Wabi Sabi

Read the story of Wabi Sabi to my kids the other day.  I found myself in tears.  Not sure why or how it happened.  I don’t really shed too many tears these days.  I’ve heard that certain medications can do that to you.  In some ways, I miss it.  I miss the emotional release I feel afterwards.  I imagine all the feelings like vines twisted up, gripping my insides with their thorns digging into the meaty parts.

I forgot how to relax.  In therapy, they talk about mindfulness.  I never practiced it before.  My therapist led me through it, and I instantly felt a rush of intense emotions.  Tears flooded my eyes and rolled down my cheeks.

I used to use a visual image that I’d made up in my mind.  Water crashing on the beach.   I was never there, so it was mostly only visual.  But when I sat in her office that day, she walked  me through an image that is so vivid in my mind it’s like I can reach out and wrap my fingers around it and balance it in my open palms:

I’m camping with my sister.  Everyone has gone to sleep and I lay awake in my tent.  I quietly unzip my tent and open it to the dark forest.  Everything is alive with sound.  I tiptoe past her tent and walk over to the rushing river, furiously pushing jagged rocks for years until they are nothing but smooth stones.  I put my feet in the water, and let the water run over it.  I sit down on the edge and just sit.  For a moment, I feel human.


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