Well, the spiritual impact of disease and healing seems to be the topic of choice. Not just Woman in the World and her bout with appendicitis, but my friend Joan is writing about healing, too. Ok - I'm in!
The connections between illness and spiritual awakening are familiar ones to me. It was a summer spent in the hospital thirteen years ago that launched me on some of the spiritual work I find most valuable now - not because of some big confrontation with death (although there was a bit of that), but because I'd been longing to make that change before the hospital stay but denying myself on the grounds of too little time, too little money. My body blew that argument out of the water, pointing out that there was plenty of time and money to be sick and in pain. Finding the time and money to be happy took on a new meaning after that.
But maybe more important are the profound little changes that illness and healing have brought me. Like the vow I made many years ago in a healing ceremony to caress my body each and every day of my life, viscerally remembering how astoundingly grateful I am to be incarnate. In the beginning, that vow took a lot of attention. Over time it became second nature, something I did easily, casually, reliably.
And then it expanded from there. I began seeing myself in mirrors and acknowledging my reflection in the same way, caressing the image through my glance, loving myself for being myself. It became my own private joke, a wink I shared with myself, an affirmation that continually caught me by surprise and never failed to feed me.
Now these caresses, this intimacy with myself, have become my foundation, my way in the world. Yesterday morning I glanced in the bathroom mirror and felt a thrill, seeing the lover in myself. Today was more about curiosity, glimpsing the way age is changing me, expressing itself through me. Whatever the flavor, each day is welcome. And that, I must say, is a healing many times over.
08 June 2010
07 June 2010
Appendicitis
This may be a "part 1" - appendicitis is, for me, a big topic. That's because - as you might guess - I had it not so very long ago. And it was a very significant experience.
First of all, there's the knowledge that, if it had happened in another time and place, I'd be dead. That's all. I'd just be dead. So what I have now, post-appendicitis, is in a sense a new life. I need not have had it, but I do.
Second, there's the impact of the experience. When I was feeling well enough to stand up and wash myself, I had the rather painful luxury of being able at the same time to look at myself in the mirror. It was like getting a preview of what my body would look like in 5-10 years if I didn't take care of it. It scared the heck out of me.
The combination of those two things was a little like that old movie, It's a Wonderful Life. I got to see two alternate realities, with the opportunity to choose either of them - or something different.
In the Sweet Medicine Sundance healing paradigm, an illness is sometimes referred to as a "knock of spirit." That is, it's our higher self's way of saying, hey, bud, wake up! Is this what you really want to be doing? Appendicitis was like that for me. It's easy to say that at the time something like that happens, but - speaking for myself - the proof of it really comes later. Did I really take the opportunity to change something? Or did I just make a big fuss about how profound it was and go back to exactly what I was doing before?
I was just looking at this a few days ago, and realizing that I had indeed, without really acknowledging it (though certainly intentionally), made some significant changes in my life. They're not really huge - certain things that I used to do with less dedication are not negotiable anymore; and I'm more likely to be guided by my body's needs rather than attempting to silence or distract from them.
The changes are subtle enough that, until I sat down to write to a friend and did some reflection about my life now, I had not known they were in place. I wasn't exactly trying to make them; I simply did.
First of all, there's the knowledge that, if it had happened in another time and place, I'd be dead. That's all. I'd just be dead. So what I have now, post-appendicitis, is in a sense a new life. I need not have had it, but I do.
Second, there's the impact of the experience. When I was feeling well enough to stand up and wash myself, I had the rather painful luxury of being able at the same time to look at myself in the mirror. It was like getting a preview of what my body would look like in 5-10 years if I didn't take care of it. It scared the heck out of me.
The combination of those two things was a little like that old movie, It's a Wonderful Life. I got to see two alternate realities, with the opportunity to choose either of them - or something different.
In the Sweet Medicine Sundance healing paradigm, an illness is sometimes referred to as a "knock of spirit." That is, it's our higher self's way of saying, hey, bud, wake up! Is this what you really want to be doing? Appendicitis was like that for me. It's easy to say that at the time something like that happens, but - speaking for myself - the proof of it really comes later. Did I really take the opportunity to change something? Or did I just make a big fuss about how profound it was and go back to exactly what I was doing before?
I was just looking at this a few days ago, and realizing that I had indeed, without really acknowledging it (though certainly intentionally), made some significant changes in my life. They're not really huge - certain things that I used to do with less dedication are not negotiable anymore; and I'm more likely to be guided by my body's needs rather than attempting to silence or distract from them.
The changes are subtle enough that, until I sat down to write to a friend and did some reflection about my life now, I had not known they were in place. I wasn't exactly trying to make them; I simply did.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)