21 April 2009

quiet stillness

Rainy and gray, today seems almost colorless, not quite like winter's whites and grays, more a mosaic of faint browns... but then looking closer, and it is simply awash in subtle color--in the fog I can see red maple blossoms and the dusty yellow gray of birch catkins, a daffodil here or there, the bottom branches of forsythia blooming where the snow had held the longest, the yellowing of willows-- If you go by fast, and don't look closely, it is fog and brown and empty and bleak, but slow down and there is just so much life happening.

Last night in therapy I asked about the blue, the fragility I feel, and talked about how odd it feels to feel so separate from something that I worked so hard for and wanted and want so much. But she said something that rang true-- that these are all signals from my body that my self needs to be quiet right now.
And I feel she is right, this is an inward turning time, and a time for quiet reflection and creativity.

I know I need to be gentle with myself, allow myself to be slow and quiet. This simply rings true. There is such a push to achieve, to rush, to be and do and feel and become. It is hard to remember that a lot can happen without striving. And much can be experienced better in quiet.

A long long while ago I used to fly fish, not to catch trout (although the occasional nibble was a satisfying affirmation of a well presented fly)- but to stand still in the midst of a stream, to just be there, feeling the water press hard against my legs, and the stones shift under my feet, and to watch foam and twigs swirl in eddies, and sunlight dapple through the leaves a million colors of green.

So for me this is about remembering to slow down, to remember how to be in stillness and quiet.

Today as in many recent days, my heart goes out to Sprogblogger and Musicmakermomma - they both have their ultrasounds tomorrow, which will bring closure or news of miracles.
And Meinsideout just had a totally shitty night that feels pretty final for this cycle. I want to gather them all up in bigger arms than mine and rock for a while, saying somehow this will all be ok, somehow this will all be ok. But I know how many times I have felt that it wouldn't be. That it would Never be ok. And never work out. And who the hell am I to placate with words of hope so tight on the heels of losses. So many losses. Gosh darn how I wish it were different.


Nic said...

You do seem quite calm in this post which is good. I love this time of the year and how it represents new life. Where I am the sun is shining, the daffodils are finnishing their bloom but the bluebells are out and is just beautiful! Take care of yourself

Jenn said...

Such a introspective post!

It is so hard to stay in the here and now - the quiet.

I love your description of your fly fishing - it sounds like you special serene place.

Hopefully you will be able to find a similar place inside yourself.

Sending you soft, quiet hugs!

IVF 40+ said...

lovely worded post. How serene. And true.

What IF? said...

Beautiful writing, Kate. It makes me long for those elusive moments of inner peace when one can turn one's face towards the sun, bask in the warmth of the sunlight, and somehow just know that everything will be okay.

Feeling disconnected from what's happening within you is completely normal, especially after the long road you've traveled.

I'm struggling too, and thought one of your previous posts where you wrote about "re-remembering" that you're pregnant was completely spot on.

Anonymous said...

thank you ((HUGS))

onwardandsideways said...

Funny, I am also feeling a need to be sort of quiet. Can't explain it, it's my body telling me this. So I think I will listen. Glad you are doing well.

Elizabeth said...

Peace and easy, quiet stillness to you.

Sarah said...

early pregnancy is just weird, and as much as i want every piece of the experience to feel special to me, it is also nice to know i'm just a tiny speck in the whole huge community of women throughout time who've gone through this, every one of them marveling at the bizarre disconnect between how unpregnant this stage feels and the incredible things that are going on in there. fertile types go through it too, but surely it is stranger for us having had our entire lives revolve around this for so long, from the heart wrenching desires, the rise and fall of hope, to the intense daily schedules of dosing and monitoring.... and then you're supposed to just suddenly stop and wait and take it all in? that's a lot to ask on top of ever-increasing hormones. good luck with it!