waiting on the front porch

she just stood there on the front porch waiting for her will to come and get her she was packed she had a suitcase full of noble intentions she had a map and a straight face hell bent on reinvention she was learning about please and huge humilities then one day she looked around her and everything up til then was showing and she wondered how did i get here without even knowing where i was going? ~ani difranco

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Location: montreal, quebec, Canada


Saturday, August 19, 2006

"may you live every day of your life." - jonathan swift

the past few days have been a pleasant blur for me. i started work the other day, finally, on the script idea i've had in my mind for months now; yesterday i dealt with the massive hangover from all the cosmopolitans i drank for inspiration.
i like the idea i have. i like how it's coming out. it rarely happens this way, but when it does, holy hell does it remind me of why i'm a writer. there's something so magical about the way words spill out when the timing's right - like watching this cosmic jigsaw coming together in one big sigh of satisfaction.

i'm also reading like a fiend right now - that probably has everything to do with it. i'm still enthralled with three day road, and am actually pacing myself through it so it will last longer (i'm trying to get used to delaying gratification that way.) i've also picked up othello, and no language is neutral, by dionne brand. it feels like i might just be able to tiptoe up to all the projects i've been wanting to work on - the little wisps of poetry, those stories - and seduce them into coming home with me.

on thursday, i went to physiotherapy for my weekly re-alignment. this is notable for a few reasons: the first being that i brought met with me.

i find it hard to trust people with my weaknesses; i always want to appear to be the strong woman, in control of her life and surroundings - always ready with an easy laugh and supportive shoulder. i don't like asking for support for myself at all, but like every other being on this planet, i need it sometimes.
met came with me to learn some of the stretches and massages that flood (my physiotherapist) does for me, in case i won't be able to afford to continue to go. he watched as flood asked me about my pain and i answered honestly - not something i do in front of people often. he watched as flood took my leg and dug his thumbs into my muscles as hard as he could to release the stiffness. i lay there, sometimes flinching in reaction, but pliable beneath flood's touch, completely vulnerable - and i felt nothing but peace. i was expecting (and wanting to confront) feelings of insecurity and self-consciousness, but instead it just felt natural.

the second reason physio was special for me this week was because flood told me that i've made great progress in the month since i started going. apparently, my hips are stabilizing and not 'moving around my body' as much - (that is incredibly hard for me to visualize, but whatever). when he said that, something dawned on me, and i asked him if the pain i've been feeling for the past month - basically localized in my hip joint and in my shin - was because things were changing inside, shifting and settling down. he said yes. he said that, (and i'm paraphrasing and probably being a bit hopeful), my body is accomodating new space, and that the pain is natural and will settle down once i'm used to it.

right away the fear that had been shadowing the pain melted away. it was a whole new way of considering pain - as a harbinger of growth, a signpost that i'm heading in the right direction. as a thing of beauty and hope in my life.

my sister, banane, is an organic farmer living in the country outside of toronto. she grows all kinds of vegetables and herbs, boils beeswax to make healing salves and lip balms, and knows more about food than almost anyone i know. she and i have spoken often about fire-clearing to prepare the land - when farmers light a controlled part of their fields on fire in order to start over. once the fire has burned out, and the soil has a chance to fully rest, that new and indescribable growth can take place.

i like the idea of pain as cleansing fire. that if i am in a place of difficulty or discomfort, that it is just because my body or soul is getting rid of something unnecessary, and that i am growing towards a place of fallow creativity, sprouting new buds of understanding. all i have to do is remember to be patient, and breathe.


Blogger ruby said...

glad that you were able to reach out and ask for support when you needed it...perhaps this, too, is part of the new space that your body is making room for...

11:31 a.m.  
Blogger Sacred Suzie said...

Stunning post Bee, you really got me thinking about the pain analogy with fire. Sometimes I feel like I breathe fire. I will try and use it as a cleansing power so that my body may begin again. Long live the phoenix of our lives.

I'm glad you made such progress with your pain. This is a huge accomplishment. And your writing too!

1:28 p.m.  
Blogger Superhero Activist said...

"i like the idea of pain as cleansing fire. that if i am in a place of difficulty or discomfort, that it is just because my body or soul is getting rid of something unnecessary, and that i am growing towards a place of fallow creativity, sprouting new buds of understanding. all i have to do is remember to be patient, and breathe."

My god. Words to live by, to seize and hold. May I borrow these as I go about my own struggle, feeling the pangs of growing?

You have such a wonderful, beautiful soul. The strength of your perspective is inspiring, I shall carry that inspiration with me throughout the day.

2:45 p.m.  
Blogger bee said...

ruby~ i have been thinking much the same. the way i normally change is unnoticeable to me, but this summer i have noticed HUGE leaps in my perspective happening, huge track switches...i like this (not leaf, it's a tree) that's unfolding....

suzie~ thank you...check your comments, okay? i hope to hear from you, if you want to.

john~ borrow them, tattoo them on yourself, anything you need, my friend. and thank you for the stunning compliment.

3:03 p.m.  
Blogger Claire said...

Great post hon, and I'm glad all is going well! It's great to have Bee back!

9:58 a.m.  
Blogger Spiky Zora Jones said...

Hey baby doll, I loved this post. Wonderful to see that release of control. It's another building brick.
I grew up in a farming town and saw this every burning season, though never seeing the beauty in it. Next when the swirls of smoke rise in the distance, I'll remember your words and reflect... is it time that I do the same? later babes.

10:22 a.m.  
Blogger bee said...

claire~ thank you.

zora~ glad i could help. talk to you soon.

11:50 a.m.  
Blogger Susannah said...

i'm starting to learn that it is okay to be vulnerable, that in fact this perceived vulnerability is in fact great strength because we are being honest..... the cleansing fire is where i am growing from, and you remind me to be thankful for this...lovely post sweetie (i pace myself with books i love too :) x

1:15 p.m.  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Hey hon. Not to worry bout the other night. I was there, but maybe hiding in the trees. Was reading, could be I didn't see you. We'll do it again. :)


8:51 p.m.  
Blogger Jessie said...

i like the way you put this--and have decided to take your words to heart.

awesome writing, my dear. you're on a role!

9:03 p.m.  
Blogger megg said...

hello! First I wanted to thank you for your kind words on my blog - sorry i haven't followed you here sooner. But I am glad I did today - wow, what a post!!! I hope that your pain settles down - imagine what it is making room for! There will be room for everything you've ever wanted!!!

2:44 a.m.  
Blogger bee said...

susannah~ a wise friend of mine came to the realization that, during his journey, his "unfinished parts" weren't actually supposed to be got rid of, they were supposed to remain a part of him. i like that there is a supportive blogging community out "here" who are discovering that it's beautiful to be vulnerable.
and thank you, sweetie.

wo~ no problems. i actually thought you were mad at me! yay for not being mad.

jessie~ you too. your post about being homesick brought me to tears. you evoked emotion so well.

megg~ thank you. i know i'll be back to your site, definitely. and don't worry about the delay - i don't mind - we all have life to deal with too. :)

6:50 a.m.  
Blogger Thomas said...

Ah, I just made a Swiftian post on my blog recently too:


10:58 a.m.  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

nah, not mad. Why, I'm late all the time! Besides, I needed to get to Lionel to see an apt. So, all good. :)

See you soon. wo

2:04 p.m.  

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