The Sandbox

Amnesia, Art, Healing

6/1/17

6:34AM

Authenticity

A

Any better today?

S

Not really. But I’m alive. And that gives me what I need to keep going and to keep trying. 

A

Would taking a peak at our book work help?

S

I could try. 

LATER

S

I went in and dabbled. And I re-named the draft “Shinkansen” as it was on the bullet train from Tokyo to Kyoto that I seemed to find this clarity to begin again. 

A

How did it feel to work on this?

S

It felt and it feels good. I feel grief. But I feel too that there’s something that I need to do in the work. I feel like it’s my opportunity to display something other-worldly and unique, a new form of writing and healing. 

But maybe I need to bring myself back down to earth and say that I need to do this work to heal—plain and simple. 

And that the other worldly thing is something I need to examine. 

I’m not sure how unique and other-worldly my work is.  And even if it were to be other-worldly it may all just go buried along with me after I die. A thought that fills me with such grief. 

A

Allow, allow, allow. 

S

Help me, A. 

A

This is a journey, S. We examine if we are unique or like everyone else,  Or are we somewhere in the middle and if so, how dead center in the middle are we. 

S

I was thinking yesterday if any of this book writing matters—if I just have myself—my site—with everything linked—like if I can view this as my own little private world and have it all just be fine. 

But lately it feels like it's a million grief soaked miles from being enough. My story still feels untold, unheard, my world inside cloaked in darkness. 

I see clearly now where some people in this world go so celebrated. But most of us just live and die in complete obscurity. And I wonder if this will be my case and my work, all this work.

And...

A

Yes?

S

It was only two weeks ago I was laying on a gurney and everything seemed so pointless. Except Pete. And feeling and knowing down to the bones how much I mattered to him—how my death would nearly kill him. And that’s really the clarity I had—that nothing else really mattered all that much. 

I suppose how could coming that close to death not not impact me. 

I see things maybe not differently but something has changed. 

I see perhaps how small the circles in our lives really are, whether or not your life’s work is known and celebrated or not. I see over these few weeks who knows what happened to me—and who cares—who checks up—who doesn’t. 

I feel gratitude for those whom I can see really care—really get it. And I take note of who is selfish—who is shallow—who is self absorbed. 

A

We cannot help but to notice and to feel. As we come back to good health we realize that we are more awake and alive than we’ve ever been. This can bring us both brighter joy and deeper pain.

Our healing also allows us to both see our potential and to strain too with the fears and doubts that come along with reaching for it. 

S

Truth, A. 

MLG

We reach each day

Despite our tears.

We move towards Towards.

It’s taking years.