Rinsed Clean
I arrive at the beach for my run still feeling guilty about leaving Chinook at home. The weight of her perceived sorrow is one step behind me; she is a dog so she will get over it. In fact she may be happily sleeping this very moment.
If only forgetting were that easy. New questions skip through my bloodstream like a pebble on still water. Do we really “get over” wrongs that have been done to us? How do we know we are “healed”? The diameter of the rings created by the stone grows wider in my blood lake. I can almost see the ripple appear beneath my skin. Maybe “healed” isn’t the objective. What if it is “healing,” –as in ongoing, like the ocean in a constant ebb and flow? The rolling of the waves begins to settle over me, giving way to a more lucid view of the past that has shaped me. It is as if introspection serves as a ceremonial ablution and through that ritual the chokehold of shame is rinsed clean and makes room for me to see that I am not a victim. I am a survivor, but there’s more. I need to thrive, share, prevent. I can no longer stay quiet in this world, I have a voice and I feel it reverberate off my internal walls, making its slow climb upward until its melody can be heard all around.
(this is an excerpt from my Memoir, Tornado Warning)
If only forgetting were that easy. New questions skip through my bloodstream like a pebble on still water. Do we really “get over” wrongs that have been done to us? How do we know we are “healed”? The diameter of the rings created by the stone grows wider in my blood lake. I can almost see the ripple appear beneath my skin. Maybe “healed” isn’t the objective. What if it is “healing,” –as in ongoing, like the ocean in a constant ebb and flow? The rolling of the waves begins to settle over me, giving way to a more lucid view of the past that has shaped me. It is as if introspection serves as a ceremonial ablution and through that ritual the chokehold of shame is rinsed clean and makes room for me to see that I am not a victim. I am a survivor, but there’s more. I need to thrive, share, prevent. I can no longer stay quiet in this world, I have a voice and I feel it reverberate off my internal walls, making its slow climb upward until its melody can be heard all around.
(this is an excerpt from my Memoir, Tornado Warning)
Comment
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Comment by Whitney Peckman on October 19, 2010 at 10:40am -
That's exciting and I'll look fwd to reading Tornado Warning.
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Comment by Elin Stebbins Waldal on October 19, 2010 at 8:49am -
Thank you for both taking the time to read and comment on my excerpt Whitney. What you shared is truly just as I would hope the reader to feel and your articulation of this back to me quite literally made my morning!
I am independently publishing Tornado Warning, the publication date is slated for 2/1/11, and that is when it will be available in book stores and on Amazon via distribution. That being said, I will have books available mid-November through my website www.elinstebbinswaldal.com. The MS was sent to the printer and we just approved the blue lines yesterday so this is a very exciting time. Thanks again Whitney hope you have a wonderful day.
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Comment by Whitney Peckman on October 19, 2010 at 4:36am
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Conceptualizing healing process as the action of the wave seems nearly perfect to me. That both the pain and the healing process can overwhelm, wash over and eventually buoy you up is so powerful. The wave "reverberating off my internal walls", then gradually pushing the sea shell of your pain to the surface, part of you empty and emptied, part of you beautiful and valued - you've written such a gorgeous metaphor. Is the memoir published? I'd like to read it.
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