—
Praise the backwards, upward sky
The baby cry, the spirit food—
Praise canoe, the fish rush
The hole for frog, the upside-down—
Praise the day, the cloud cup
The mind flat, forget it all—
Praise crazy. Praise sad.
Praise the path on which we're led.
Praise the roads on earth and water.
Praise the eater and the eaten.
Praise beginnings; praise the end.
Praise the song and praise the singer.
Praise the rain; it brings more rain.
Praise the rain; it brings more rain.
QUOTE: "Strength doesn't mean an absence of pain." ~ Aja Naomi King
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