Monday, September 08, 2008

8 September 2008

Impossible, appalling morning.

I could not even bear to glance at the work I did the night before. I could not begin.

Utter despair.

Verdi’s Requiem on the radio in the afternoon. I was terrified at first. The Dies Irae frightened me in a way it never has before. And then enraged me: I felt utterly furious at the church for manipulating the very human fear of death for their own ends. To maintain and extend their power over their congregations.

And then the soprano began singing Dona eis requiem and I started to cry like a child. It was so much what I wanted for Susie. Peace, and eternal light.

I still couldn’t get started. I kept forgetting to bring up the notebook I’d jotted down some new dialogue in. And then I was afraid to go and get it. And then I went down, and picked up a pen in an absent minded kind of way and before I’d had time to think about I was sketching a new scene.

And then on the way down to the yoga class I found myself writing down more of it.

And in the yoga class I understood that what I was trying to do was write a scene between a woman and death. After her death.

And the sheer madness of it made me feel better about finding it so difficult. For how can you possibly imagine such a thing? And who would be daft enough to try?

Me, obviously.

The yoga was beautiful. The more I explore my body, the more I understand how terribly it was damaged in those appalling months of Susie’s illness and death. And then afterwards as I slid into illness. And then waited for surgery. And the surgery itself. And being poisoned afterwards...

The teacher has the most beautiful touch: warm and present. We did postures like the Cat and the Bridge, which I thought I knew, but which she presented in an utterly new way. And other I did not. And learnt so much.

So the day redeemed itself: and there’s a weird excitement in feeling I have no idea what tomorrow will bring.


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