Today, I remembered that once again I forgot all about Imbolc - and it's the most positive day of the year! When the light comes back!! Celebrate!!!
Instead, I gathered my wits and my miserable little bits of energy in a tight bundle and took the train down the magic river valley, all grey nothingness with the odd snow covered north-facing slope. In a feeble attempt to limit exposure to yet another load of infectious agents I opted for first class. No, that's an outright lie, because when I booked the ticket online, weeks ago, I fell for the upgrade spiel and clicked on the magic button, maybe secretly guided by some deeper knowledge of this prolonged bronchitis encounter, who knows.
Well, first class with all its legroom, fancy antimacassars and free coffee is boring and very very silent. Surrounded by blasé people who probably think that eye contact is spreading diseases I occasionally had to fight the urge to unplug my headphones and share this amazing podcast. Just to prove that I was not listening to some rubbishy pop or whatever they all thought I was doing. It almost felt as if my mother sat across from me. Almost. Actually, she would have enjoyed that podcast.
My lovely doctor was ill today, so I was seen by her boss who is an eminent authority on autoimmune vasculitis in this neck of the woods. Thanks to my lowly statutory health insurance status I usually never come near her. Which is just as well. She greeted me with Do you always have such dark rings under your eyes? My mother would have walked right out of the room, but I stayed, obviously, and got the full treatment incl. throat and nose swabs (yes, they do hurt).
I must have looked a fright after that because the taxi driver offered me a lozenge and when I asked whether he had seen any sunlight, he turned of the main road, switched off the meter and showed me the view over the hills with a tiny bit of sun hiding behind the clouds. Then he told me all about hockey and how he used to play it when he was a boy in Pakistan and how people foolishly think cricket is superior. I almost asked him to come back with me to my first class compartment, we would have a great conversation.
Once again, I am waiting for results while pretending to enjoy my fabulous life. No, no, seriously: spring is on its way, all will be well.
Thanks for the Luka Bloom! More light is here and yes, spring will indeed come round again. Thinking of you and wishing you well!ReplyDelete
Life is always a little more fabulous in the telling and the remembering. Feel better. Spring is on it's way.ReplyDelete
And that taxi driver is what I think of as an angel.ReplyDelete
"... Out of the cold, dark winter spaceReplyDelete
We come together, looking for Brigid's grace
We dip our open hands deep into the well
Where our rivers run to, who can tell, who can tell ..."
Had some free time and energy this evening and listened to the podcast you recommended. Quite moving.
I think you will enjoy this:
I thought of your own magic river valley.
Sending love to you, Sabine.