A Little Flame to Feed

 My mallards in the park this afternoon.

This morning, as I lie on her couch, leaking sadness, my lovely kinesologist therapist reminds me that in the Chinese way of medicine, grief in the lungs is different from grief in the liver.

In the lungs, represented by metal, grief is hard and holding on.

In the liver, represented by wood, grief is softer and flowing outwards.

I have no infection in my lungs but I have always felt like there is a metal band constricting my chest.....sometimes it hurts to breathe...even to take small shallow breaths.

Today my grief is flowing from my eyes....a huge build up of pressure behind my eyes.  She says eyes represent dreams for the future....hopes and dreams...the bigger picture.

So no wonder my eyes hurt.

I can't dream about my future

 yet.

 Or hope for it.

Or even imagine it.

First I have to say 

out loud

so I can hear it too - 

The dreams I had,

that Robin and I had,

for our future.... 

even vague 

unspecified 

dreams....

but the ones 

we always lived into

naturally together,

will 

not

happen 

now.

That future will never happen now.

So instead of trying to live into a future that is too unfamiliar ....too overwhelming and uncertain and uncontrollable ....instead of dreaming up a life of my own......on my own.......I can notice how my grief is shifting from metal to wood....and take some baby steps outwards. From the place where I am now. Mourning my loss.

Up to now it seems I have been doing everything just to get through the days ...and the nights...hopeless.

I make myself eat and sleep and walk and talk and write by habit... by an instinct to survive...joyless.

But today I was given a tiny green shoot of hope. That I could eat for nourishment,  be rested from sleep,  be energised by walking, be inspired by writing, be loved by talking, sharing, listening ....little gifts I could give myself. To thrive in the moment. Nothing big and bold and scary. 

Just a little flame to feed. 

And let the bigger picture, the future, take care of itself while I take care of me.