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Monday, November 27, 2006

Plumbing The Depths

A river runs through it.

This is the mental image that keeps coming to me when I think of the deep emotional base that runs through the physical. Not always evident, often latent, but constantly present. When the depths are plumbed, a sort of geyser can erupt, with a surprising amount of energy and volume. When Ken was dying, there were occasions when that velocity would arrise. That sounds like a severe understatement, but its true. In the busy transactions of day to day living, one rarely has time to sit alone and cry, or scream, or navigate the deep pools of fear, and loss, and sadness. And so it rises to the surface in less expected ways.

The river carries all manner of emotional componants simultaneously, so it seems when one variety is released, it surfaces with remnants of other, equally powerful and forceful "spirits".

My theory was reinforced over the weekend. Stomach weakening laughter on friday plumbed the depths of that latent river and dragged up with it a sense of melancholy that followed me to my workplace on Saturday. Frustrating events at work, coupled with this debilitating sense of sadness brought up another current-- that of red hot fury. The sort that makes you walk away and close a door behind you because you've glimpsed an ugliness in your soul that shocks you. You are brought undeniably face to face with your own depravity. Your own potential to be not nice.

These past few days of white water rafting haven't all been fun and games. But they've allowed (or rather, forced) me to take some time for re-evaluation. Ken's death, and the loss of all the componants of family that it ensued, has caused the universe, and me in it, to shift eternally. That was then and this is now. We will never be entirely the same again. And although that's true every day, whether we go through a life changing event or not, sometimes these rather large events give us pause to stop, clean house, throw out, or re-group as necessary.

And so the emotional rapids have come up to the surface for a time. They've washed away some driftwood. They've washed clear some of the corridors of my mind and aided me in remembering whats most important in this journey. Time.

I will make more changes. I will become more fully present for my chldren. For my husband. For my mom and dad.
It won't be easy.

But its one lifeboat that I'll gratefully climb into.


*disclaimer* No small animals, children, clients, goldfish, or houseguests were harmed in the events unvieled in this writing. Really. And it goes without saying, that because I plan to make some changes that will buy me more time in this life, there will be plenty of time for more parties with more people who I gratefully consider my friends. Strangers in my opinion, are merely friends whom I've yet to meet and share cheese with. And don't let the bit about rage frighten you. It frightens me, and that should be enough for the both of us.


Anonymous said...

Aww, Joyce, you don't scare me!

Reading your post today I was reminded by something Anne Lamott wrote. She was talking about forgiveness, but that is neither here nor there, it can be about any struggle in our lives.
This is a paraphrase:

"I know he (Jesus) loves honesty and transparency. I don't think he was rolling his eyes impatiently at me. I don't think much surprises him: this is how we make important changes-
barely, poorly, slowly.
And still he raises his fist in triumph.

Thinking of you,

Anonymous said...

WEll said Heather.

Joyce thanks for letting me ride the river beside you. Sometime we should tether our boats and do fondue eh?

thordora said...

Sometimes I think the most important lesson death brings to us is that we should always take a little more time to just be, to just listen, just breathe.

Sometimes the river is more important than we want it to be.

esther said...

"not always evident, often latent, but constantly present."

...not forgotten.

it's a gong show... said...

This verse came to mind when I read your blog today Joyce...not sure wxactly why but I'll share it anyway...

Matthew 11: 28-30

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light."

Joyce said...

for I am gentle and humble in heart.
So much of what I desire to be.
Not a raging, truly ugly, heavily yoked individual.

And now, again, there's no time for tears. I have a dad who is due to pick up his child in two minutes.
I will badly frighten him.

Anonymous said...

Beautiful post, Joyce.

Judy - Anybody Home

lettuce said...

bless you Joyce. This has really puts its finger on something for me - I've been thinking about surfaces, and surfing, and fear of whats in the depths. You're right, its all interconnected - because its all part of one's life and being.

I hope you get some peaceful brooks and calm waters soon as a change from the rapids.

Anonymous said...

i like the title of your post
a river


Marshkies said...

oh joycie... your words ring so true --