There are times that just beg for reflection. Illness does that for me. One of the things I have learned about my body is that it reflects internally and externally my condition. At important points in my life, it has helped me gather the strength to make changes or shifts that I would not otherwise do.
Carl Jung used the Chinese intuitive method of divining called the I-Ching. The Chinese developed an ancient system to look at the various cycles in human endeavors that mirror nature. It's been a while since I dug out my books, but after two weeks of a viral bronchitis, it was time.
My question was: what purpose does this illness serve?
_ _ Fu or Recovery/Returning was the sign. A new beginning after stagnation.
_ _ Working with one's essential nature, one can heal by gently resting,
___ reviewing the past, allowing energy to return and build without forcing it. The Chinese sign FU is thunder energy that is nourished under the docile nature of the earth and is renewed. At its very essence, the sign refers to the apparent pattern of the intelligence of heaven and earth - made manifest in love of life and in all forms of goodness.
Not only had I suffered with a nasty physical illness, I had been in a funk for quite some time. My world view was as stagnant as my lungs. Sure, I'd had some positive things go on. But for most of the year, I had simply endured a series of overwhelming events.
I wondered if I was loveable, yet there was no reason to believe that the people in my life didn't love me. Turning 48 years, I wondered if I was competent in anything as I struggled with trying to find a professional identity, express myself in writing, or take on new things like the harp.
In many ways, I had returned to my adolescent self - changing hormones, overly critical view of myself and the world, and feeling like I wanted more, but was very impatient with my less than perfect self. I had lots of health problems as a teenager and young adult. It took a lot of work to pace myself, focus on the things that were truly important, and take good care of myself. It is a lesson I am relearning.
Instead of circling back to the beginning, this felt more like a spiral. I certainly am not a teenager. Instead I am a mother of adult daughters, a grandmother, a wife of almost 30 years. I am aware that I have only moved twice in my adult life - both times within 20 miles of the farm I grew up on.
Somehow, this circling is something to reckon with. Home. One can never return home. Yet, I seem stuck in never leaving it. I have images of my youth that seem as fresh as yesterday. My work with others says that you can't forget those memories, yet they cannot control your life in the here and now. So how does one move forward without integrating the past with one's current life? I think what I am missing is a future. It has felt futile to have any attachments or hopes for possibilities when doors seemed to shut instead of open.
According to the I-Ching, there is a natural order in the rhythms of human endeavors that open and close, grow and decay, or bring light or darkness. I am so ready for an opening, growth, light, accepting the love that already exists in my life, and maybe accepting love that I don't even know exists in the world. After working with so many suffering people, it has been too easy to take on others' pain.
Where is the joy? It is already there. I just need to catch my breath and allow it to seep in.
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ReplyDeletethanks for this reflection and for being there for me as i return home.
ReplyDeleteLove,
Robyn
That's the best part of the journey - being with others as they walk their own truth.
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