Not even a third of the way through these 31 days, and I am wondering about the wisdom of choosing to write about Halia every day for a whole month. It can be painful and raw. I am exposing some very tender places that are usually hidden away. It is as if I am taking off a bandage bit by bit to allow air and light to heal the parts of the wound that were not served by the bandage. My grief was safe and cared for under the bandage, and it is safe and cared for without the bandage but only if I pay it careful attention. And today, I can tell that I need to let things be for a day, to wait before peeling off a little more of that bandage. I need to pause and take comfort.
I haven't played the piano much since my younger son came along, but I found myself at the piano after dinner this evening for the second time this week. The piano saw me through another time of sorrow in my life, and today it proved again why it is such a wonderful source of solace. I can bang on it when I'm feeling angry, I can play a sweet melody to match a more reflective mood, and even more powerfully, I can let the splendor of the music carry me away. Tonight I returned to an exquisite piece by Chopin that holds both beauty and strife. I totally butchered it since I'm so out of practice, but even so, the music carried me to a new place. It did not remove my sadness but it reminded me that there is plenty of space for my grief within the great umbrella of human emotion and creativity.
Day 10 of 31, 6 Cheshavan 5774