Orpheus

I've used the metaphor a lot in my blog over the years since Gi's death, but now it may be more useful than ever. 
I've been stirring up sludge.  What I understand of the Lyme process I'm going through is I stir up bio film where the bad guys hang out and then flush them.  It involves times where I feel like crap; I'm in one of those now.   I was feeling pretty good for a couple of months, and have slipped into a crash and burn body moment.   
Ah  but here's were the metaphor may be most useful,  it's the soul demons that are stirred up too which make this an epic struggle.   Doubt, fear, desire, neediness, fear, grief,       fear.   I've done a pretty good job dealing with the the surface of all of these over the years, thought I'd really done a good job of grieving.   But now the deep stuff has been stirred up   and  boy is it dark in here!

Orpheus descended into Hell to find his beloved Eurydice, his Soul mate  and bring her back into the land of the living.  He had his music, which could make the animals stop still to listen, and advise on how to proceed, "don't look back, have faith and keep your eyes on the Life you're returning to".

So  I'm conversing with fear,  and  desire,   and loss, loss, loss.    And not trying to appease and dismiss them, move on to more pleasant subjects.  I'm hanging out in the darkness and getting wet.  Not sure if I'll be able to bring my Life Force, my creative energy back to the surface of my life.  But I've felt half buried since Gil died.  Perhaps this is the time to stir the sludge. 
It reminds me of a Sappho poem I encountered as a teen "If you are squeamish, don't prod the beach rubble"   I've always been a prodder and not too squeamish.
Perhaps it's time to crank my music!!!

70

I turned 70, a solid round number.  It sounds substantial, has gravitas, invites admiration.  There have been other openings in the last week or two.  I had an intense bout of grieving Gil's absence, realized how touch starved I am, became aware of a hunger to be held.   How odd and disorienting after 7 yrs. 4 months.  Somehow I haven't moved as far along into my life without him as I thought I had. 

My body is getting better for the most part.  The baseline walking, weight bearing disfunction seems to have significantly improved though I still cycle through bouts of pain and exhaustion.   It leaves me hopeful and much more tuned to the NOW of what I feel.   There has been a shift.  I've prayed for my Life Force to sweep me up and help me reengage with what remains of my life.  Perhaps this moment of awareness of hunger, pain, relief and curiosity is the tension filled balancing act of being alive.

A poem which spoke to me:

Want 

by Carrie Fountain (excerpt, slightly edited)

Perhaps this

is the heart’s constant project: 

this simple learning; 

learning how to hold hopelessness

and hope together;

to see on the unharmed surface of one

the great scar of the other; 

to recognize both and 

to make something of both;

to desire everything

and nothing at once

and to desire it all the time;

and to contain that desire fleshly, in a body;

to wash it and rest it and feed it; 

to learn its name and from whence it came; 

and to speak to it-oh, most of all

to speak to it-

every day, every day,

saying to one part,

“Well, maybe this is all you get,” 

while saying to the other,

 “Go on,   break it open,    Go for it!”