literature

Elphabas Fish 2 -- Green

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Elphaba’s Fish



Pain. Offensive, irritating, inconvenient physical pain. This “Elphaba’s Fish” is another of my visualization meditations, for use during times of physical pain. While for others it might be back pain, joint pain, or the chronic pain of an illness, mine is usually in the form of headaches. Migraines, tension headaches, or sinus headaches, to be precise.

Going through the first “Elphaba’s Fish” (“blue fish”) helps to calm the body down, lower blood pressure, and fight the body’s natural panic response to pain. The panic response sharpens pain and makes it more difficult to overcome.

Remember, the key to making visualization meditation work is to use meticulous detail. Modify this to work for you; it’s just the way I do it. However, make sure to take in every detail via every sense. What do things smell like? Taste like? Look like (textures, colors, resemblances)? What sounds are in the foreground? Background? What do you feel? Take the time to make your visualization as real as possible.

Green

The walk seems to take forever. My steps on the snow-dusted sidewalk swerve slightly, noticeable only to me. With each stride, my pain-induced nausea burbles like a toxic brook. A few blocks ago, taking a deep cleansing breath seemed like a good idea. Just goes to show not everything that sounds like a good idea at the time really is...

I want to turn around and go home. I want to curl up under blankets, place my aching head carefully on a pillow in a way that will not permit it much movement, and have a nice, long Socratic dialogue with my nausea. I want peace. I want drugs. I want a self-powered garotte.

I focus my thoughts on moving my feet. Away from the pain in my head, the roil in my stomach, and the rather creepy thud of my heart. Feet moving forward, to the progress of the house.

My breathing slows, and with that the nausea abates slightly. I look up and find myself at the walkway of the house. It bears a striking resemblance to the mansion Jack Nicholson purchases in “The Witches of Eastwick”, complete with faint candlelight in the windows and a short set of wide stairs to the main door. In deference to my head, I ignore the doorbell and the heavy brass door knock and merely splay my fingers on the solid wooden surface. It opens in silence, and I take myself in from the cold.

The butler, who bears a striking resemblance to Lurch (without the makeup or funky attire), gently removes my cloak. For the briefest moment, my nausea flares at the change in temperature and I feel his hand on the back of my neck. The contact steadies me slightly, and I just stand there for a short while, breathing. Oddly there seems to be no sound in the entryway, and once my stomach settles I proceed to the end of it and turn left.

A large room greets me. Carpet of mixed creamy ivory and beige spills into the room from the doorway, showing here and there from between cushions of varying sizes and shapes. My right hand dials down the overhead lights and those of the other fishtanks until I can just make out a path to cushions in front of one.

Green. Varying shades of green rocks at the bottom of the tank, from the deepest forest greens to creamy sea greens. Mossy mock-castles with openings for the energetic fish. Gently waving plants. A green light above the tank, casting veridian light upon the water.

I gently sit down on a huge round “landing pad” cushion, about six feet in diameter, and pull an odd square cushion into my arms. My hands stretch around it, and my chin rests on top of it. The relaxed posture makes my stomach silent for a second at the unexpected kindness, and my breath comes out in a short puff.

Multihued fish in a sea of green. Do fish feel pain? Doubtlessly, to my way of thinking. What do they do about it? It would seem that they swim. They move continually, letting water gently wipe away the energy of discomfort from their scales, letting the cool liquid ease the heat of pain and carry it away on the current. These thoughts slide through my mind as my limbs absently settle themselves, relaxing fractionally in degrees. Soon, my legs are crossed less firmly than their former awkward half-lotus and my arms grip the square cushion less assertively. My lips even smile at the brief thought it was lucky I hadn’t grabbed a stuffed animal, instead. Poor thing would be gasping for air by now...

The throb in my skull flares, and my mind rides the play of the green light on the water. Skewed squares and near-starbursts show in the liquid, dancing on the moving fish. I follow one in particular until it passes over a Kentucky green waving waterplant, and my body mirrors its slight sway for a long while. As the bubbles in the water rise to the surface, I feel the tension in my shoulders and chest rise to depart with each exhaled breath. The percussion of my heartbeat eases in intensity, and the ache in my head relents noticeably. This takes time, and my arms and legs relax further.

I stretch and reach for a thick cylindrical cushion, placing it behind my back. The room has warmed up slightly, and it permeates my bones. Pain takes its toll, and the coin required to ransom healing is fatigue. My head feels just a touch froggy and slow, but the pain has receded. Were I to jump up at that moment and assume myself recovered, it would return with a vengeance to mock my ignorance. No, truly shaking off pain means paying the ransom and healing the auxillary damage.

At the moment, though, that doesn’t feel like such a bad thing. Warm and boneless, I observe the fish as they dart in and out of the mossy green castle. In their small environment, they make each round of hide-and-seek look altogether entertaining. Taking a cue from their behavior, I alternate between slow stretches to release residual pain energy from my limbs, wiggling to settle into my cushion, and simply gazing at the fish as they move about.

Green. Between the blue of serene peace and the yellow of clarity, between calm balance and accurate thought. The pain will end, I will indeed feel better, and I can carry this calm with me for as long as I attempt to remember it. I accept a blanket from Lurch and let myself doze until my body decides it is sated and refreshed. In the dark, on an empty street, I smile to myself. Rejuvenated, I walk home.


















December 29th, 2002
Second of eight in a series.
I strongly recommend you read the first in the series, a short piece which provides some helpful background as to the purpose and use of these. You may find the first at:

[link]

For more oddball material, look at my "Philosophy of Minutiae" devpack.
© 2002 - 2024 elphabastevens
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