Good morning, everyone ~
How quickly the days melt from the calendar! And yet, how slowly we seem to be moving through this pandemic! The mirror of Time has two ‘faces’ … each with a muddled mind. I begin to speak/write/think in that language I once considered the
voice of “old folks”; the one that remembers how “I used to ___________ and not feel tired.” The mirror-mind of my Past is shocked by the mirror-mind of my Present.
Yes, I once worked 10 hours a day, 5 days a week, in constant motion/activity. That was me at 65. At 45, I could work alongside my husband in his field research projects, from sunrise to sunset, for 6 to 10 days at a time. At 25, I could work full time, take care of home chores and mother two young children.
My Present is alien. So too is this Present world; yet, even as I type the words, I realize that the Present is becoming “Past” more quickly than I could have imagined. The mirror of Time is blending perceptions, and I realize something that artists learn early on: Unless we are alert, aware, care-filled, that blending will result in “mud” … a dull, colorless, useless goop.
Emotional pain tends to ‘muddy’ our senses as it captures our full attention/energy, trapping perception in Time’s mirror of loss/grief/heartache or simply the grey-mud of endless waiting.
Only self can rescue self from that realm, for only self can remember … re-member: to put together again and again ad infinitum … . Re-member your own personal Path through brain-files where colors of Life thrive. We remember by way of telling our stories, and in that sharing we recreate Life’s colors of Joy, Laughter, Hope, Love.
My “color-therapy story” of re-membering for this week:
My sister Joyce babysat my older son (5 weeks short of his second birthday) during the time of giving birth to my younger son. The day newborn Orion and I arrived home, Joyce brought toddler Scott to meet his wee baby brother. Joyce had given Scott a doll-baby, using it as a method of introducing his young mind to the notion that a real baby would soon be part of his family. Scott stood by the bassinet, doll-baby in hand, gazing at his real-baby brother. At one point, he laid the doll-baby in the bassinet next to the real-baby.
“It’s time to go,” Joyce announced. Scott would stay with her for a few more days, giving me time to heal/regain energy. He turned toward her, reaching for her hand. “Get your baby,” she reminded him, meaning he doll-baby but he reached for the real-baby instead. In his mind, the doll-baby had served its purpose … a stand-in until the real thing arrived. What shared Joy we sisters felt as we witnessed Love blossoming into colorful bloom, as older brother accepted younger into his Life!
This week holds the date of Scott’s birthday. March 4th will mark the date of his death. Of all the pain I have endured in my lifetime, the loss of him remains my personal 10 on the “scale from 1 to 10” we often recite to our health-care personnel. It is emotional pain as well as physical/mental/spiritual. Only “color therapy” works to stop the gray-mud of loss from engulfing me.
And so, I highly recommend that you too try your own “color therapy” as you deal with whatever muddies your mind when you look into Time’s mirror. You have the resources (brain-files), and you have the means by which to share them (our Tribe!). Let’s start a “color therapy” campaign to stop this pandemic of emotional pain! We all could use a bit more color in our world, eh?
Gentle hugs/much love,
Marian