I continue reading the Kathryn Geurts study of the Anlo-Ewe-speaking people in southeastern Ghana. When the children are born, they are ritually bathed, and their legs and arms are stretched and pressed at the ankles and knees. The idea is that flexibility in the body is flexibility and adaptability in life. It’s a way of living imprinted on the newborn child in the presence of the tribe.
Entranced, I sit here moving, massaging, bending, and stretching my elbows and knees. I stir my passage and play with waves. I incubate, hover, and reach.
Fog has blown in like the wind in a fairy tale. I’m reading today at The Hivery from my book, Airing Out the Fairy Tale. I went through the book to choose what might most entice and stimulate, stir the elbows and knees of my audience and me.
The section on the Yaks is a given, as well as the shower scene, so I’m sitting here, both in Nepal and the past, and in my home and the present. My heart reveres companionship shared.
It’s been 61 days since my brother passed. Grief is there but it’s more like a flag waving in the fog, aired in the wind. That’s the feeling today.
Another book has been recommended and I’ll begin reading it later today. The book is, It’s Okay that You’re Not Okay and Meeting Grief in a Culture that Doesn’t Understand by Megan Devine and Mark Nepo. My friend who counsels with hospice feels it’s the best book on grief she’s come across. I look forward to reading it. Meanwhile the fog invites me to swim beneath.