A sweet friend sent me this picture this morning in a private Facebook message:
This is from the book by Ana T. Forrest entitled Fierce Medicine: Breakthrough Practices to Heal the Body and Ignite the Spirit.
This particular section, as you can see, focuses on grief and the ways that we do – and, more importantly, do not – move through it. I’ll leave it up to you to zoom in and read, if you’d like, what Ms. Forrest says. I recommend that you do – I’ve already ordered the book from my local bookstore but what struck me on the very deepest level is the part where my friend has noted in the margins “Interesting” and underlined the phrase the “well of sorrow.” As you can read above, “In acupuncture, the area from the nipples to the collarbone is called the well of sorrow.”
I often hear water-related terms used to describe grief: drowning our sorrows; keeping our head above water; crying an ocean full of tears. I’ve experienced these terms. I’ve used them too, but none of them have taken my breath away as the mental image of “the well of sorrow” did this morning. The first few days (maybe even weeks – I didn’t have any concept of time at that time), my heart literally, physically hurt. “Heartache” was absolutely 100% accurate. I couldn’t even take a deep breath, and at one point, I called my primary care provider and asked for some sort of medicine for what I could only describe as “heartburn multiplied by infinity”. I wasn’t sleeping – well, I was sleeping, but I wasn’t resting. I tossed and turned, and I had the most gut-wrenching dreams – dreams from which I’d awaken and find my pillow soaked with tears. My throat was perpetually dry, and my chest felt as if it had two tons of bricks sitting on top of it. “The well of sorrow” took my breath away this morning because I remember so clearly when it took it away from me on December 13th.
Ana Forrest notes that emotions need to be in motion. Maybe that’s why the water references resonate with me. I like water that moves – rivers as opposed to lakes, the rhythm of the ocean’s waves, a babbling brook, a spectacular waterfall, and yes, even a well of sorrow. I guess I’ll continue to visist the well, draw up my cup, and drink from it when I’m thirsty. And maybe one day, it won’t have such a bitter taste.
thoughtswhileonthejourney 