Not Actually Recovering, Post #48

[laurawise]

For the past few days I have been veering between fragility and anger. Now I've reached the truly strange state of angry fragility, which is actually weirdly difficult to sustain

Comments

[tx_cronopio]

Those quotes make perfect sense to me.

And I'm not so much recovering as I am hiding from a reality that I do not want to accept.

I am glad that I do not have children, and what more biting indictment could there possibly be?

[laurawise]

I am glad that I do not have children, and what more biting indictment could there possibly be? I am right there too.

Hugs, and may we all get through this. ALL of us.

[anne_d]

I do have adult children, both of whom voted. It's one of those times when I feel guilty about the world they're inheriting.

[laurawise]

You needn't feel guilty. You should be proud of them. [hugs]

[gwynnega]

Those quotes make sense to me.

I keep thinking of the song "Could We Start Again, Please?" from Jesus Christ Superstar.

::hugs::

[laurawise]

That's a great song. We need words and music to give voice to this.

[hugs hugs]

[anne_d]

[hugs and comforting thoughts]

[laurawise]

And the same back to you. [hugs]

[desdemonaspace]

I'm with ya on the fragility and anger. Also in the falling down in self-care. Too numb, I guess.

I think we'll focus eventually, find a game plan. Right now, less than a week later, we're still stunned.

[laurawise]

[hugs] Take care of yourself.

[mamculuna]

Sorry this is so long, but sort of needs all of it. I kept it on my fridge door back in the 60's and again right after 9/11. It sustains me, in spite of its old-fashioned-ness (also sorry about the pronoun, but that was then):

What Are Years?

Marianne Moore

What is our innocence,
what is our guilt? All are
naked, none is safe. And whence
is courage: the unanswered question,
the resolute doubt, -
dumbly calling, deafly listening-that
in misfortune, even death,
encourages others
and in its defeat, stirs

the soul to be strong? He
sees deep and is glad, who
accedes to mortality
and in his imprisonment rises
upon himself as
the sea in a chasm, struggling to be
free and unable to be,
in its surrendering
finds its continuing.

So he who strongly feels,
behaves. The very bird,
grown taller as he sings, steels
his form straight up. Though he is captive,
his mighty singing
says, satisfaction is a lowly
thing, how pure a thing is joy.
This is mortality,
this is eternity.

[laurawise]

That is a wonderful poem. Thank you for sharing it. May your Monday be full of good words and delights.