Body As Metaphor

I'm doing some work with Louise Hay's writing, which is a lot about metaphysical causes of disease. Which means things like thought patterns and beliefs manifesting as disease. Although I'm only partway through her book, I've learned certain things. That any "female problems" are due to a rejection of the feminine. That cancer is a manifestation of deep resentment. And that venereal disease is about sexual guilt.

And sure, it's always good to accept the feminine, release resentment and rinse away sexual guilt. And, not to get all After School Special on you, but I've done a whole schwack of work around sexual trauma already, thanks.

But today, I turned my writer's eye on my body. I began to think about my body as a metaphor.

Bear with me.

My health problems are locating themselves in my reproductive system. The system of procreation, or on a more fundamental level, creation. In other words, my creative centre. An interesting "coincidence" at the time of my most exciting creative output and adventuring.

The problems are located specifically in my cervix. Not my uterus, or creative womb...the place where ideas are fertilized and nurtured. Not the birth canal, which is a kind of conduit. But the cervix. A deeper gateway.

Now, don't get me wrong, I have no effing clue where I'm going with this. I have no brilliant and pithy conclusions for you. All I have is the observation. The question. What is going on at the gateway of my creativity? What is the gateway of my creativity...what does that even mean?

I think there's something about feeling limited or stifled going on. About ideas not getting through. Or translating into something tangible. Which makes some sense because I've been turning my productive attention to things like real estate sales centres. And to taking care of other people – something I didn't have to do in Paris. In Paris, it was all about me. Here, it's all about everyone but me.

So, there's the resentment. The carcinogenic resentment of not nurturing or allowing my creative expression to be realized.

And there's guilt, too. Because I am craving freedom and fighting my current life. A life I share with someone else. Who is not stupid. Who knows I am railing against this sturdy, stable, boring suburban life. Honestly, I feel like I'm cheating on him. Like I'm abusing the trust of the relationship by wanting this freedom. By wanting something different than he has "provided." I think I had craved stability before, but now I crave freedom. Adventure. Romance. Passion. Creative stimulation. New, exciting experiences, not ones I can predict.

Here is something you should know. The last time I manifested cervical problems, I was in my terrible marriage. So there is something about associating relationships with thwarted creativity. Or there's something about choosing relationships which thwart my creativity. The jury's out on which is which.

Because I refuse to believe that the person I chose cannot be a partner in a creative life. But, already, I am letting this other person horn in on this blog post. The metaphor in action. Thinking about someone else again. Putting them first.

My problems are in my creativity. There is resentment. There is anger. There is frustration. So. That is where my work must begin.