I’ve had a strange old August. Not the one I had envisaged by a long chalk. I started it off with what I believe is called `face planting.’ Crashing headlong into the pavement: smashed glasses, black eyes, cracked teeth, fat lip and bruising like a bare-knuckle boxer. Just the sort of look I was hoping for this summer.
I kept calm, breathed into it and my daughter, who was with me at the time, couldn’t believe that I didn’t cry. I kept my mind firmly under control not allowing it to wander into an unknown catastrophe, healed myself with arnica, ice packs and Reiki and most of the swelling and bruising had gone within a week. Result!
A couple of days later I started with a temperature, shivers and chest infection. Humph! Just as I was getting well too! Despite my best self-healing efforts, I have had asthma since childhood and, sadly, had to resort to antibiotics and steroids. Reiki wasn’t cutting it this time and I’m not a complementary therapist who throws the baby out with the bathwater. We live longer in the C21st for a reason – as long as we use modern medicine wisely and in moderation.
I was still keeping calm as I rested my body watching way too much daytime TV than is good for me but my asthma deteriorated to the point that I had to be admitted to hospital for a few days. Still I kept a tight leash on my mind. It did it’s best to propel me into all manner of worst case scenarios where I was bed ridden in an iron-lung (if they still have such things) or even dead. I breathed into my nebuliser, knelt on my bed doing yoga and focused on every moment as it was happening: the feel of the vapour as I breathed it in, the sounds of the other patients, crying or shouting or snoring – or worse! – the blessing that is the NHS – please don’t let the idiots currently in power shut it down. I had, not quite a holiday, but a rest at least. Even the food was OK.
When I came home I was given pretty horrible medication that makes me feel as bad as the asthma – but it’s keeping me alive so what’s to complain about? My breathing was improving, my energy levels were increasing all was looking good. Until!
Part of my healing plan was to employ a cleaner to deep clean the house and root out all those corners of dust that have eluded me for longer than I care to admit. Half way through the cleaning she informed me that the tap in the kitchen was leaking. Actually, it wasn’t so much leaking as squirting water all over the worktop where she had broken it off! No problem, I thought, keeping calm and breathing into it: the agency will carry insurance. Ha! They didn’t! So I’m now involved in an unpleasant battle for compensation, with the company blaming the cleaner, the cleaner blaming me (?) and me just wanting someone to pay for my broken tap.
I was still keeping a handle on things when I took out the washing the other day. It was a glorious morning. I opened up my rotary drier – and hit myself square on the forehead. And that was it. The final straw that broke this camel’s back. Out it all poured: the bashed-up face, the chest infection, the asthma, the medication, the broken tap – the lot.
One small knock on the head; one giant floodgate of emotion.
And therein lies this particular lesson for me. Being in the moment is, in my opinion, absolutely the way to reach a higher level of consciousness, but part of being in the moment is being in touch with our feelings. Rather than simply breathing into them and trying to rationalise them, I might have been better if I’d expressed them earlier. Allowing my shock and pain at falling over to come out; my fear at not being able to breathe; my anger at the attitude of the cleaning company and my frustration at not being active for several weeks, might have averted my total meltdown as I stood in the garden with an armful of wet washing.
Emotions, are the key to what’s going on in our bodies. They are real and not to be ignored. And, like most things in life, they are best done in moderation: little and often, thus avoiding the pressure-cooker of built-up, unexpressed feelings. Crying is not a weakness: it’s an outlet: a safety valve. Expressing what we don’t like allows us more emotional space for what we do like.
So I’m suggesting that it’s fine to keep calm – as long as that’s genuine. But if it’s covering what’s really going on, then go ahead and cry. Get it all out. You’ll be amazed at authentic calmness that lies beneath. It’s your party- cry if you want to! I intend to.
Reiki in Wanstead 