Tuesday, October 12, 2010

A Light that Lingers...

I've not talked about my health here lately. Some might say that it's a form of denial or that I'm still in shock. Others might say that I'm just trying to manage – to cope – or that I'm buckled down in survival mode. If you asked someone else, they might say that I'm trying to downplay the severity to prevent others from worrying and to keep the stress at bay.

And all of them would be right... at least partially.

I wrote of beginning a journey. I wrote of accepting reality and stepping forward. And I have. I have begun this voyage. My jeep is still being repaired, so obviously the journey has been a mental, emotional and spiritual one and not a physical one. Even though I haven't traveled thousands of miles, I've gone far. I've delved deeply, examining myself in an internal mirror. When you've splayed yourself wide open, sometimes it's easiest to write about the everyday motions and not about your recent explorations. Sometimes it's easier to keep busy and appear calm and placid on the surface, while the gears below are grinding onwards at a frightening pace.

I walked in the woods, rolling these revelations around in my head. I thought of what legacy I might leave behind. What do I want to remain when I'm gone? I was walking into the woods, into a place I had never ventured before. It was further than I've ever been before. That's when I saw a glint of light at the base of an old tree and found the unintentional legacy of another. I discovered an old dumping ground. At the base of the tree were dozens of bottles, some broken or cracked and others intact. I collected a few, bringing them back from the wilderness.

I set them on top of the table of the deck. The light seemed to collect and pool within the old glass vessels. Some of the glass was so old that it started to turn a shade of faded violet. The easiest of them to trace back, I discovered, dated to the early 1950's. They had been laying at the base of that tree, glittering in the diffused light for over fifty years, if not longer. Season after season the remnants remained, enduring winters and weather.

Someone discarded these things, leaving them behind for me to find.

10 comments:

Emerald Window said...

There is a lesson in there somewhere.
Cenya

Erica said...

You know, Andrew. I never said thank you for the beuatiful beads you sent me from your contest in August.
From the moment I opened the package, I felt an indescribable feeling. It was like all this postive energy just came flying out of the envelope.
You included in my goody bag two very important symbols - the butterflies. Currently, I am going through a lot, and just really learning about me and what makes me happy.
Your choice of "Metamorphosis" and "dream" meant so much to me. It felt like you knew what I needed.
I know from that bottom of my heart that you are special, and so talented.
All will be well with with your health. I believe! You have too much to share with the world, Andrew.
Just think of this as a speed bump that you have to cross to get where you are going.
You are safe, you are blessed, and too caring (you have an open heart...it shows in your eyes)to go anywhere anytime soon.
Please try to keep your head up.

Much love,
Erica

SummersStudio said...

I truly believe that we leave behind a goodness of light when we are gone. But then, sweet Andrew, you are a ways off of that. But still being confronted with your own imortality is a sobering thing. And I do not make light of that at all. Be well and take advantage of these moments you have before you and use them to deepen your commitments to life and focus your energies. I know I sound a little like a mum. I am one. I can not help it.

Clear Crick Cottage said...

Hold fast to your goodness and grace, and the patience and gratitude you derive from it will see you through at a less frightening pace.

The human body naturally wants to heal itself, and you have that on your side, Andrew. Remember that on your grey days. :)

Love,
Sherilyn

Kristen said...

the journey you are on is a good one. You need to feel all that is around you and examine what matters to you. You will come out the other side with many gifts but its good that you are not rushing because now you are seeing. With you all the way!

kvk said...

Each comment well said and heartfelt.
I can only add that I continue to hold you in my thoughts, sending blessings and support in whatever way you may need.

Jenny said...

I would expect this will continue to sap your energy for awhile, as well as make you deeply reflective, and yes, a bit depressed. It is a blow, but when you are ready, you can turn it into a positive force in your life, and even a gift. But first there must be grieving and adjustment, and it's important to take time and be gentle with yourself. I am several years older than you, and I have come to understand that nothing in life is all bad or all good; everything you are handed, is whatever you make of it. Growth never feels good; that's how you can be sure that's what this is. You are being sent down a path that is different from the one you would have chosen for yourself. Many have walked where you are going, and they are ready to lift you up with love and support.

Cynthia of Cynful Creations said...

What a beautiful gift you found at the base of that tree, Andrew, so unexpected and unusual but so delightful. Life is often like that, isn't it? You just never know what you are going to find around the next corner...

Sabine said...

Thank you for your messages! You don't have to make every blog about your health. You don't even have to think about it sometimes. Keep your creative thoughts flowing. Maybe you could send some of the old bottles to Glass Garden beads and have them made into glass rings.

Sending you some good energy.
Ann
http://mycriticaleye.com

lorrwill said...

Bottles. Vessels.
Still whole 50 years on.
Still capturing and reflecting the light.
Much like the body.