I catch myself skimming your prose. Not because it's hard to read in the usual sense; on the contrary it's clear and clearly beautiful. But the reality you describe, or refer to, is hard to face, even in the reading-about. The voice in my head says, "Surely there must still be something to do, something left to try. Some way to fix this, to recover your health. Some way home." As of right now, that isn't true. What is true is your suffering (and that of everyone with ME/CFS) and I CAN"T HELP. But I can honour the truth -- and the effort it took for you to to get here and to write this -- by not turning away. By reading slowly; by reading reflectively. And so I will.
Thank you for reaching out to your readers and letting us know how you are doing. I keep your emails in my inbox so I can send you loving prayers throughout the day. I often wondered how you could write so intensely while not feeling well. You are correct: writing is physical. I admire you so much for sharing your beautiful self with us. And you are a creative inspiration to me. I am a poet and recently I was struggling with a piece and I thought of you and your generosity of self and that helped me finish the poem.
Still, the most important thing is for you to take care of yourself and put yourself first. Write when it moves you and don’t worry about the rest.
You have a group of devoted fans who only want the best for you.
Elizabeth, I'm so glad if you found any inspiration in my writing and I really appreciate the support. I'll have to read that poem! I'm trying my best, you know. It's hard to know what I'm doing and whether I'm in the right, all I can say is that I haven't given up yet and I'm glad you're here.
This is absolutely beautiful, Elizabeth. I really hope people see this. I would love to post this on here so more can see and appreciate your words. I'm not as much into poetry as a writer should but this makes me want to be. Really, really lovely and moving, definitely hit home.
Sam, it's wonderful that you've posted something for your followers...the strength it must have taken is enormous, but is deeply appreciated by those who value your eloquence and deep thought. You are an inspiration to all of us amidst our own suffering.
Thank you, Mary. This one felt a little weird going out, honestly. I just feel out of touch and out of sorts, as I discuss in the piece and as is probably clear to whoever's reading. We'll see what comes next. Your support during this time means a great deal to me.
Thank you for this Samuel. I needed to reread and absorb before replying. I was diagnosed with M.E or chronic fatigue syndrome many years ago. The first ten years or so were miserable and I felt like I had lost everything, although I believe you have had it worse. It is difficult for me to say this without it sounding trite or like psychobabble but I came to a point where I began to largely accept it as if it was just my karma or whatever. After this there came a slow and difficult return to some normality. I have never returned to full time work and I'm certainly not "cured" but, despite days when I want to tear my hair out, my life is much better. I'm cautious to say here what I believe but I think there is something more than what we see around us. Some people may feel frustration about what I have written but let me be clear that I am absolutely not suggesting you can "just pull yourself together", I am not certain this can work for others and maybe I just got lucky, but I believe there is something in it. Also, I am not saying you should just accept and not attempt further treatments. It is more an acceptance that we have to sometimes bear the suffering. I hope I've been clear. Your writing has been valuable to me and many others and I don't want you to give up on life. I do believe that you will find meaning in your life.
David, thank you for reading and absorbing and for this careful response, and I'm sorry about your struggles with ME/CFS. Your compassion and wisdom bleed through the screen. I don't take anything you say badly. I hope something like what you describe is in store for me. Time will tell. It means a lot that you believe I'll find my way through this. I'm doing my literal best. I honestly kind of regret putting this piece out, as I think I should be silent for awhile. But it seems those who read me have more faith in me than I do sometimes. Thanks again for your kindness and support.
I catch myself skimming your prose. Not because it's hard to read in the usual sense; on the contrary it's clear and clearly beautiful. But the reality you describe, or refer to, is hard to face, even in the reading-about. The voice in my head says, "Surely there must still be something to do, something left to try. Some way to fix this, to recover your health. Some way home." As of right now, that isn't true. What is true is your suffering (and that of everyone with ME/CFS) and I CAN"T HELP. But I can honour the truth -- and the effort it took for you to to get here and to write this -- by not turning away. By reading slowly; by reading reflectively. And so I will.
That's okay, Isabel. It's a lot to absorb. Thank you for honoring me and for standing by me.
Hello Samuel,
Thank you for reaching out to your readers and letting us know how you are doing. I keep your emails in my inbox so I can send you loving prayers throughout the day. I often wondered how you could write so intensely while not feeling well. You are correct: writing is physical. I admire you so much for sharing your beautiful self with us. And you are a creative inspiration to me. I am a poet and recently I was struggling with a piece and I thought of you and your generosity of self and that helped me finish the poem.
Still, the most important thing is for you to take care of yourself and put yourself first. Write when it moves you and don’t worry about the rest.
You have a group of devoted fans who only want the best for you.
Xoxo
Elizabeth, I'm so glad if you found any inspiration in my writing and I really appreciate the support. I'll have to read that poem! I'm trying my best, you know. It's hard to know what I'm doing and whether I'm in the right, all I can say is that I haven't given up yet and I'm glad you're here.
Enjoy! xoxo
The First Few Wild Flowers
What could possibly grow here?
What could possibly grow in this desecrated ground
rutted and crumbling, collapsing in on itself.
What could possibly grow from the caked blood
of young men alienated. Their lives
cracked valleys of drugs, of guns, of ropes.
What could possibly grow on this land
made infertile by deafness and
hearts that have stopped beating.
Yet, somehow, in this boiling topsoil
stalks of emerald green emerge glittering
and unafraid of this unfriendly field.
Petals of peach, plum, and lavender.
Gold at their center. Each one
an angel’s face tilting in reverence
towards the wind and possibility.
At ease on this famished, inhospitable plain.
Fearlessly shimmering before God
and the rest of us, who are terrified.
The first few wild flowers.
Their roots, effortlessly, mysteriously expand round us.
Securing our fragile, fractured places,
calming our nameless fears, embracing
the icy layers of our agony.
Pistil and stamen, cradled in the sepal’s bowl,
reach ever upwards, adorned with pollen,
crystalline nectar, sunshine and violet.
They call the bees, the butterflies, and
our forgotten selves to a place of infinite belonging.
In the silence of their stillness
we hear the breeze caressing leaf and stem,
catching our hearts. We feel the whisper within.
The truth of our own breath.
Certain, now, it is the seed of grace.
The first few wild flowers.
We stand before God and are brave.
This is absolutely beautiful, Elizabeth. I really hope people see this. I would love to post this on here so more can see and appreciate your words. I'm not as much into poetry as a writer should but this makes me want to be. Really, really lovely and moving, definitely hit home.
Wow! Thank you so much, Samuel. It means a lot to me that you like it.
And, yes please share. That would be an honor for me. But please do it only when you have energy and time. Take care of yourself first.
Xoxo
Of course. I'll put it up with my next bloggy post, whenever that will be. Thanks again.
Sam, it's wonderful that you've posted something for your followers...the strength it must have taken is enormous, but is deeply appreciated by those who value your eloquence and deep thought. You are an inspiration to all of us amidst our own suffering.
Thank you, Mary. This one felt a little weird going out, honestly. I just feel out of touch and out of sorts, as I discuss in the piece and as is probably clear to whoever's reading. We'll see what comes next. Your support during this time means a great deal to me.
Thank you for this Samuel. I needed to reread and absorb before replying. I was diagnosed with M.E or chronic fatigue syndrome many years ago. The first ten years or so were miserable and I felt like I had lost everything, although I believe you have had it worse. It is difficult for me to say this without it sounding trite or like psychobabble but I came to a point where I began to largely accept it as if it was just my karma or whatever. After this there came a slow and difficult return to some normality. I have never returned to full time work and I'm certainly not "cured" but, despite days when I want to tear my hair out, my life is much better. I'm cautious to say here what I believe but I think there is something more than what we see around us. Some people may feel frustration about what I have written but let me be clear that I am absolutely not suggesting you can "just pull yourself together", I am not certain this can work for others and maybe I just got lucky, but I believe there is something in it. Also, I am not saying you should just accept and not attempt further treatments. It is more an acceptance that we have to sometimes bear the suffering. I hope I've been clear. Your writing has been valuable to me and many others and I don't want you to give up on life. I do believe that you will find meaning in your life.
David, thank you for reading and absorbing and for this careful response, and I'm sorry about your struggles with ME/CFS. Your compassion and wisdom bleed through the screen. I don't take anything you say badly. I hope something like what you describe is in store for me. Time will tell. It means a lot that you believe I'll find my way through this. I'm doing my literal best. I honestly kind of regret putting this piece out, as I think I should be silent for awhile. But it seems those who read me have more faith in me than I do sometimes. Thanks again for your kindness and support.
Such an honor, Samuel. Let me know if you would like me to send you a formatted version - whenever you are ready. Sending lots of love. Xoxo