Finding Gratitude Amidst Tears

Today, I cry for what the pain prevents me from doing. Although there were improvements over the previous weeks, I still can’t accept the stillness taking over my body. This stillness won’t go away. I cry for the dance that used to make me sweat. I cry for all the work I had done on myself, over the past years, to get to the point where I could totally express myself, as I would.

Tears fall down when I think about mountains, when I am aware that even the smallest summits are goals too ambitious for my painful body. I already anticipate summer and the invitations I will have to turn down. I could bury my head in the sand, and cut everyone out, but I also anticipate the invitations my partner will get and will accept (with reason!), and that will make me face my sudden incapacity to live the adventure with my friends. Well, I know that this is all part of a fictitious future that only I anticipate.

I can’t quite grasp the meaning of my illness and why the healthy activities that made up my life are now forbidden. I let tears fall down and welcome my powerlessness and  discouragement.

Welcoming, to me, means I open my heart and let go. It’s living with open arms.

With resistance, I start to open up to these activities that I can no longer do for now. I begin letting go of what I hold on to. I can’t fully let go yet, but I am working on it. At the center of this process, that I do not fully understand yet, I feel that everything happens for the better, and I allow myself to be filled with gratitude for all the daily joys, big or small.

I am grateful for…

• Nights without pain
• The ease at which I get out of bed in the morning (I mean physically)
• My ability to cook without pain and all the good vegetarian recipes I discover
• Entering the shower and getting dressed…without pain!
• The joy I get from going around the lake and Mont-Bellevue at a normal pace
• Moments alone, reading and writing in my journal, at lac des Nations
• The pleasure of getting to places by foot (to go for a coffee, to the gym, do groceries)
• The improvements from my training at the gym; slowly, my legs are becoming stronger
• Inspiring readings (right now I am reading Courage by Osho and When the Body Says No by Gabor Mate)
• My partner’s and my friends’ support, presence and generosity
• Quality time with my students
• The happiness within me that is present more often than not
• Moments at the spa, a treat I finally allow myself to enjoy for my well being
• The return of the sun and the heat

The list could go on forever. Yes, every day I immerse myself in the present moment and in that moment I experience so much beauty. Osho’s words speak to me: 

“If you allow the new to enter you will never be the same again, the new will transform you. It is risky. One never knows where you will end up with the new. The old is known, familiar; you have lived with it for long, you are acquainted with it. The new is unfamiliar. It may be the friend; it may be the enemy, who knows. And there is no way to know. The only way to know is to allow it; hence the apprehension, the fear.” Osho – Courage

My pain brings me to something new. A friend… an enemy… who knows. So I welcome the new, in the best way possible, to let myself be transformed.