Taking time
Rest a little, Heal a lot
I was once spiritually ill- we all go through that.
but one day, the intelligence of my soul
cured me
-Meister Eckhart
A couple of years ago I got injured when I was walking my dog in the woods near my house. She was a lanky boxer pup, who was very interested other dogs. She would run around excitedly with every willing participant we came across on the trail. That day, we were pretty far into the hike. The quiet water of Comox was lake shining behind thick firs and one of these chasing games was taking place. As I was chatting with the other owner, one of her dogs ran into my legs. When I say ran, I mean full sprint collie run. The impact was like a bowling ball to my shin. My first thought was that my leg was broken, (had I been a decade or two older that very well might have been,) my second thought was how the heck am I going to walk 5k back to my car?
I could feel swelling the size of a mango under my hand but could weight bear so off I went, hobbling out of the woods and back home where I could assess the damage. No broken bones but bruising from the arch of my foot to the bottom of my knee would reveal itself over the coming weeks in startling shades of reds and purples, yellows and greens.
At the time of this event I was fresh in grief, having lost my, mother in a quick, violent bout of cancer. The wound from her loss felt catastrophic, like a missing limb, or a gunshot wound. It was the most painful thing I had ever experienced and yet, from the outside, looked completely invisible.
As I elevated and iced my leg, resting my body as much as I could to help the healing, I couldn’t help but contemplate how my outer wound was a mirror to the inner.
In the book The Four Agreements by Don Miguel Ruiz, the author states that if we could see the emotional wounds that each one of us carry we would be more careful with each other. In the wake of terrible loss I felt this acutely. Going out in public and engaging with the world felt incredibly vulnerable, my invisible wound leaking all over the place that no one could see, and because it couldn’t be seen, would intentionally or unintentionally get poked, prodded and hurt more.
If I had been hobbling around with crutches, there may be seats offered, doors opened, gentle words of encouragement and sympathy. More importantly, if it was something I could see, I might take the time to rest and recover, to slow down and have sympathy for myself. The invisible wound I was tending— not so much.
Our society has tendency to move fast. Our technology makes this even more so. Transformation reels fill our feeds and every coach has a five step program for a quick fix. Our imaginations are limitless and our minds can make leaps of understanding in seconds. If we were a walking talking brain maybe life wouldn’t hurt so much. If we didn't have bodies that can get injured, sick and die, if we had hearts that didn’t connect with others, love, and attach. If we didn’t have bodies and hearts maybe we wouldn’t have a reason to move so slowly.
We all know that when we are hurt or uncomfortable we want to get out of that feeling as quickly as we can. The funny thing is that so much of life is uncomfortable! Relationships, creativity, change, conversations, truth telling, authenticity, physical fitness, growth, love— all hard! All potentially painful.
I was having a hard time seeing the loss of my mother as something that had the potential to heal. I was in pain everyday and could not see it ever being different because that only thing that could stanch the bleeding, was her, and she was never coming back. Emotional and mental wounds are more also more subtle and mysterious, and no one really knows what to do with them let alone cure them. However, logic would say that if my leg could heal, if a forest can regenerate after a fire, my shattered heart could too.
There is a story a teacher of mine would often tell me about how the devil decided to hold a competition to see which of his demons could come up with the best scheme to stop ordinary people seeking God, and the winner came up with idea to tell us we had time. This kind of story always reinforced my anxiety about packing as much into my little life as possible, I have long been existentially afraid of missing my one “wild and precious life.” I didn’t know how to wait or rest, I didn’t know how to trust the natural timing of things, how the seasons the ebb and flow. I held my life tightly lest it slip out of the grip of my control.
This worked relatively well for a good while. I became skilled at things, dancing, fine arts, teaching yoga, mothering— I could push myself to be better, a better meditator, more spiritual, more disciplined in my practices. I, like anyone else enjoy being good at things. For a while, I thought this kind of rigorous pressure was the only way to “advance” on the path. Certainly it was necessary for the kind of activities I was pre suing and always, I was aware that I had times whip behind me, rest was not an option!
Then mom died, and all that I thought I knew died with her.
I couldn’t see then what I could when I saw my bruised leg a year later. That there was some incredible intelligence in my body that was repairing my tissues, and while I might be left with scar tissue, the pain would fade and I would walk with ease again.
I could not imagine a time I would wake up and not be in pain after losing my mom, by my heart had an intelligence that I had only scratched the surface of what was possible when I thought I was in control of everything. My heart is laden with scar tissue and will never be the same as it was but I like it that way. It feels lived in and earned and perhaps most importantly, I have renewed faith in it, and its incredible capacity to repair.
Time has given me a great gift, time and rest. I couldn’t hurry my heart to heal any more than I would make my leg heal faster. I had to wait, in the quiet dark of mystery and let it do its great work.
This is not a passive thing, resting is not doing nothing. It is the deep and passionate work of holding the mind while it breaks down all that isn't for you anymore. It is relentless rocking in the most loving arms you can muster for yourself, it is surrender into the timing that does not obey your wants or desires. It is brave and wild. It is the alchemy of change.
I don’t have all the time in the world, non of us do. But time, this great teacher, has made a reluctant admirer out of me.
As we settle into this winter season figuratively and literally in the northern hemisphere, I wish you rest. I wish you long uninterrupted moments rich with feeling, and laden with all the intelligence of your soul.
“I want us to understand that nuance is freeing and freedom. There is no such thing as cookie-cutter healing. Everyone brings with them an origin story, a history, and identities that are interconnected. There is room to rest in the freedom of managing your own deprogramming journey. It is never either/or and always both/and. You don’t have to grind, hustle, accept burnout as normal, and be in a constant state of exhaustion and sleep deprivation. You don’t have to kill yourself spiritually or physically to live a fruitful life.”
― Tricia Hersey, Rest Is Resistance: A Manifesto