Turning to wood

This morning I woke to my alarm, I have been turning it off for the last month and a half. It felt nice to be up and watch the sun break the cloud cover.

Today I was wondering why it is that the animals help me so much, why I learn so much just being in their presence. I think it is because I can not help but feel when I am around them. Actually I think there are many reasons, this is just one of them.

I remember writing a poem after my father died; in the poem I mentioned the constant laying of hands by others and feeling as if I were made out of wood.

I am not sure why the poem popped in my head, I lost it long ago. I found myself thinking back to other "tidal wave changes" and realized that for as long as I can remember turning to wood was the way I had always processed the "tidal wave changes". If I were to describe what it felt like to turn to wood I'd have to say it's like going mostly numb.

Funny there was also a poem about branches of a tree turning into each other which is probably the second best way to describe turning to wood. Folding into oneself to process whatever change was afoot.

I wonder why I lost those poems?

I suppose if I were to guess that I'd say that the unknown outcome scares me in those situations and the only way I can process the why's and what now's safely is to do it alone. God forbid there be judgement.

Perhaps that's why I lost those poems!

It's pretty easy to keep people in the dark about the whole thing too. I'm pretty quiet about how I feel normally so when I dive into myself to figure out what the hell happened very few really notice. I'd bet 75% of the people that know me have no idea that over the last two years I have spent a good year inside my head. Goodness I'd say less than 50% know that through the bad years with Joshua I was in my head far more than I was out.

I can't do that with the animals. It's such an honest relationship, there is no pretense, there is no guile; it is the very absence of judgement to cry into a horses mane.

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