Health and Wellness
After my brain surgery post last week, I was bombarded by family, friends, and clients sharing their tales of health struggles.
Some folks shared their story as a direct response to the post, others shared (as we all do) seeking support during a difficult process, or sharing a triumph of health over illness.
Each of these stories has caused me to pause. Fourteen years has given me quite a lot of perspective on my experience with illness - but I still remember.
I remember that for months after my surgery, I had absolute clarity about what was important in my life - my friends, my family. I saw the fragile humanity in each person I interacted with. I was quick to forgive and slow to anger. I was frequently afraid, and struggled with the reality of mortality - but I was also painfully open to the beauty and joys of every day life.
Though I wish I could have held on to this clarity - life got in the way. Today, the minutia of raising 2 young boys and opening a small business consumes me. I am quick to frustration, slow to find peace. But it comes back to me now and again in brief "ah-ha!" moments where I really get what's important. Unfortunately, it never stays long.
The truth is gang, we all walk this mortal coil. No one gets off the train. But (and this is a really important but) we get to walk it together.
My moments of clarity now-a-days always come while connecting with another person. It doesn't have to be a deep, soul-searching, heart-to-heart moment. Sometimes it's meeting the eyes of a stranger while we both share a silent laugh over the antics of a hilarious child in the grocery aisle. Sometimes its meeting the eyes of the bedraggled mother and sharing a look of mutual understanding.
It happens quite frequently while teaching - hearing someone breathe deeply and let go - I am reminded to let go too. Cheering on a client's progress or laughing with a class as we all struggle to balance - I am brought fully present. I am reminded that being together, laughing together, sharing moments together - that's what it's all about.
We never really know how many moments we'll get. We assume it will be plenty of moments - but perhaps we should assume the opposite. Perhaps we should live this day as if these were the only moments we're going to get. Yogis, meditation and spiritual teachers tell us that this moment - this moment right now - is the only moment that matters, and that we should live this moment fully. Live it as if it were the last moment.
Now, I realize this isn't entirely plausible. Should this be the last moment (zombie apocalypse, impending comet) we'd all run around screaming or something. So, let's take it down a notch or two and just live this day with intention. Let's not miss out on today.
Not to be too Polly-Anna-ish, but let's say our "I love you's" and our "Thank you's" and our "I forgive you's." If we're lucky, we'll get to say them plenty of times, and that's not such a bad thing, right?
Some folks shared their story as a direct response to the post, others shared (as we all do) seeking support during a difficult process, or sharing a triumph of health over illness.
Each of these stories has caused me to pause. Fourteen years has given me quite a lot of perspective on my experience with illness - but I still remember.
I remember that for months after my surgery, I had absolute clarity about what was important in my life - my friends, my family. I saw the fragile humanity in each person I interacted with. I was quick to forgive and slow to anger. I was frequently afraid, and struggled with the reality of mortality - but I was also painfully open to the beauty and joys of every day life.
Though I wish I could have held on to this clarity - life got in the way. Today, the minutia of raising 2 young boys and opening a small business consumes me. I am quick to frustration, slow to find peace. But it comes back to me now and again in brief "ah-ha!" moments where I really get what's important. Unfortunately, it never stays long.
The truth is gang, we all walk this mortal coil. No one gets off the train. But (and this is a really important but) we get to walk it together.
My moments of clarity now-a-days always come while connecting with another person. It doesn't have to be a deep, soul-searching, heart-to-heart moment. Sometimes it's meeting the eyes of a stranger while we both share a silent laugh over the antics of a hilarious child in the grocery aisle. Sometimes its meeting the eyes of the bedraggled mother and sharing a look of mutual understanding.
It happens quite frequently while teaching - hearing someone breathe deeply and let go - I am reminded to let go too. Cheering on a client's progress or laughing with a class as we all struggle to balance - I am brought fully present. I am reminded that being together, laughing together, sharing moments together - that's what it's all about.
We never really know how many moments we'll get. We assume it will be plenty of moments - but perhaps we should assume the opposite. Perhaps we should live this day as if these were the only moments we're going to get. Yogis, meditation and spiritual teachers tell us that this moment - this moment right now - is the only moment that matters, and that we should live this moment fully. Live it as if it were the last moment.
Now, I realize this isn't entirely plausible. Should this be the last moment (zombie apocalypse, impending comet) we'd all run around screaming or something. So, let's take it down a notch or two and just live this day with intention. Let's not miss out on today.
Not to be too Polly-Anna-ish, but let's say our "I love you's" and our "Thank you's" and our "I forgive you's." If we're lucky, we'll get to say them plenty of times, and that's not such a bad thing, right?
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