If we can’t carry our trauma and act normal, if we have a breakdown or lose our jobs/homes/children, there is something wrong with us. What we need is a culture where the common experience of trauma leads to a normalization of healing. Being able to say: I have good reasons to be scared of the dark, of raised voices, of being swallowed up by love, of being alone. And being able to offer each other: “I know a healer for you.” “I’ll hold your hand in the dark.” “Let’s begin a meditation practice.” “Perhaps talk therapy is not enough.” We should celebrate love in our community as a measure of healing. The expectation should be: I know we are all in need of healing, so how are we doing our healing work?
Ursula K. Le Guin
“All around us is the skin,
helping keep our bodies in.”
I’ve known that poem sixty years.
There’s more to it than first appears.
If we were skinless, like a cloud,
would we not mingle with the crowd?
Would not our little bodies be
more boundless even than the sea,
and gaseous as the atmosphere?
Would we be there as well as here?
Would I be you, and you be me,
and both of us mere entropy?
The two it takes to tango need
to be discrete, not just discreet.
The skin, however, does have holes
for letting in and out our souls,
our food, and such necessities.
It is designed to serve and please.
It washes well, but with the years
gets wrinkles, little spots and smears,
and somehow doesn’t seem to fit
as seamlessly as once as it did.
But still it is my nomad’s tent,
my shelter, my integument,
the outside of myself, this thin,
seemingly superficial skin,
that hems me neatly all about,
keeping foreign bodies out,
and keeping me, a while yet, in.
— Ursula K. Le Guin
To be alive:
not just the carcass
But the spark.
That's crudely put, but…
If we're not supposed to dance,
Why all this music?
From Concerning the Book That Is the Body Of the Beloved (Copper Canyon Press, 2005).