Hello friends,
As I left my chiropractor’s office the other day, I noticed a slug on the sidewalk. It had rained all day, and the little guy was enjoying his time in the swampy atmosphere. I stopped to admire his infinitesimal movement, the searching sway of his antennae. Even on the wet sidewalk, he left a shimmering trail. As I left him, I tried to appreciate the humidity the way a slug would. I thought of it as life-giving rather than stifling. I imagined leaving a shimmering trail of my own.
I often envy invertebrates. They’re fragile, to be sure, but aren’t we all? Sometimes my body feels like it’s melting around that solid inner skeleton. I wonder if I’d be more comfortable with space to spread out. I want to let my insides ebb and flow within the safety of carefully crafted cartilage. I can picture the spirals, like the rings of a tree, my age and wisdom radiating outward. I long for inner softness to be the norm.
Last week, Co—Star told me to be a poem. Today, it notified me that my body is my dungeon door. I love a good metaphor, even (maybe especially) when it feels like a slap in the face. Since my MS diagnosis, I’ve felt betrayed by my body. And I know as I get older that betrayal will get worse. My physical self is a cage, one I can see out of but can’t escape. But I’ve never thought of my body as the dungeon door, only as the dungeon itself. A door, though, can signal freedom as much as entrapment. As I’m constantly reminded, perception is everything. I wonder what’s beyond my perceived limitations.
This newsletter is short and a bit disjointed, but the important thing is that I wrote it. Fatigue has held me underwater this week, but I figured some poetic ramblings were better than nothing. For now, I’m off to contemplate slugs and dungeon doors. Perhaps the invertebrate knows a way through that I haven’t considered.
Until next time,
Yardena
Weekend Potpourri
A letter from Nick Cave to a fan about living with the grief of losing his son
This man has been encouraging Olympic athletes outside the Olympic Village every morning
The Foo Fighters trolled the Westboro Baptist Church with disco