I have recently had the pleasure to dive into the work of Joan Anderson, an American author whose books A Walk on the Beach and The Second Journey have truly resonated with me. It is always good to be supported on one’s own journey. Joan’s vulnerability and humanity spoke through the pages, as if she and I were having a conversation. And this conversation was an important one as she disclosed that despite her work, that of encouraging others, especially women, to find room in their lives for themselves, was a message that she personally struggled to live. And in their lies my truth, that despite my ME FIRST teachings, I have lots to learn about ME FIRST.
Like many of us, I am caught up in the flow, forward and backward movement. A self-avowed doing addict, I have trouble at times slowing down and even when I do, I cannot seem to harness my mind. Oh sure there are a few divine moments, when the quiet descends and I find myself in the ebb. I relish those moments and hold on to them greedily, for it is in that ebb space that I see, I know and I am. And then, just as quickly as the ebb appeared I am back in the flow. And I know this is right as well, the ebb and the flow, the movement of the tidal waters around the earth and the tidal waters of our life, is as it needs to be. Nothing is static.
All of this insight falls on the heels of a year of what feels like slumber. One year ago in January 2014, I was diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis, a rather serious, although treatable, auto-immune disease. After month of stiff and sore fingers and toes, blood tests and X-rays pointed in this direction. This is an illness familiar to me as I have been part of the Rheumatology community for a few years as the facilitator of the Colour of Communication designed for health professionals working in this field. The irony of suddenly attracting this illness did not escape me. Yet somehow, in the back screen of my mind all this news did not ring true. My intuitive “energy” colleagues supported that belief. Despite this I embarked of a course of treatment which over the next eleven months included two drugs, Plaquinil and Methotrexate (a form of chemotherapy). I saw my energy levels diminish yet I stayed with the program. I saw no observable forms of improvement in my joints yet I stayed with the program. Without recognizing it, I began to slide in my desire and drive to be of service.
Five weeks ago, in a collaborative decision with my rheumatologist, all medications were stopped. We both agreed that while my blood work was highly suggestive of RA, my lack of response to treatment indicated otherwise. Subsequently I have had additional joint studies completed which have revealed osteoarthritic changes in my fingers, no meds required.
I have written previously about Awakening, and I feel that at this moment I am once again in the awakening process. My energy levels have returned, I am waking up with a new sense of vigor and I feel that suddenly I am once again in the game. I have a suitcase full of appreciation for this. You do not realize what you have until it is removed for a period of time. And I, admittedly was under appreciating my life, my passion, my sense of purpose and my drive. I was under appreciating the ebb and the flow.
I have no judgment of the last year or the decision I made to seek and accept treatment for an illness I do not have. Rather I am grateful for my current state of health and for the lessons learned over the past 12 months. A significant aspect of this lesson is to embrace the ebb and the flow, to be in movement and to be in solitude and contemplation; to find the easy balance between the two.
With the newness of 2015 still on my skin, and an appreciation of all the forecasters and pundits, I know this to be a year for transformation. This means casting aside what no longer serves and creating space for what is waiting on the other side of the door. It is in the ebb that I have time to identify the castaways and in the flow that I can reach out and receive what is next.
I encourage you to identify the ebb and flow, the natural rhythm of your life. So much of daily living is forced rhythm. May this leave you with the desire for contemplation and the willingness to step into the ebb for a few moments everyday!
Until next time,
Betty