For Carry On Tuesday Prompt #71 No one would have believed..’
First off, I’m tired today. Spent over half of yesterday being hauled through tests at the hospital, none of which took into consideration, the reality of my individual physical make-up. I cried, softly, quietly, but I cried. It hurt. A lot. And I so hate crying in public.
I got through all of the procedures, finally got home and tried to lie down and rest. The body went into gear and decided it was time to protest all the mistreatment that had been demanded in the hours prior to just trying to relax. Muscle spasms in weird places, which resulted in walking the cramps out, on legs and feet that were already screaming in rebellion.
Finally got back to bed, and almost asleep when the doctor called with the results that were not all positive. Another appointment for more examination of the findings tomorrow. Don’t ask, I won’t have a clue until then. Although I felt like the day had been lost, I got on my puter and proceeded to at least clear out my email account. Distracting myself, and it worked.
I had, earlier, posted an old poem that always held a bit of discomfort for me. The same discomfort I felt when writing it. It was about an incident that had happened long ago in my past. The discomfort came because I knew that my response was not the “norm.” In fact, it was directly in opposition to what I had been taught to believe.
Yet, when I wrote the poem, I knew that what I was writing was the only response that made sense. Not in my head, but in my gut. And there is, all too often, a lot of distance between those two realities. And that distance, I believe, is the major drawback when it comes to following ones intuitive leadings (especially when they come from the gut, not the head).
The head has all those associations to use as back-up support for whatever leading comes. The gut? It’s just a feeling, most often drifting free and disconnected. And then the head gets involved and starts up with all the questions: “Will anyone else believe this? Will they even understand? What will you say if they don’t? That you just have this gut feeling that makes it right?”
Knowing that a majority of people don’t understand or believe what they can’t see, put their hands on, measure with their own senses, is a difficult gap to traverse. And because I couldn’t, or didn’t, have the words to explain the stance that I took in that poem, just that feeling that it was absolutely right, left me with a feeling of disquiet. I never read the poem aloud, never published it.
But, I kept it in my files, occasionally coming across it as I rummaged through in search of something else. When that would happen, that accompanying doubt would immediately rise up, and I would put it right back in its little dark corner and go on to other things. At least I did that until the day before yesterday.
So why now, after all of these years, did I finally choose to post it? Because a prompt came up on one of the prompt sites, and the first thing that popped into my head was that particular poem. So, with very little thought, I printed it up and hit the publish button. And immediately got a bit swamped with all of those usual feelings and thoughts and questions.
You may have noticed that almost all of my postings, for the last few months, have been in response to a prompt of some sort or another. I am finding that letting go of the control of the matter, or subject, which I address is an incredible way to enhance my own intuitive faculties. And it also seems to allow my subconscious to come forward far more eagerly in response. It has become a path of self-exploration that I might have missed otherwise.
I respond to the comments left on my sites. Engaging in bits of conversation that often also come from an intuitive level. With the first comment on that poem, I knew a tremendous sense of release. I now had the words, the explanation that had not been available when the poem was originally written. My experiences, growth, and wider knowledge had supplied all of it. But, I wouldn’t have realized that until I shared the poem and the thoughts and feelings that were held within its circle.
That reality released me from all thoughts of whatever was going on in my body. Relaxed me in a way that felt like warm arms encircling me, holding me gently and with love and affection. The poem had come full circle, and so had I.
My ‘lost’ day became something else. A finding of self, a sure knowledge that I was in the right place, doing the right thing. And that, in turn, finally allowed me to relax and to eventually sleep undisturbed. Maybe no one else would have believed that was possible. That the mind and the body can and do cooperate to find the balance necessary for a fuller life experience. It doesn’t matter, I know, and that makes all the difference.
*This prompt was taken from the first line of the H.G. Wells novel, War of The Worlds, published in 1898.