Today is New Year's Day, 2019. I am inspired to write, just a few words. Christmas this year was perhaps the most honest that I've ever had. What a funny thing.
Dan and his new dog Frankie, and I, were together this year for Christmas. At one point during Christmas day I was preparing the remedy Ignatia - Ignatia is an excellent remedy for grief - "preparing" involves putting drops of liquid potency Ignatia into a bottle containing lactose pellets, then rotating the bottle to make sure that most every pellet is touched by the liquid potency.
Sometimes when I do this, I pour the pellets out of the bottle, into a paper filter, so they can dry. During that process, pellets can spill, and I pick them up to discard them. Sometimes too, my skin absorbs some of the liquid potency, or I inhale the liquid potency. No matter, for a good part of Christmas Day I was very very sad, and cried and cried, without connecting my crying to the making of my Ignatia.
But really, the crying seemed so right; so many reasons to cry, so much suffering in the world, I missed my sons - so many sad things to cry about. Christmas Day really brings things up to the surface for me: this time I didn't contain or channel them.
Maybe it wasn't the Ignatia that induced the crying, but that evening I felt a wave of relief, like I'd been cleaned out.