Jennifer! That piece is gorgeous. You all, anyone reading this, click on that link. You won't be disappointed.
And thank you. I think of this essay as a start. I want to, well, stretch it. But it was what I could get to by Sunday, and I wanted to share here as I do of a Sunday. I say this because your piece reminded me of that--to add my piece to my list of starts. Your piece is soooo wonderful--that fist, that chrysalis, the ogre. Mmmm. I love that about having writing friends, how their work inspires.
I knew you've been going through something, but I didn't realize how much we've shared. My goodness, chronic pain is really something, isn't it? We'll have to connect more on this someday.
Thank you ever so much for reading and sharing and creating beauty even amid suffering.
Oh, thank you so much for this thoughtful, generous reading of my work, Holly! Yes, we'll have to connect more on this someday. It is a comfort to know you are not alone on this path, isn't it? Perhaps not enough of one, but it counts for something. Sending you lots of love and strength for the road ahead. xoxo
Ohhh Holly, I hope you’re doing better now. And I hope you get the help you need.
I related to your tendency to get caught up with ‘just one more thing’ and given my own experience with chronic pain — I’ve often wondered if that’s the universes ways of encouraging me to slow down and not do ‘one more’. However, I must say I liked your summation much more in that, yes, sometimes it seems life just wants to stretch us.
I'm doing pretty well these days. New meds, new routine (involves yoga ;)-), new normal, all hopeful.
I do think I'd do well to slow down some of the time. I'm all about balance. So I won't entirely boo the push to keep going. Sometimes it's a wonderful urge that leads to heights not otherwise attainable. But enjoying the slow, seeing in it, too, value and depth and wonder--that's where I need to stretch to.
I knew you'd relate. Thanks again, my friend. Your support means a lot.
Glad to hear you’re doing well, Holly. And yes, I agree it’s all about striking that balance — as I certainly can’t poo-poo my tendency to push hard, I’m very thankful for it. It’s just learning when to and when not to.
When I look at things at a larger scale, I often think that trying to learn these lessons and grow in these ways is actually a pretty cool game. :)
Maybe this is all a quiet sign pointing you to a sword swallowing career? I mean, how does one decide that this is what they are meant to do? There are a surprising number of how-to instructional videos on this topic. You'd definitely self-stretch your esophagus. Just something to consider!
Holly, thank you for this piece. The way you write about chronic pain and how it relates to life and the world and human experience is so vulnerable and beautiful. And it is giving me the bravery to process, maybe even write about, my own journey. Thank you so much for your words, as always I am left a little more whole after reading x
Eggzackly that my friend, just like life that may hand us something unexpected just to see how we might deal with it? Quite the experience to take it on, learn, change and grow. No one said it wold be easy, just said it would be worthwhile. Who said that? Regardless,that seems to have been what happened to me, now 6 weeks later and what a ride! Check out my last two posts for an update, and at this point, gratitude for meeting the challengees thus far, with a lot of good help and support. All the best to you, Holly.
To stretching and what stretches us and the good grace of dawn and silence. Wishing you the poetic possibility that your body has stretched you enough not to ask you to endure more stretching.
Thank you, dear friend. I'm doing quite well for now. A new medication has me hopeful. And even through it all, there has been a great deal of the wonderful type of stretching--the kind that has led me to new ways of thinking, of creating, and to new wonderful friends and creators.
Oh wonderful. Charlie will most certainly enjoy a visit. He for sure wishes I'd stop photographing him. I've since learned how good particularly jumping spiders' eyesight is and have apologized, as he does shrink back when I lean in for a shot. (I may need a good camera with a good lens soon.)
And I'm delighted that you've an eight-legged spirit guardian!
"My morning stroll today ended with me moving toward sun rays and fog and frost. Everything—tree, house, car, cat—mere hint behind gauze and gossamer." How I love this and the line Kimberly pulled...
You are amazing! Hugs from my own morning stroll in gauzy light and frost! ❄️x
Isn't gauzy light wonderful? It's one of the things that makes me so giddy I'm momentarily rendered happy simply to exist. Maybe it's a glimpse of nirvana or something. If I thought of anyone who might likely feel the same way about it, it'd be you.
Hugs back your way, my friend. I appreciate you dearly.
I'm so sorry you're going through this, Holly. I wrote a note a couple of weeks ago about why I had to leave the Sonoran Desert that I loved. What I didn't mention in the note regarding my health issues is that I had a reoccurring problem with choking from food, and I had a difficult time swallowing supplements-that I still have. The doctors talked about "stretching," but we never did. It seems like it was food and environmental allergies. I'm not implying that's what might be happening with you, but I sympathize. It is dang frightening when that happens—sending hugs to you.
Paulette, I saw that note and found it so interesting. It's wild and wonderful what our bodies know and ask for and beautiful when we're willing and able to listen. So glad you listened to yours.
Also interesting, I was in the Sonoran Desert when I first became aware of my esophagus issues (the incident mentioned in this essay). Hmmmm. Who knows? I've since been to Alaska and a whole lot of places in between. And I've done a few experiments with possible food allergies. I'm not quite sure what's going on. But it does seem likely it's "simply" inflammation. I've seemed to have some massive inflammatory response triggered at some point not quite pinpoint-able (to me) (yet) (and maybe never).
At any rate, thank you so much for the hugs and for sharing. (And in case you ever do decide to do the stretching--hoping it doesn't come back of course--know that it's honestly a very easy procedure. Or I should say, for me, it was. And I'm glad of the results.)
Sweet Charlie. Spiders are dream weavers, symbols of patience, creativity, resourcefulness...and offer help in overcoming fear.
I must say, having one's esophagus stretched sounds much less pleasant than you look in that photo. I suspect you don't always feel strong, Holly, but your words channel that for sure. Strength and discovery, I'm so glad you are persevering and finding paths that continue to lead toward dawn.
Ooooohhhh!! I love all of that about spiders. Thank you, Charlie! I realize I'm projecting (and anthropomorphizing and perhaps misgendering), but he's absolutely a treat to watch. He'll do this thing where he rappels down on a thin strand of web but doesn't quite extend it long enough and then reaches out toward the desk or wherever he's going, sort of blindly reaching, and then, whoops, he falls, sort of rears up, and then takes off. I'll be like, "Buddy! Are you OK?" And sometimes I'll slide a box or book or something over below him. Ha! I'm easily entertained.
The esophagus stretch is actually a pretty easy procedure. I mean, I'm totally out for it. And then I have a sore throat for the next few days. And I'm glad of the result. The swallowing difficulty was kind of surprisingly crazy painful.
And thank you. Lots of discovery for sure. And feeling pretty dang well these most recent days. :)
God yes, these bodies, like sacred teachers, tether us to the truth of uncertainty. May you continue to open wide to the resting point inside the not knowing.
I love this prose so much:
“How dawn and silence can gentle a place, a time (the kind that was) never ceases to touch me. It’s true of birds and squirrels too. And laughter and kindness. And time (the kind that moves).”
Thank you, my friend. I thought of your conversation with Eric as I was finishing up this essay--about allowing being the word over accepting. It's a really wonderful concept--allowing uncertainty, allowing the rest point and the unknowing. And again you've found the perfect word--opening.
Sacred teachers, indeed, as are friends and fellow writers.
Oh Holly, thank you for this beautiful, vulnerable essay. I posted this recently on another thread but it seems relevant here too! Stretching is a central theme. https://chestnutreview.com/jennifer-robinson-sonata-for-pain/
How dawn and silence can gentle a place never ceases to touch me, too. ❤️
Jennifer! That piece is gorgeous. You all, anyone reading this, click on that link. You won't be disappointed.
And thank you. I think of this essay as a start. I want to, well, stretch it. But it was what I could get to by Sunday, and I wanted to share here as I do of a Sunday. I say this because your piece reminded me of that--to add my piece to my list of starts. Your piece is soooo wonderful--that fist, that chrysalis, the ogre. Mmmm. I love that about having writing friends, how their work inspires.
I knew you've been going through something, but I didn't realize how much we've shared. My goodness, chronic pain is really something, isn't it? We'll have to connect more on this someday.
Thank you ever so much for reading and sharing and creating beauty even amid suffering.
Oh, thank you so much for this thoughtful, generous reading of my work, Holly! Yes, we'll have to connect more on this someday. It is a comfort to know you are not alone on this path, isn't it? Perhaps not enough of one, but it counts for something. Sending you lots of love and strength for the road ahead. xoxo
Ohhh Holly, I hope you’re doing better now. And I hope you get the help you need.
I related to your tendency to get caught up with ‘just one more thing’ and given my own experience with chronic pain — I’ve often wondered if that’s the universes ways of encouraging me to slow down and not do ‘one more’. However, I must say I liked your summation much more in that, yes, sometimes it seems life just wants to stretch us.
A beautifully written piece Holly. :)
Thank you, Michael.
I'm doing pretty well these days. New meds, new routine (involves yoga ;)-), new normal, all hopeful.
I do think I'd do well to slow down some of the time. I'm all about balance. So I won't entirely boo the push to keep going. Sometimes it's a wonderful urge that leads to heights not otherwise attainable. But enjoying the slow, seeing in it, too, value and depth and wonder--that's where I need to stretch to.
I knew you'd relate. Thanks again, my friend. Your support means a lot.
Glad to hear you’re doing well, Holly. And yes, I agree it’s all about striking that balance — as I certainly can’t poo-poo my tendency to push hard, I’m very thankful for it. It’s just learning when to and when not to.
When I look at things at a larger scale, I often think that trying to learn these lessons and grow in these ways is actually a pretty cool game. :)
"It'll have to be stretched again." Yup. Exactly like life. Thanks for the reminder. Beautiful piece.
Thank you, my friend. ♥️♥️♥️
You've definitely been on quite the journey with your health! Hope you are feeling better now and things are 'undet control' as much as they can be.
Thank you, Sophie!
I am feeling better these days. It’s a bit of a new normal. And it’s working.
♥️♥️♥️
Maybe this is all a quiet sign pointing you to a sword swallowing career? I mean, how does one decide that this is what they are meant to do? There are a surprising number of how-to instructional videos on this topic. You'd definitely self-stretch your esophagus. Just something to consider!
Hahahahahaha!
Oh my god, I needed that laugh so much.
This may be my favorite comment ever!
♥️♥️♥️
So glad we’ve connected, my friend.
Me too, Holly! "A friendship based on warty toads, teddy bear cacti and sword-swallowing" would be our bio.
Perfect!
Holly, thank you for this piece. The way you write about chronic pain and how it relates to life and the world and human experience is so vulnerable and beautiful. And it is giving me the bravery to process, maybe even write about, my own journey. Thank you so much for your words, as always I am left a little more whole after reading x
Rebecca, thank you, thank you. This makes my heart calm and warm. 🥰
Eggzackly that my friend, just like life that may hand us something unexpected just to see how we might deal with it? Quite the experience to take it on, learn, change and grow. No one said it wold be easy, just said it would be worthwhile. Who said that? Regardless,that seems to have been what happened to me, now 6 weeks later and what a ride! Check out my last two posts for an update, and at this point, gratitude for meeting the challengees thus far, with a lot of good help and support. All the best to you, Holly.
Okay! Looking forward to reading about whatever fork came up in your road.
Thank you for reading, my friend!
To stretching and what stretches us and the good grace of dawn and silence. Wishing you the poetic possibility that your body has stretched you enough not to ask you to endure more stretching.
Thank you, dear friend. I'm doing quite well for now. A new medication has me hopeful. And even through it all, there has been a great deal of the wonderful type of stretching--the kind that has led me to new ways of thinking, of creating, and to new wonderful friends and creators.
All good wishes, Holly, that this medication does the trick and sets your energy free to enjoy the fruits of the wonderful type of stretching.
Even though pain, your words are so graceful and powerful. I think of you often and pray for your healing. 🤍
Thank you, Cici! I appreciate you dearly.
I'm doing well these days. A new med and new routine (which involves yoga again, finally, and apropos of this post) has me hopeful.
Sending love your way. :)
That makes me SO HAPPY to hear!!!!!!! Yay for the right meds, routines, yoga, and hope!!!!!
Discovered recently that one of my spirit guardians is a spider - I'll send her over to hang out with Charlie and watch over you. Sending 💜
Oh wonderful. Charlie will most certainly enjoy a visit. He for sure wishes I'd stop photographing him. I've since learned how good particularly jumping spiders' eyesight is and have apologized, as he does shrink back when I lean in for a shot. (I may need a good camera with a good lens soon.)
And I'm delighted that you've an eight-legged spirit guardian!
♥️ back your way.
Lovely writing about a painful subject. I really admire how can do this. Here’s to healing, Holly
Thank you, Anna. I much appreciate your saying so.
I'm doing pretty dang well these recent days. :)
Love your way. Even if you refuse to share your sweet new car friend.
Ha! 🥰
What a process, Holly. Healing vibes sending your way.
Thank you, Jeanine! It has been a process. I've learned of processes this past year I had no idea existed! 🤣
That one is very different.
Your writing is amazing Holly,
"My morning stroll today ended with me moving toward sun rays and fog and frost. Everything—tree, house, car, cat—mere hint behind gauze and gossamer." How I love this and the line Kimberly pulled...
You are amazing! Hugs from my own morning stroll in gauzy light and frost! ❄️x
Gah! Thank you, Susie.
Isn't gauzy light wonderful? It's one of the things that makes me so giddy I'm momentarily rendered happy simply to exist. Maybe it's a glimpse of nirvana or something. If I thought of anyone who might likely feel the same way about it, it'd be you.
Hugs back your way, my friend. I appreciate you dearly.
You'd be right to do so Holly, hugs right back at you ! xx
I'm so sorry you're going through this, Holly. I wrote a note a couple of weeks ago about why I had to leave the Sonoran Desert that I loved. What I didn't mention in the note regarding my health issues is that I had a reoccurring problem with choking from food, and I had a difficult time swallowing supplements-that I still have. The doctors talked about "stretching," but we never did. It seems like it was food and environmental allergies. I'm not implying that's what might be happening with you, but I sympathize. It is dang frightening when that happens—sending hugs to you.
Paulette, I saw that note and found it so interesting. It's wild and wonderful what our bodies know and ask for and beautiful when we're willing and able to listen. So glad you listened to yours.
Also interesting, I was in the Sonoran Desert when I first became aware of my esophagus issues (the incident mentioned in this essay). Hmmmm. Who knows? I've since been to Alaska and a whole lot of places in between. And I've done a few experiments with possible food allergies. I'm not quite sure what's going on. But it does seem likely it's "simply" inflammation. I've seemed to have some massive inflammatory response triggered at some point not quite pinpoint-able (to me) (yet) (and maybe never).
At any rate, thank you so much for the hugs and for sharing. (And in case you ever do decide to do the stretching--hoping it doesn't come back of course--know that it's honestly a very easy procedure. Or I should say, for me, it was. And I'm glad of the results.)
Sweet Charlie. Spiders are dream weavers, symbols of patience, creativity, resourcefulness...and offer help in overcoming fear.
I must say, having one's esophagus stretched sounds much less pleasant than you look in that photo. I suspect you don't always feel strong, Holly, but your words channel that for sure. Strength and discovery, I'm so glad you are persevering and finding paths that continue to lead toward dawn.
Ooooohhhh!! I love all of that about spiders. Thank you, Charlie! I realize I'm projecting (and anthropomorphizing and perhaps misgendering), but he's absolutely a treat to watch. He'll do this thing where he rappels down on a thin strand of web but doesn't quite extend it long enough and then reaches out toward the desk or wherever he's going, sort of blindly reaching, and then, whoops, he falls, sort of rears up, and then takes off. I'll be like, "Buddy! Are you OK?" And sometimes I'll slide a box or book or something over below him. Ha! I'm easily entertained.
The esophagus stretch is actually a pretty easy procedure. I mean, I'm totally out for it. And then I have a sore throat for the next few days. And I'm glad of the result. The swallowing difficulty was kind of surprisingly crazy painful.
And thank you. Lots of discovery for sure. And feeling pretty dang well these most recent days. :)
Awww....Charlie! So endearing, the two of you.
Do you know how much I smiled to reach that you're feeling pretty dang well these days? That is fabulous! 😃
God yes, these bodies, like sacred teachers, tether us to the truth of uncertainty. May you continue to open wide to the resting point inside the not knowing.
I love this prose so much:
“How dawn and silence can gentle a place, a time (the kind that was) never ceases to touch me. It’s true of birds and squirrels too. And laughter and kindness. And time (the kind that moves).”
Thank you, my friend. I thought of your conversation with Eric as I was finishing up this essay--about allowing being the word over accepting. It's a really wonderful concept--allowing uncertainty, allowing the rest point and the unknowing. And again you've found the perfect word--opening.
Sacred teachers, indeed, as are friends and fellow writers.