In the midst of all this glorious professional and spiritual re-birthing I've been experiencing lay a fair amount of old wounds in need of healing. They have come to the surface in a myriad of ways - through conversations, sessions with Debra, journaling and through my body. It's called a healing crisis and fuck, does this one hurt. Two weeks ago I got the beginning of Anton's latest cold and reached a point where I could not swallow without feeling like I had a cheese grater for a throat. Mark Strand calls the throat the "sleeve of my voice." My inner voice cracked open a wider path and this time I listened.
Shortly after, the real cold came and because my Neti Pot and I are such good friends, the infection abandoned my sinuses and decided to settle in my ear and in my eye. At this point I am laughing, it's so ridiculous!
NOT a good week. But it's good. But it feels bad. So, yes. It's movement and the only way over something is not really OVER it, but through it. I've moved with what feels comfortable and still am doing my work, but I take it slowly.
In honor of the voice that wants to scream, I've posted a prettier (but no less wittier) version of what I'm feeling.
To life! Fuckit!
PS: This was made with a round sable brush, liner brush and FW inks. Liquid love.