Stillness

There is a stillness in the desert that I have never been comfortable with until now.  One of the first things I noticed when I moved here from Wisconsin was the lack of wind.  I remember the first time Sophie and I had moved back and a burst of wind hit her and she looked at me as if to say,  "what the heck was that..."  This lack of movement of air has always made me uneasy.  The desert landscape itself I could not see the beauty; the landscape and I had nothing in common.  It was still and I was not.

I want to be clear to those that are reading that living with Chronic Fatigue in it's chronic state does not have this peaceful stillness that corresponds with that easy going name - it is a body in chaos with no plan of action to follow.  However, the treatments I am getting are very different from mainstream medicine and they move this illness from the chronic to an acute state.  The end goal being your body wakes up and begins to act alive again.  This trip, in between the low grade fever, chills, exhaustion and detoxing reactions I have found this sense of calm that I have not experienced in a very very long time, if ever.

I have practiced meditation and yoga on and off throughout my life and it has served me as well as it could.  It is always immensely frustrating to hear people tell you to mind over matter this illness, they haven't a clue, and those of us that do just give that knowing smile.  This intense treatment protocol I am on flips this illness upside down and begins to shift one's body towards a different path.  This new "path is not paved, but is made of cobblestone some of it thousands of years old and its destination is still traveled on"tks with hopes of new beginnings.

This stillness is as unconscious as the chaos.  I feel it deep in my bones,  it's a stillness my body would not give me no matter how hard my mind would try.  I don't know how long this will last and I can only hope that my cells and immune system have gotten the memo that its time to step up to the plate and carry this home.  But for now, all I do is appreciate the quiet when it comes; because if it is coming once there is no reason it won't come again and stick around for awhile.

Hope is a waking dream...Aristotle

Our bodies are a complete mystery on many levels and sometimes the slightest push can have this amazing cascade of events to your advantage or disadvantage.  I can only hope that the door has opened for me and it's my turn to get to the other side of this journey stronger and more compassionate then when it began.  I see hope, I feel hope and if tomorrow comes and knocks me to the ground I will get back up again...isn't that what we all do...we just keep getting up again and again.