Bringing Light and Clarity

I’ve not been well.  Was away to see family last week, went around some big shops, obv., came back with what I suspect is some crony of covid, maybe Cicada, as those were the symptoms.  Have been in bed sleeping or drinking loads of water to try to make the sore throat go away.  I don’t want to be one of those people who say ‘I’m sixty-five you know’, but just this once, I’m sixty-five you know. One of the many things this means is that when you’re ill, you take care of it.  There isn’t a choice, when standing up feels like being on a boat on the Atlantic in a dizzying storm, and your dreams are about throwing offerings into the jaws of the waves to appease them.  You have to surrender, descend into the underworld, allow the Nigredo, dissolve into the fatigue, not the fear.  The fear of dying alone.  Mostly because of the shipwreck of empty boxes in the spare room that have been kept so I can sell things and package them in the manner of one who ‘re-uses’ and saves the planet.  Yup, those are my seeds of wisdom from the underworld.  All the embarrassing DIY things I’ve not done that someone breaking into my house to find my poor, emaciated corpse would see.  How have I been living like this?  There is a roller blind in the kitchen, still in the box, leaning against the wall like furniture.  We are about to celebrate our five year anniversary (I hope I’m exaggerating, but if I am, it’s not by much).  If I die alone of a crony of covid, I want a nicely finished house so that people will say, ‘What a shame, but didn’t she live well’.  Not, ‘What a mad old bat’.

Cicada

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nigredo