Of Woundedness and Healing

FOG HORNS
by David Mason

The loneliest days,
damp and indistinct,
sea and land a haze.

And purple fog horns
blossomed over tides -
bruises being born

in silence, so slow,
so out there, around,
above and below.

In such hurts of sound
the known world became
neither flat nor round.

The steaming teapot
was all we fathomed
of is and is not.

The hours were hallways
with doors at the ends
opened into days

fading into night
and the scattering
particles of light.

Nothing was done then.
Nothing was ever
done. Then it was done.

In the midst of this bitter and exhausting national election season, a recent surgery, and in the wake of the completion of a new novel, I have had time to think at some depth on the meaning of woundedness. What healing is, and is not.

I, like most of us, exist in my mind and forget I dwell in my body. And so it is often hard to appreciate the synergy of the two halves of personal wholeness. That is, until the body requires the full attention of the mind to navigate its woes and needs. Only then do we understand the sustaining embrace of this partner in life, the body. Then does the mind release its clawing tendencies toward imagined futures and dwell in the present need and nourish the physical self. At times the body does not heal but remembers and holds the mind in its scars. When the mind has a breakthrough moment and achieves a major accomplishment, when our labors see us through, the body resonates.

But when strife and political discord, acute physical woundedness, and achievement and exhaustion of the mind collide, should we not ask the question, What is the nature of healing? When stasis hits the red zone, our power depleted, do we know what to do? Is healing made of states of compartmentalized well being, or is it only holistic? Can we heal the self in one area and continue to suffer in another?

We generally do limp along in some degree of dependence on a spare tire. But what struck me deeply recently is that very little of this healing work is intentional and it should be. We do seem to instinctively seek well being. But in general, we tend to physical health as needed. To give strength and virility to our mental efforts. When the world around us becomes actively oppressive and depressive, do we step away and disengage as necessary when conflicts grow too disturbing or fraught with aggression to assimilate? Do we choose peace of mind for the benefit of the entire self?

Post-operatively, it was a complete surprise to discover the degree to which I have taken my daily good health for granted. How body wellness is the foundation of so much else. Before the surgery, and shortly after, I was driving hard toward completion of the draft of a new novel. Body and mind draining the core at the same time. I learned that a wounded body derails a sharp mind. Important lesson. And in the midst of this, the national political dialogue became untenable and disturbing.

I had no choice but to embrace woundedness. I rested from the manuscript. I turned off the news and stepped away from media broadcasts. I focused on body healing. And then I returned to work.

As the poet concludes, Nothing was ever done. And then it was done.