Saturday, September 6, 2014
I attended something called the Witness Writing Workshop this morning. It wasn't quite what I expected it to be. It was thankfully a bit more than I was hoping for.
Prior to embarking on painting I happened to notice a poem amid some writings that were shared with all the participants. The following is a piece by Gail Tremblay entitled Surviving:
I dream of dancing naked under stars,
the dew on grass dampening my ankles,
the moon, sensuous ancestor, calling
to my blood. I dream the impossible
moment when tongues touch, try to forget
how much I've lost. In these dark
moments, sensation wakes like an ancient
hunger than will never be satisfied. Nothing
insulates me from memory. The fire that fills
me with electric pulse, that makes my meat
long for that strange animal heat it once
possessed, desires even now when this graceless
body moves in fits and starts. It is difficult
to forget the pleasure of running, the quick
pulse feeling my whole being so even skin
seemed too small, my breath rushing past ears
to meet wind in my hair. Now there is no speed,
only the struggle of muscle working to cross
space, the deliberate choice to survive pain,
and the will to remember love is inescapable.
I found myself relishing the imagery rendered in Tremblay's words. They cast a vivid, wonderful world in which all that we perceive with our senses positively radiates a rich aliveness. The sensuous ancestor Moon is something that especially caught my attention; I have done a lot of photography in which the moon was my primary subject.
I find myself sometimes dreaming of moments that seem a bit impossible to manifest. I too feel I try quite often to forget how much I have lost. And often I feel that my own capacity for sensory perception has awakened "like an ancient hunger that will never be satisfied". Indeed, I feel perpetually hungry. Nothing seems to successfully insulate me from memory. The memories of my earlier life, both pleasant and unpleasant, spring upon me at the most unexpected of moments.
Sometimes it seems as if I have remembered the pleasure of so many things. I find myself enjoying countless simple pleasures. I find wonder in some of the most mundane elements of daily life. When the wind blows through my own hair or when I explore the contours of something like a pine cone I find myself marveling at the beauty of the world. And then the question appears in my conscious awareness yet again: Where was I?
I have made a deliberate choice to survive pain. And here I am today. I survived immense pain but not without some psychological scarring. The bitterness and anger must eventually go though. They are on their way out now. In due time they shall be replaced by a renewed heart. This is the whisper within my heart. This is my grandest intention.
I wish to remember the love that has blessed my life. And I wish for more love in the future.
......
I wish to remember and focus upon the love in my life. And yet I still struggle. I had what seemed to be a tension headache as I made my way to the workshop this morning. The discomfort has since subsided. My headache seemed to blossom out of virtually nowhere shortly after my heart and mind were (yet again) consumed with memories of the behavior of members of my paternal family of origin that cause me pain and disgust. Such unsettling memories most commonly appear in the morning shortly after I awaken from sleep.
I've been working diligently to address the residual impact of my early life history of trauma in therapy for over a year now. And I have made immense progress. And yet anger still rises up within me too often and too easily. Only love can cast out these dark, heavy thoughts and feelings.
I happened to notice a posting by trauma recovery advocate Michelle Rosenthal on LinkedIn the other day. The focus of the posting was exploring what vision we may hold for who we will be after we have fully healed from trauma. Establishing and remaining faithful to such a vision can be a demanding project. But without a clear vision how can we set sail in the proper direction with the right resources at our disposal? Clear vision is vital to the journey of healing!
I attended something called the Witness Writing Workshop this morning. It wasn't quite what I expected it to be. It was thankfully a bit more than I was hoping for.
Prior to embarking on painting I happened to notice a poem amid some writings that were shared with all the participants. The following is a piece by Gail Tremblay entitled Surviving:
I dream of dancing naked under stars,
the dew on grass dampening my ankles,
the moon, sensuous ancestor, calling
to my blood. I dream the impossible
moment when tongues touch, try to forget
how much I've lost. In these dark
moments, sensation wakes like an ancient
hunger than will never be satisfied. Nothing
insulates me from memory. The fire that fills
me with electric pulse, that makes my meat
long for that strange animal heat it once
possessed, desires even now when this graceless
body moves in fits and starts. It is difficult
to forget the pleasure of running, the quick
pulse feeling my whole being so even skin
seemed too small, my breath rushing past ears
to meet wind in my hair. Now there is no speed,
only the struggle of muscle working to cross
space, the deliberate choice to survive pain,
and the will to remember love is inescapable.
I found myself relishing the imagery rendered in Tremblay's words. They cast a vivid, wonderful world in which all that we perceive with our senses positively radiates a rich aliveness. The sensuous ancestor Moon is something that especially caught my attention; I have done a lot of photography in which the moon was my primary subject.
I find myself sometimes dreaming of moments that seem a bit impossible to manifest. I too feel I try quite often to forget how much I have lost. And often I feel that my own capacity for sensory perception has awakened "like an ancient hunger that will never be satisfied". Indeed, I feel perpetually hungry. Nothing seems to successfully insulate me from memory. The memories of my earlier life, both pleasant and unpleasant, spring upon me at the most unexpected of moments.
Sometimes it seems as if I have remembered the pleasure of so many things. I find myself enjoying countless simple pleasures. I find wonder in some of the most mundane elements of daily life. When the wind blows through my own hair or when I explore the contours of something like a pine cone I find myself marveling at the beauty of the world. And then the question appears in my conscious awareness yet again: Where was I?
I have made a deliberate choice to survive pain. And here I am today. I survived immense pain but not without some psychological scarring. The bitterness and anger must eventually go though. They are on their way out now. In due time they shall be replaced by a renewed heart. This is the whisper within my heart. This is my grandest intention.
I wish to remember the love that has blessed my life. And I wish for more love in the future.
......
I wish to remember and focus upon the love in my life. And yet I still struggle. I had what seemed to be a tension headache as I made my way to the workshop this morning. The discomfort has since subsided. My headache seemed to blossom out of virtually nowhere shortly after my heart and mind were (yet again) consumed with memories of the behavior of members of my paternal family of origin that cause me pain and disgust. Such unsettling memories most commonly appear in the morning shortly after I awaken from sleep.
I've been working diligently to address the residual impact of my early life history of trauma in therapy for over a year now. And I have made immense progress. And yet anger still rises up within me too often and too easily. Only love can cast out these dark, heavy thoughts and feelings.
I happened to notice a posting by trauma recovery advocate Michelle Rosenthal on LinkedIn the other day. The focus of the posting was exploring what vision we may hold for who we will be after we have fully healed from trauma. Establishing and remaining faithful to such a vision can be a demanding project. But without a clear vision how can we set sail in the proper direction with the right resources at our disposal? Clear vision is vital to the journey of healing!
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