November 23, 2012
Oh, How I Miss the TURBO
How many rounds has it been?
It would seem that there are no blessed burpees this round. But, how I miss the TURBO!!!
Oh, how I miss the breathless feeling of TURBO firey KICKin. Yes, that feeling of not quite surreal OMG-amazing couldn't quite make me soo WoW! Maybe someday again.
Hurry up and heal so I could feel it again!
PLUS the burpees!!
How many rounds has it been???
Yeah! A. Lot!!!
FK. Lyme!!
November 18, 2012
A Necessary Break
Today I cried. A lot.
Yesterday I traveled over the hill to an herbalism course hosted by HAALo in Nevada City, CA. It was a wonderfully in depth course about the Lyme disease treatment protocol by Stephen Buhner I have been using since earlier this year. I learned the newest cutting edge work happening in treating the disease by rekindling a relationship with the natural world. But more, I was able to share my story with other people who are also working through the disease. I was supported and encouraged by others who are living with the same pain. In a little more than a year, I have come to deeply understand what it means to be impermanent. I have contemplated mortality from a new point of view. I have tremored with weakness against the will of my body and mind. I have often given up on hope, and found it again. I have meditated with a new fire because I know time is too short for the work I have to do. And I have fallen in love over and over because who knows when my last breath will be. I have found a powerful relationship with the herbs that have begun to cleanse and heal me. I learned how to make a tincture, wild harvest herbs, listen to my body, feel the blood moving in my veins, rest, ...and pray.
Yesterday I realized how hard I've been on myself. For the past several weeks meditation has been deeply painful. Since the last "realization," I have felt conflicted, afraid, confused, and impatient. Again, I have realized that grasping desire and not renunciation spatter my thoughts with stains of pain. I have come to this place before. I remember writing it in a book. "I do not have bodhichitta." I no longer look at my eyes with compassion. I see myself in the mirror and judge what I see. I look at my scars with irritation. I curse my body for not being perfect. I curse my mind for failing. And when I sit, I'm flooded with painful thought streams that scream at me, reminding me of the way I felt "before." I hold myself not with compassion for being on a healing path while holding so much pain in the hope of transmuting it so others don't have to feel it- but with anger that I don't know how.
I have the desire to have bodhichitta.
This cascade of illness and healing crisis are a blessing. I have come a long way since going to the emergency room last June with the severe onset of Lyme disease that was already having a traumatic impact on my brain and central nervous system. And only weeks ago, on the beautiful hillside looking out over the regenerating lands, I realized a little bit of my capacity to be a vessel for the divine. How quickly hopelessness can set in. And then I was brought to my knees in prayer, asking for blessings. Time to heal. How wonderful it is that I can take this time to be in silence, prayer, meditation, crying, and re-connection And today, it clicked. I know how I came to be in this sickness cascade. Somewhere in-between I stopped loving- my self first- and unavoidably everyone else. I forgot. Isolated. Listened to the uncomfortable 12-inches in my mind.
Now, tea. tears. remembering.
I'm so thankful for the blessing of illness. To remember the internal waters that flow without effort. My resilience. To dance again in a dim room because I can. The miracle of breath- moving gracefully through and binding me back together after falling into a thousand sparkling pieces.
Sparkling. Shimmering. Glittering. Radiant. Beautiful. Powerful. Joyful and mourning. Grateful and sad. Blessed and supported. Singing and silent. Listening. Loving. Loved.
Understanding the root of how this came to be, I can now work toward well being, healing, and wholeness. I'm not feeling afraid anymore. Everythings O.K!
Yesterday I traveled over the hill to an herbalism course hosted by HAALo in Nevada City, CA. It was a wonderfully in depth course about the Lyme disease treatment protocol by Stephen Buhner I have been using since earlier this year. I learned the newest cutting edge work happening in treating the disease by rekindling a relationship with the natural world. But more, I was able to share my story with other people who are also working through the disease. I was supported and encouraged by others who are living with the same pain. In a little more than a year, I have come to deeply understand what it means to be impermanent. I have contemplated mortality from a new point of view. I have tremored with weakness against the will of my body and mind. I have often given up on hope, and found it again. I have meditated with a new fire because I know time is too short for the work I have to do. And I have fallen in love over and over because who knows when my last breath will be. I have found a powerful relationship with the herbs that have begun to cleanse and heal me. I learned how to make a tincture, wild harvest herbs, listen to my body, feel the blood moving in my veins, rest, ...and pray.
Yesterday I realized how hard I've been on myself. For the past several weeks meditation has been deeply painful. Since the last "realization," I have felt conflicted, afraid, confused, and impatient. Again, I have realized that grasping desire and not renunciation spatter my thoughts with stains of pain. I have come to this place before. I remember writing it in a book. "I do not have bodhichitta." I no longer look at my eyes with compassion. I see myself in the mirror and judge what I see. I look at my scars with irritation. I curse my body for not being perfect. I curse my mind for failing. And when I sit, I'm flooded with painful thought streams that scream at me, reminding me of the way I felt "before." I hold myself not with compassion for being on a healing path while holding so much pain in the hope of transmuting it so others don't have to feel it- but with anger that I don't know how.
I have the desire to have bodhichitta.
This cascade of illness and healing crisis are a blessing. I have come a long way since going to the emergency room last June with the severe onset of Lyme disease that was already having a traumatic impact on my brain and central nervous system. And only weeks ago, on the beautiful hillside looking out over the regenerating lands, I realized a little bit of my capacity to be a vessel for the divine. How quickly hopelessness can set in. And then I was brought to my knees in prayer, asking for blessings. Time to heal. How wonderful it is that I can take this time to be in silence, prayer, meditation, crying, and re-connection And today, it clicked. I know how I came to be in this sickness cascade. Somewhere in-between I stopped loving- my self first- and unavoidably everyone else. I forgot. Isolated. Listened to the uncomfortable 12-inches in my mind.
Now, tea. tears. remembering.
I'm so thankful for the blessing of illness. To remember the internal waters that flow without effort. My resilience. To dance again in a dim room because I can. The miracle of breath- moving gracefully through and binding me back together after falling into a thousand sparkling pieces.
Sparkling. Shimmering. Glittering. Radiant. Beautiful. Powerful. Joyful and mourning. Grateful and sad. Blessed and supported. Singing and silent. Listening. Loving. Loved.
Understanding the root of how this came to be, I can now work toward well being, healing, and wholeness. I'm not feeling afraid anymore. Everythings O.K!
November 5, 2012
Starts and Stops
So yeah, I gave up. Sometime after my last Lyme flare I somehow lost the will to care for myself as I had been doing for the past years. The darkness won. The cupboards became adulterated with genetically modified carbs and partially hydrogenated oils hidden in junk foods. I continued to take the powerful mix of herbs that formed the basis of my Lyme treatment, but despite feeling progressively better, I began to feel hopeless about ever going back to "the way it was." I realized that I could no longer do the famed squat thrusts that had given me the will to kick. TurboKick, that is. I realized that life was never going to go back to being the same.
I had a wonderful, healthful phase before this deviation from the plan. After making the commitment to care for myself through a dark and hopeless phase that I faced at the end of 2011, I began feeding my body the foods it needed to take on the task of healing. I shifted from the low-calorie mentality to a healthful and whole approach. I've never been one for tradition, but the traditional foods diet really seemed to make a lot of sense to me. (It still does.) But who has time to spend a good portion of the week preparing complex meals (for one)? Amidst the rest of my growing responsibilities to my work and friends, cooking traditional meals fell by the wayside and I reverted to eating unhealthy, unsustainable food again.
I have deeply begun to feel the necessity of bringing my "eating life" into line with the rest of my spiritual practice. I've been winding my way through Savor by Thich Nhat Hanh. And I began to meditate on it. But as soon as I began to contemplate it, I noticed the thought, "But, this is too big." Indeed, this too is worthy of my spiritual practice. Perhaps that's why I've quit meditating regularly for the past several weeks. Because as my body sends me the clear signal that all is not right, I am forced to recognize that my lack of care contributed to this situation.
I'm ill. It started with a quick and virulent influenza that took hold while I was traveling to California to recharge with my permie family. Then it became clear that while my immunity was down, the invading, and opportunistic microorganisms found a welcoming place. Old pathways opened up, like the barn door left open overnight, and I found myself immobilized in bed with familiar symptoms of hopelessness and helplessness.
And here we are. It's early in the beautiful morning. I woke up and greeted the dark sky. I remembered for a moment my interconnection to the vast amazingness of this universe, how I was born to be a vessel for the light of love. Indeed, even this is worthy of my spiritual practice. So this is a little love note to my body. I am aware that I have been self-harming by way of food, rest, exercise, and meditation. I ignored the divinity of this being because of confusion and pain. I see the light inside that longs to come out in service to those I've been blessed to know. In service to myself and all other divine beings, I wish to be healthy and well. I make the wish for myself and all those I know for the willingness to care for the body and mind. I wish for the well being to be able to choose the right path. I acknowledge the demons that have kept me trapped in fear. I resolve to sit with them in silent meditation in order to show them care and compassion.
And with that, I propose a toast. To compassion toward the body and mind.
I drink a salt water flush to that!
Savor
I had a wonderful, healthful phase before this deviation from the plan. After making the commitment to care for myself through a dark and hopeless phase that I faced at the end of 2011, I began feeding my body the foods it needed to take on the task of healing. I shifted from the low-calorie mentality to a healthful and whole approach. I've never been one for tradition, but the traditional foods diet really seemed to make a lot of sense to me. (It still does.) But who has time to spend a good portion of the week preparing complex meals (for one)? Amidst the rest of my growing responsibilities to my work and friends, cooking traditional meals fell by the wayside and I reverted to eating unhealthy, unsustainable food again.
I have deeply begun to feel the necessity of bringing my "eating life" into line with the rest of my spiritual practice. I've been winding my way through Savor by Thich Nhat Hanh. And I began to meditate on it. But as soon as I began to contemplate it, I noticed the thought, "But, this is too big." Indeed, this too is worthy of my spiritual practice. Perhaps that's why I've quit meditating regularly for the past several weeks. Because as my body sends me the clear signal that all is not right, I am forced to recognize that my lack of care contributed to this situation.
I'm ill. It started with a quick and virulent influenza that took hold while I was traveling to California to recharge with my permie family. Then it became clear that while my immunity was down, the invading, and opportunistic microorganisms found a welcoming place. Old pathways opened up, like the barn door left open overnight, and I found myself immobilized in bed with familiar symptoms of hopelessness and helplessness.
And here we are. It's early in the beautiful morning. I woke up and greeted the dark sky. I remembered for a moment my interconnection to the vast amazingness of this universe, how I was born to be a vessel for the light of love. Indeed, even this is worthy of my spiritual practice. So this is a little love note to my body. I am aware that I have been self-harming by way of food, rest, exercise, and meditation. I ignored the divinity of this being because of confusion and pain. I see the light inside that longs to come out in service to those I've been blessed to know. In service to myself and all other divine beings, I wish to be healthy and well. I make the wish for myself and all those I know for the willingness to care for the body and mind. I wish for the well being to be able to choose the right path. I acknowledge the demons that have kept me trapped in fear. I resolve to sit with them in silent meditation in order to show them care and compassion.
And with that, I propose a toast. To compassion toward the body and mind.
I drink a salt water flush to that!
Savor
Lyme and Shine
I'm not used to feeling helpless.At this time last year I was healthier that I had ever been in my life. I was loving my favorite fitness class at the gym, Turbo Kick. I was enjoying the amazing journey of blossoming into a space of hope after losing a close friend and coming to the realization that life is too short to not do the thing you love.
And that's what I was doing... when I went to the emergency room in June of 2011. I was in extreme pain with a headache that was relentlessly taking over my life. I was dizzy, nauseated, and had scary looking rashes that developed into the classic bulls eye rashes you hear about with Lyme Disease.
Although I didn't recall being bit by a tick immediately, when I went home that night I remembered that a month before, in May, I had what looked like an annoying blackhead that I couldn't scrub off with the loofah. I wasn't thinking that it might be a tick. I scrubbed it off, and a month later found myself in the ER. They diagnosed me there based on my symptoms and rashes. They also got the tick head out. They were glad we caught it so early. (The rashes were appearing on parts of my body away from the original tick bite. This happens sometimes with early disseminated Lyme.) They started me on a course of antibiotics and sent me back to my primary care doctor.
... There are more writings on this topic, but because they are too tender to yet share, they are omitted from this blog... for now...
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