So,
as those of you who are regulars know, I’ve been unable to shake this cold I came
down with about a month ago. I’ve been coming in here on Tuesday evenings with
my hot lemon water and my tissues, trying not to disturb meditation with my
coughing. I strung it along, using the neti pot and ignoring everything until
Saturday morning when I awakened with fever. I got to the doctor’s office and
on the intake the nurse asked me if I had any mucus! By that time I’d let the
thing go to the point where everything seemed involved: sinuses, ears, throat,
lungs. Where didn’t I have mucus?
I
think I used to be pretty good at being sick, it gave me a chance to hide from
the world and my fears. Now, not so much. I want to feel well all the time, to
be out walking, to be seeing clients, and focus on what I hear the angels
saying. Instead, as I couldn’t sleep, up coughing, feverish and worn out, my
fears preyed upon my mind, causing me to question my work, my goals, my ability
to make a living, what I have to offer, just everything.
Once
I got to the doctor, got the medicine I needed, got to bed, I rested. That was
what I needed; rest and loving support and I received both. By Saturday
evening, I was feeling physically, spiritually, and emotionally better. And by
the next day, this talk was in my mind, along with some clear action I need to
take regarding my work.
What
changed? I asked for help. I asked people who love me to help me. And I asked
my spiritual companions for clear and direct help. By reaching out, I found
myself connected. When I am sick, tired, and/or afraid, I often find myself feeling
alone. I felt that way on Saturday morning – so very alone and my mind began to
take a negative spiral, focusing on what is lacking rather than the abundance I
have.
For
me, these things often go together. Fear/fatigue/illness leads me down that
path of isolation. And isolation often feeds itself. I begin, I head down the
rabbit hole, and then I feed it. At times this feeling of self-pity, of
sadness, of loneliness is one of those old familiar feelings that I can
actually take comfort in, I kind of like it, I recognize it, I can work, in the
worst way, with it. The further I go, the further I go and it is a perpetual
downward spiral until I decide to stop.
My
spiritual practice has given me some ability now to observe what I am doing,
observe the pattern I form, observe the spiral. I’ve learned that I need to
reach out and connect with someone who loves me. That is what I did on Saturday
and it helped me focus on what I needed to do that day. Then, everything looked
different to me that day.
This
pattern of connection/disconnection can create a lot of ups and downs in our
days. For me, the great disconnectors are fear and judgment. When I am in fear,
I can isolate, I imagine things that aren’t real, that feed the fear and
further isolate me. That’s what happened to me on Saturday morning.
Judgment,
that feeling of being superior and the need to be right, is really driven by
fear but feels a bit different. It cuts me off from others because I’ve decided
something about another and that judgment sets me apart, better than, in the
right. I find this rearing its head most often when I’m driving. Oooo, I am
quick to judge when in the driver’s seat! A few nights ago, I was headed out somewhere
when someone began tailgating me. I really hate this. My story line goes: “you
don’t have time to stop if I need to brake. You clearly don’t understand how
much time it takes to stop, you don’t get the basic physics involved, and you
must be stupid.” I’m afraid I’ll get hit but more than that, I feel I have no
control over the situation. This feeling that I need or want to control a
situation is often at the center of my judgmental mind.
Back
to my tailgater—the lane split into two lanes as we approached a light. I
pulled up in the right lane, preparing to make a right turn. My tailgating
friend pulled up in the left lane beside me. I looked over and was surprised to
see a young woman at the wheel of the car. She glanced over at me and I mouthed
to her, “You follow too closely.” She responded with an obscene gesture. I blew
her a kiss in kindness and made my right turn.
She
just looked so young and vulnerable and angry, sitting there and I thought, “She
really doesn’t have any idea what she’s doing.” Her youth and her vulnerability
really touched me, whether the mother in me or the young and very confused
woman I once was, I don’t know. But when I glanced at her, I saw a person, not
a story line.
The
truth is we’re all afraid. We’re afraid for ourselves and for our children and
for our neighbors and for our homes and our pets. We feel vulnerable and
confused and afraid. So we pull back or we lash out.
No
matter how hard I try, I have these humbling, terrifying moments. Sometimes
they strip me bare, I feel so exposed. Sometimes, they bring me some clarity.
They always give me the opportunity to let people I love in, or let a young
tailgater in. They give me the opportunity to see my vulnerable humanity or to
see the tender humanity of another. And then I receive the opportunity to hold
myself gently. Or to offer a small gesture of love to a stranger.
This
takes practice (that’s why we call it “practice”)! It takes awareness. It takes
the hard work of spiritual discipline. But the rewards are limitless. They are
acceptance, peace, and love. And I always want more of that.
© 2015 Janet Tuck
