Remembering

As I seek to find the peace within myself, I encounter many obstacles.  One of the most persistent is that it doesn't seem like I am really "doing" anything.   I suppose that what that I really mean is that I'm not earning any money, or being otherwise visibly productive, this being the outcome of two bouts of breast cancer with complications, and then a diagnosis of multiple sclerosis.

I don't really have an answer, anymore, to the question "what do you do?".  I  have a hard enough time with ""how are you?".

For many years, the rhythm of my life took place around my work as a bodyworker. I had the good fortune  of doing something that I loved, I was the master of my time,, and my life felt more congruent than ever before.  Even though I worked from home, work involved people, so  I never felt isolated.

I had always longed for work that would benefit others, as well as pay my bills, so, for many years, while my body was strong, I derived deep satisfaction from this part of my life.

When my health made this no longer possible, the loss was many faceted.  My work was satisfying, it gave me independence, and I never stopped being amazed at the healing power of touch.  But something else had became obvious to me - I was a wounded healer - I took care of the bodies of others, often, at the expense of my own.

When this manifested as actual illnesses, it felt as if my emotional wounds had become visible.  After I had my mastectomies "for real" (when the implants had to come out because of multiple infections), this felt literally to be true.

I don't mean to not say that touching others caused my exhaustion (or my illnesses), but I can see now that it is possible to be more discerning about where, and how, we share this energy with each other. I didn't get it then, that, with my longing to be adored by others, I was giving away the store of my body.

Today, I still have gifts.  The loss of my body's strength, at first, felt like the worst thing I could imagine.  But, I can still thank the Universe, God, the Force, whatever, for my ability to express myself with words, and I can cultivate that ability, knowing how I have been healed by the words of others many times.  But first, I have to remember.  As I re-read this paragraph I realize how constant the act of remembering must be.

I

As my MS is finding me home more than ever, I have begun to write and share what I write with others.  E-mails to friends were the seeds of this effort.  And since the words of others have brought me so much comfort, I ask that the Angel of Words be with me here, so that my words might do the same for someone who needs to hear them.  MS opens a lot of windows, even as it closes many doors, and the pain it causes is mitigated somewhat by its insistence that you be slow and mindful in every step of your life.  For a long time practicing yogi, this is a desirable state.  And so this can be seen as a gift.

May I be safe

May I be peaceful

May I be kind to myself

May I accept myself as I am

May I accept my life as it is.

The above was presented as a meditation for self compassion for people with MS, and can be done while sitting or lying comfortably, with one or both hands at the heart.   MS demands a number of things from its hosts, which can be summed up as the need to become slow and mindful.  Because, if you're not slow and mindful, you might fall down and get hurt, and the collateral damage can get scary.  

But the world is very fast, and most of us here in the slow lane, be it due to aging or failing health, are aware of an effort to keep up.  With what?

I recently received an e-mail from a friend who is 80 years old and very wise, and the gist of what she said was that we have forgotten what love really is, and that, in so doing, we are capable of crucifying ourselves on a daily basis.  In a way, this has been the drumbeat of humanity, and we accept it as our lot, but says who?  There is a line in a Leonard Cohen song that says: "You can strike up the march, there is no drum".  It is an act of courage to be here, an act of courage to remove the nails from the palms of your hands.  And what about the wounds?  What about those other people who are going so much faster?

Previously, for me, self compassion meant consciously saying NO to the harsh, critical voice with which I always spoke to myself.   This was a big first step: recognizing that voice for what it was, (an opinion, and a mean and biased one, at that).   It is not the voice of truth, and it is most certainly not the voice of love.  I believe that the obedience to that voice that was a factor in the development of my MS - it quite literally fried my nerves.

This recognition (of the cruelty of that inner voice) helped for a while, but it was a little vague, and while it restrained me from my habitual mean thinking, there was a silence to be filled.  Sometimes Om Namah Shivaya was enough - saying the name of the god Shiva, the destroyer - asking for the removal of obstacles within me.  This is my mantra, Om Namah Shivaya, and sometimes I have to shout it out at the top of my mind because everything else gets so loud and chaotic.

 We all are so starved for compassion, it's not just me and people with MS.   In a talk on self compassion the   the presenter broke down the actual process of self compassion, which consists of three parts: 1. suspending self-anger, interrupting the habitual thought flow (usually some form of judgment)  long enough for something else to enter in.  Only then can we have a different experience from the one we've been used to, which allows the practice of loving kindness toward oneself to come into being;  2. recognizing the common humanity in our experience.  I like to imagine how I would speak to someone who is not me, but who is in a similar situation. I would never be so scathing.  If everyone is deserving of compassion, if all of humanity is limited and fragile, then so am I.   I am not the exception to these truths, and am therefore deserving of compassion; and 3. mindfulness, which is nonjudgemental  and clear seeing of what is happening.  This is required on what may as well be a constant basis.

And so I offer loving kindness to myself, because today feels hard and I am in it and it is what I would offer another, (I hope).  

Still, am I withholding comfort from myself when a friend texts later on and asks if I feel like company?  Tonight I say no, because I've had a hard time of things today and I don't feel like putting my best face forward.  I'm tired and I need quiet.  

Maybe tuning out is the biggest fault of humans - we are given a brain with which to think, and then we turn it against ourselves or tune it out.  We spend so much energy trying to be what is expected, and there is no drum.  What have I been hearing?