...what it is to come out of chronic debilitating illness.
I am coasting in new territory -which is always the case- after a long chronic illness. Leaving an illness where the (ill) conditions are well carved into grooves and finding new ways is a daunting shakedown of what was, into a pressing question of what might be.
With NO guarantees or provision one can count on. A limbo land which feels like a failure while in the midst of a healing recovery. A bit of a mind fuck. But the mind is what is fucking things about helping too much.
Basically this stage is breaking
what has grooved and habits
which have served me up into what is unknown
and having to rebuild without
a supply list,
a todo list, or
even what are possible goals to orient oneself with,
IS what I have learned time and time again,
what it is to come out of chronic debilitating illness.
It is the shits and divine intertwined.
Recovery requires that I must be honest with the down and dirty, and I must hover, in between. I find the sparkle of divine as I lift my gaze. Often we talk of the between times, like a fairie land of magic. But those tales are a distorted depiction of what between truly is.
Just like fairies are hard to spot, if ever, so it is with what is what of the in-between.
And so on.... magic is... magic IS, but it IS NOT off the end of a wand tapped into the air with a gibberish slogan. Magic is present in the fucking between of nothing. So when divine sparkle is realized in the fucking between IT IS fucking magic! Always there…. hard to spot, divine is, as are fairies.
Magic is present in the between of nothing. Always there…. hard to spot, divine is, as are fairies.