Tonight in class, I was listening to Gina talk about going to a presentation on heart health where a number of proven self-care strategies were described. Gina said she had the feeling that few, if any, of the people present would likely adopt the heart healthy behaviors...because, like so many others, they don't perceive themselves as currently having a need to change. Everything is fine right now, so why do something that is difficult or uncomfortable? Of course, the reality is that everything might not be fine and one might not even be aware of it...there might not be a symptom in the world or a measurable physiological indicator.
That's how it was with me. Everyone would have said I was the picture of health. In fact, most would describe me as some sort of health nut. A long time vegetarian, regular exerciser, non-smoker and rare consumer of alcohol. But, one day, as if out of nowhere, a lump appeared in my breast -- my healthy habits and my yoga practice had not prevented cancer. What the %$^#&? After the shock dissipated, I recalled that all of us are subject to old age, sickness, decay and death...even those of us who make every effort to avoid the realities of living in a finite body. Since my prevention plan had failed, I decided that my healthy lifestyle would help me get through treatment, would protect me against side effects, would sustain me when things got tough.
But I also had to stop. I had to prioritize far more than ever before because I had a limited amount of energy. As Gina talked tonight about the fact that so many of us refuse to stop and take a look inside, I recalled one of my spiritual advisors telling me that it took something as dramatic as cancer to make me stop -- and it wasn't that I was doing bad things. In fact, all my busy-ness was what one might call admirable. Serving at the soup kitchen regularly. Teaching lots of courses and advising several student organizations. Teaching yoga classes. Going to church. And on and on and on...When I was forced to pare everything down to the essentials, I realized that all my busy-ness, though borne out of good intentions, continally drew me outward, left little time for stillness. And as I got still, things became clearer...
I don't think my busy-ness caused me to have cancer. But I think my busy-ness was a distraction from the Big I. And somehow, cancer reintroduced me to her, forced me to be quiet enough to hear her voice, still enough to feel her within me.
"Those who refuse to go within go without..."