Pain

Rosemary: Pain February 6 2010


It tightens, snares me in its net,

Pulls and wraps around me;

I smother in its choking hold,

Enwebbed in thorny vines,

Trussed and strangled.

I don’t know why its clutching tentacles

Dig into my flesh –

What starts a muscle knot and makes it grow and grow.



It worsened when I lost my Love,

And refuses to release me to my life again.

I move to shrug it off, then tell it

To let me go along my way

Tuned in to joy and loving --

Leaving Pain behind.


Reflection

I read today that several types of pain respond just as well to placebo as to medication. That indicates that emotions are a root cause of many distressful conditions that we consider physical because we feel them with the body rather than with our hearts. (Not to mention that medications don't do a whole lot for chronic pain unless they dull the mind along with the body). 

For me, muscular pain has become much stronger and more disabling since Ellen died than ever before. Yes, I’m older. Yes, I already had some back pain.

Interestingly, the kind of pain that has become almost a daily companion for me is similar in location and type to that which Ellen suffered for the last 20 years of her life. It would not be surprising if I have responded to grief by breathing less deeply (people often have to remind me to “breathe!” in moments of duress). I have also probably tightened many muscles as a result of stress. That would allow less oxygen, less circulation – leading in turn to a greater sensation of pain. It troubles me to think that there’s some twisted subconscious link to missing Ellen and adopting one of her characteristics – her pain.

I’ve adopted many positive skills that I learned from or with her – appreciation of visual peace and beauty, and caring for the essence of objects, for instance; likewise a sincere interest in other people and the ability (sometimes) to draw them out. I've also gained immensely in my ability to experience compassion, for myself and others. Pain patterns could possibly have been an additional learned “skill.”  I wonder. 

If so, how does one unlearn pain?


Ellen: Eye of the Needle April 10, 1991


The next eye

Of the next needle

Of my life



Is to stay

In my ineluctably pained body

With nowhere to go



Except through the tiny eye.of agony

To find spiritual bliss

On the other side.