stealing metaphors from my own writing (small edit)
Many times in my past I've gotten annoyed with people for their use of the word 'light' as synonymous to 'good' and equating 'dark' with 'bad'. I think a large part of this is my hypersensitivity to words and their implications, but there also is an underlying reality which words reflect. A few nights ago I was silently thanking the darkness for its role in recharging melatonin, for its healing qualities in general, as I dropped off to sleep. That's when the thought came to me that healers, in general, often operate in 'darkness,' beginning by creating a safe, restful state in which others can integrate and become whole, or process and shed the waste (permacultural energy work: What feeds off of that waste? What is the ecology of trauma?).
I was writing to someone this morning about what it is to be depressed, and it came out in a metaphor: There are shadows living in my emotional valleys. They aren't dark, but vague, untouchable. It's a clammy, foggy swamp to slog through, filled with the detritus from old stories, which call out to me in hypnotic voices. Tolkien was right, after all, about the Dead Marshes, and wraiths are our own pasts come back to drain us of our vital energy. To continue the permaculture metaphor, what is the function of a swamp? How does my internal ecology process all the silt and shed nutrients--the upstream pollution--of my life? While it's not a place for humans to permanently inhabit, what inspiration and medicine can I find in the times and places I get bogged down?
"How shall my heart be unsealed unless it be broken?" -Khalil Gibran
...
I get by, I push through, I grit my teeth, and I seek out the healing darkness, and healing songs. I got this email back this morning:
Dan Berggren
to me
Hi Marvin,
Thanks for your kind words - I enjoyed the evening at Bound for Glory. I'm attaching a pdf of the song with good wishes to you as you sing it to yourself and to others.
Dan
Sittin' in your kitchen, coffee on the table
Talking 'bout the morning, and singing a song
There's so much we have to do now,
So we'd better get a move on; move on.
Sittin' in your kitchen, hands across the table
Looking for some answers in each others eyes
There's so much we have to find out
So we'd better get a move on; move on.
Sittin' in your kitchen, cards are on the table
We're gambling for some high stakes, but nothing to lose
There's so much that we could win now
So we'd better get a move on; move on.
I'm sittin' in my kitchen, your letter's on the table
Telling what you're up to and how you are
Well I've got a song to sing you
So I'd better get a move on; move on.
I was writing to someone this morning about what it is to be depressed, and it came out in a metaphor: There are shadows living in my emotional valleys. They aren't dark, but vague, untouchable. It's a clammy, foggy swamp to slog through, filled with the detritus from old stories, which call out to me in hypnotic voices. Tolkien was right, after all, about the Dead Marshes, and wraiths are our own pasts come back to drain us of our vital energy. To continue the permaculture metaphor, what is the function of a swamp? How does my internal ecology process all the silt and shed nutrients--the upstream pollution--of my life? While it's not a place for humans to permanently inhabit, what inspiration and medicine can I find in the times and places I get bogged down?
"How shall my heart be unsealed unless it be broken?" -Khalil Gibran
...
I get by, I push through, I grit my teeth, and I seek out the healing darkness, and healing songs. I got this email back this morning:
Dan Berggren
to me
Hi Marvin,
Thanks for your kind words - I enjoyed the evening at Bound for Glory. I'm attaching a pdf of the song with good wishes to you as you sing it to yourself and to others.
Dan
Sittin' in your kitchen, coffee on the table
Talking 'bout the morning, and singing a song
There's so much we have to do now,
So we'd better get a move on; move on.
Sittin' in your kitchen, hands across the table
Looking for some answers in each others eyes
There's so much we have to find out
So we'd better get a move on; move on.
Sittin' in your kitchen, cards are on the table
We're gambling for some high stakes, but nothing to lose
There's so much that we could win now
So we'd better get a move on; move on.
I'm sittin' in my kitchen, your letter's on the table
Telling what you're up to and how you are
Well I've got a song to sing you
So I'd better get a move on; move on.