Meantime, Down in the Deep Dark Dell…..

With all the rain of the last few weeks - and more today - there’s been plenty of growth in the lawn.  I think ours is a ‘field grass’ lawn, with a few bits of better class turf which have been bought in along the way to bolster the gardener’s morale.  What we actually need is a robust, low-growth, sturdy, fine-leafed, dog-pee-proof, maintenance-free, hen-proof type of grass which grows extremely slowly…….  Any suggestions?

Having pulverized said grass into submission with the mower I now find I need to crash on the sofa for 6 hours. … well, for 30 mins minimum.  Just taking the dog out has a similar effect. This fatigue and lethargy may relate to the recent finding of raised blood pressure, which will be addressed with doc tomorrow morning.  That Easter Wipeout Virus may be involved, as a persisting erratic cough has been surfacing intermittently since then.  And the recent growing realization that the HRT was probably a significant factor re headaches, low morale, increasing irritability, poor quality sleep, joint pains and recurring hot flushes instigated a stop……. some relief for 5 days, but then the sleep and flushes got even worse, so back to the formula of several months ago which made a HUGE difference – for about 2 weeks…………. Oh, to have been born male………

I guess this current ‘deep, dark, dell’ holds a few insights as well as multiple chewy beanstalks for the old cow ….(reference to my Latin teacher’s attempt many moons ago to remind her pupils of the vocal stresses considered necessary when reading pentameter verses out loud….. visit ‘ChickPea Risotto’ to read the rhyme)………

As a teenager I lived for several years in deeply distressing gloomy despondency.  My teenage friends didn’t seem to relate to this at all, so it was mostly held within.  I confided a little in my parish priest, a kind and wise gentleman (with a wife and 3 daughters) who did his utmost to guide, support and encourage my spiritual journey and development through those troublous times. 

As my family didn’t even begin to acknowledge or communicate about ‘internal stuff’ I don’t suppose they had much of a clue, really – I was just their moody Youngest who wouldn’t ‘snap out of it’ (….like there was a choice, eh?)

For me, it was just how/where Life Was.  It never occurred to me that there might be a REASON for it – like the hormonal shifts / imbalances which assail some at puberty.  I hope that today’s parents, priests, GPs and youngsters are better informed.  But I now realize that the Dark Places I have been bogged down in for these last many weeks of Great Grief seem to have a very similar terrain to those swamps encountered in teenage years.  Hormonal Gymnastics seems very likely to be a related, and maybe the causal, factor.

Insights like these don’t feel like a lot of help, however.  GP or Specialist just says, “stay with these tablets a bit longer and see if it all settles down”, or, “well, I have just the answer to the sleeping problem – take these”……. so the joint pains return, irritability sneaks in below the radar and escalates into epic proportions before muggins notices Something Is Amiss.   

Fortunately I have generous friends who accept me as I am.  Such kindness is a gift more precious than anything, and such Friendship is awesome………

Depths of Doldrum Duvet.......

ChickPea is wandering around in the Doldrums and has lost her map at the moment. Somewhat bogged down and struggling to find a way forward thru tangled briars, bindweed and stinging nettles…..

It is a well known fact of Life that unresolved anger can hide quietly in the internal dustbin until a new, maybe exceedingly trivial annoyance, lifts the lid and allows the whole shebang to explode with a response completely out of proportion to the triggering incident.  I grew up with a Much Loved who held such anger, and it is not an easy one to live alongside.

But I don’t think I had realized that Disappointments and Sadnesses can have a similar cumulative effect. 

Disappointments and Sadnesses can appear to have been fully  accepted, dispersed and assimilated into your Life’s Rich Tapestry……… but nonetheless there can be a heap of accumulating disappointments getting bigger when you’re not looking – you’re just doing your best to get on with survival and putting one foot in front of the other. …..

And THEN there’s the possibility that such a heap will reach a point where it just topples over and overwhelms you…….

Horrid “illness” bugs, working too many hours in the week, childlessness, bereavements, lost jobs, missed opportunities, public ‘fluffs’ in rare solo singing opportunities,  friendships that have foundered – or seem to be foundering, personal potential that hasn’t found a way of nurture or development …….. generally accumulated clutter.............. and far, FAR too much rain………. and, no doubt, age and hormones………

 All of these seem to feature in ChickPea’s current landscape, blotting out blessings and blurring perspective.  Most had been lying down, so quietly slipping under the radar…….. seemingly ‘sorted’ (as Glasgow would put it) ……but ALL now jumping around with great vigour ....... proving a little tricky to handle and impossible to ignore………… worse to catch and deal with even than recalcitrant hens ……..

I guess some sunshine would help………. (it would certainly help the hens).

So I guess this is by way of apology to all who have any contact with me……… I haven’t been blogging, I haven’t been visiting around the blogosphere, I haven’t been my usual interested, outgoing and affirming self, I really haven’t been much fun to live with, and, I guess, I haven’t fully been ME……. 

I know the grass will grow over all, but it may take a bit longer yet to create a lawn ………

A Most Mighty Mystery

For much of my life, the ‘Easter Season’ has been a major focal point of my life.  Lent, Holy Week and so to Easter…….. a yearly recurrence with ecclesiastically structured prompts of silence and solitude to stop, review, reflect, assess and reassess ……  meeting myself……..who I am…… what I am……… where I am at ……..  Not an easy process, and rarely a comfortable or enjoyable undertaking.  But, sure as light follows darkness and eggs is eggs, this time of year seems to require of me a certain engagement with the essence of mortality…… a kind of ‘head to head’ with fundamental reality. 

For me, this Lent has involved a looking back over my shoulder, whispers from the past, glimpsed shadows of The Loved But Lost  who have passed on to eternity …….. renewed recognition that Water Passes Under The Bridge, and the twigs and ‘Pooh sticks’ of everyday existence catch in the reeds for a moment, then swirl away out of sight and into the far distance………….        The hopes and dreams of what the future just might hold fading in the harsh glare of Time’s headlights.

And so we reached Palm Sunday last weekend, then on into Holy Week. 

Today we approached the Maundy Thursday liturgy.  Stark contrasts of a rich sung mass (this year to be the Rheinberger setting) with the slightly embarrassing simplicity of feet being washed; the clash of fancy ornate robes and vestments with the everyday action of taking, breaking and sharing bread and wine.  So much Big, Bright, Shiny and Lavish……. and then the shocking and harsh removal of all our accustomed church furnishings and embellishments ……..  the solemn procession to a symbolic garden……. and then a darkened, chastened church…… and silent vigil …. the waiting for the end of it …….

So it would be, as so many times before.  The rituals stirring up the hearts and minds and feelings of the assembled congregation in so many ways……. some engrossed in the act of worship…….  others just there for the music….. some appalled at the time it was all taking…….    others perplexed by the sheer drama……. Tumultuous, as at Gethsemane.

So it would be, and, I guess, so it was. 

TH has been floored by an ‘upper respiratory tract infection’ for the last two weeks or so, sore throat, hacking cough, sleepless nights, papertrail of tissues…….. not a chance for him of singing the glorious Rheinberger this time. 

Ten days behind him, finally feeling flesh succumbing to the inevitable last Sunday,  I thought I would at least manage to be a part of the assembly tonight.  Rehearsing tonight I realised this hope was futile.  The voice was strained, and though in tune (so far as the dull deaf ear could tell) was probably not particularly pleasant and doubtless far from reliable. Risk assessment  for the occasion indicated strategic withdrawal was mandatory.

So I took the dog out to romp with her canine companions in the gathering dusk, marvelled at the beauty of first-laid eggs from our junior hens, and moped with my husband. 

Head to head with the disappointment and devastation of not being where I wished to be, nor doing what I wanted, and not even feeling up to returning later on to creep in to the dim and desolate silence, finally sheds yet another perspective upon fragile Mortality.