I woke this morning with a poem in my mind.
The words were waiting. Jumbled and swirling, I started to arrange them into something that might make sense. It took most of today to create something that felt right and embodied what I feel today, Valentine’s Day, and every day should be.
Always.
During the iRest program I participated in last November, I spoke with the doctor who facilitates the program about a memory from my childhood that surfaced. I quite vividly remembered a day when I was walking home from school – I’m guessing I was in eighth grade – when I suddenly felt a sensation that might be characterized as an out-of-body experience. I felt as if I wasn’t physically connected to the ground beneath me. I didn’t feel completely connected to my body either, but I could sense and see everything around me it was as if I was simply witnessing what was happening through my eyes. I felt that at any moment, I might float away but, because gravity was doing its job, I wouldn’t go flying off the planet.
I know it sounds strange and I can’t remember having that experience at any other time in my life: the awareness of not actually walking down the street in my body. The iRest program was probably the first time I thought I wouldn’t be considered odd if I shared it, mainly because we talked about the abstract concept of a person’s essence and being, rather than the soul. When I described this memory to the doctor, she told me there is a name for what I experienced. It relates in psychological terms to our consciousness and metaphysically to our essence or being. The experience is known as the ‘groundless ground’, which may even be likened to the ‘witness state’ in meditation. It was a great relief to have a frame of reference for the memory of an experience that felt so strange.
As we discussed it further, the doctor explained more about the metaphysical concepts of ‘essence’ and ‘being’ and asked me to spend some time thinking of what about me, my being, has been consistent throughout my life. Of course, the one thing that surfaced was writing, more specifically writing poetry. Writing poetry may be the one thing in my life that is never forced or analytical and has been part of me for more than half my life. It may be the only thing about myself I never question nor do I wonder why or where it comes from; and of course acquiring this new insight inspired me to write poetry.
Even before the arrival of my illness, sleep was a difficult thing for me. Insomnia and I are old friends, but having to cope with it while dealing with high levels of pain is not an easy thing. When I was working, I used to take advantage of the times I couldn’t sleep by catching up on or completing work tasks early. In some ways it seemed like a blessing to be so productive, but of course there were the drawbacks of struggling to get out of bed many mornings and having to caffeinate myself to get my brain started and to stay alert sometimes later in the day.
When I can’t sleep now, I don’t feel productive, I feel restless, which makes my mind bounce all over the place during the longest stretches of the night. Sometimes I watch TV shows or movies to make the time pass more quickly. Other times I spend hours online poring over pages of articles, news, videos, and interesting writing others post here. Thankfully, many of the things people post here positively occupy my thoughts and lead to me being creative, which feels so much better than being productive.
In the dark, early hours of Thursday morning, a poem I found on Dave Kavanagh’s site, which he titled ‘Dark Eyed Woman’ sparked some creativity to help me pass the time. I was fortunate to engage with him through the comment section of his site and part of our exchange calmed the restlessness of my thoughts enough for me to write some poetry. In this respect – my creativity being sparked so I can write – I still see insomnia as a blessing sometimes. However, I know that sleep is the bigger blessing I need so I can better manage my illness.
My Small Surrenders 