Only a Matter of Time

It has come to this.  Just five days into the life of this blog, we have arrived at the inevitable, the perennial issue of mothers and children — raised in yesterday’s post re Kevin’s website and Darla’s comment.  I suppose it was only a matter of time.

Well, specifically on that perennial issue of mothers and children — least said by me, soonest mended.

More generally — childhood losses, finds, and adult re-connections — Bugs was all of that, wrapped up in one willful, confounding gray-and-white furball.  I had moments of piercing joy, just looking at him — of excitement at the potential for more lasting and durable connection with him — and of bafflement and, at times, of sheer despair at how to proceed with him.

My life as a child?  Like I said, least said, soonest mended.

Back then, were it not for Albert Payson Terhune’s Lad of Sunnybank

and Farley Mowat’s The Dog Who Wouldn’t Be

and I wanted to die, I felt I surely would die of a broken heart, at the end of Old Yeller

In my adult life I’ve re-entered that kind of intense feeling.  I’ve felt the joy of the material-self through the FELDENKRAIS work:  Laying hands on another person and, together, entering a domain of ease and well-being that’s been endlessly sustaining.

With Bugs?  No dice.  My hands literally itched to touch him. He  would have none of them.  Like I said yesterday — I couldn’t even sit next to him.

I’ve felt the joy of the emotional-self through the NONVIOLENT COMMUNICATION work:  Connecting my own feelings and deepest aspirations with those of another person and, together, entering a domain of understanding and communion that’s been endlessly refreshing, sustaining.

With Bugs?  Nuh-uh.  My heart, my soul, yearned to understand him.  In vain.

He was so beyond my reach.  Out of my hands, utterly incomprehensible, and inflicting pain not pleasure.

That’s what I meant when I said, yesterday, that I needed help.

So maybe now we’re ready to talk about Mother Teresa.


About nadbugs

Anita loves cats. This must be because she, too, has had nine lives. She’s been dancing since she could walk, she was a commercial artist and advertising producer, she earned a third-degree black belt in Aikido, she is a drummer with the Afrique Aya Dance Company, she is an attorney, and she’s a meditator and a devoted student of Nonviolent Communication. She also spent one lifetime sidelined with a devastating back injury in 1992. Since then – FELDENKRAIS METHOD® to the rescue. The FELDENKRAIS METHOD is all about dreaming concretely – thinking intelligently and independently by way of a gracious and kind physicality. The work affords all who study it a process by which to reach, with movement, into the mind and the heart, to make nine lives into one whole being.
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3 Responses to Only a Matter of Time

  1. Christine says:

    “He was so beyond my reach. Out of my hands, utterly incomprehensible, and inflicting pain not pleasure.” Sounds like many of my relationships. I wonder about how to reach that balance of connection…the sweet spot. Somewhere between “the least said the soonest mended”–is this like going along to get along?–, and “go F#$K yourself!” autonomy.

  2. nadbugs says:

    Ain’t that the truth, about so many relationships! Shall we say we’re aiming to grow out of them, and toward that sweet spot of the middle way, that balance as you say?

    Now as for that “going along to get along” formulation — boy, doesn’t that leave a bad taste. How about another bromide I don’t much like either, but as amended might work — “if you can’t say something nice, button it, so’s not to need to do a whole lot of repair-work later; then find somebody else who’s empathetic & say it to them instead”?

    But that’s the trouble with bromides. They’re so succinct!

    Nothing un-succinct, tho, about “go F#%K yourself! autonomy.” Says a mouthful in four words! We’re having fun now!

  3. Pingback: The Turning Of The Season | catself

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