Learning to Meditate: My New Drug of Choice

If someone had told me that meditation was a miracle drug, I would have laughed out loud. Yes, I know it helps one to relax, maybe even lowers blood pressure, and definitely promotes mindfulness. But I decided to make a serious attempt at it to find relief from some new aches and pains and for the past three days the results have been nothing short of amazing.

Illustration by Arthur Rackham

You see, I was experiencing some lower back pain, and... no, let me go further back... This year, I've been dealing with a new dis-ease, severe psoriasis, and I thought perhaps it had developed into psoriatic arthritis. In addition to switching to a more anti-inflammatory diet, I rationalized, I'd better also pay attention to my posture; and maybe my bed was too soft, or too hard; and I probably needed to wear shoes with more arch support... 

But then, it went from bad to worse, and now the pain was starting from my rump and going down my left leg to my ankle, and it was excruciating, crippling, debilitating - there were actually times when I could barely walk or bend over. So, I reasoned, my sciatic nerve must be inflamed or pinched or something. But what to do about it? I couldn't see myself resorting to pain pills or surgery... Hot and cold packs? Acupuncture? Yoga? 

So I decided to talk to my body. (This already worked once before, when my knees were giving me trouble.) And the best way to do that was to sit quietly, with a quartz crystal in my hand (this particular one is a Herkimer diamond quartz cluster), and meditate while calling upon the Reiki symbols to help seal the deal. The first day, I sat on the edge of the bed, feet on the floor, spine aligned and closed my eyes. Breathing slowly and deeply, I began by clearing my mind and then I said, "I'm really sorry. I love you."

After a few minutes of breathing and thinking only of how much I loved my body and everything it had ever done for me, I felt the pain slowly leave.  The rest of the day, I felt no more pain. It came back, of course, but not as intense. The second day, I did the same thing, with the same result: No more pain.

And today, after I said "I love you, I'm sorry," I thanked every part of my body I could think of: skin, brain, bones, kidneys, liver, spleen, lungs, heart, hair, eyes, nose, mouth, tongue, blood, bladder, pancreas, muscles, tendons... and my eyes filled with tears... And, once again, no pain. I even thanked the pain, for teaching me about self-love and gratitude and making amends.

Later, driving in my car, listening to a CD and singing along, bobbing my head to the beat, I felt joy, I felt happy, I felt good. Why? Because I felt like me again. I am intense. I am strong. And I am probably the most optimistic pessimist you'll ever meet. 

As we age, we still have lessons to learn, and we're never too old to learn them. Today I learned to tap into my inner resources, go within to go without, express myself without fear, love my life.

Self-love. Healing. Meditation. I highly recommend them.

What's Past Is Past...

An entire year ago,  you may remember, I was desperately seeking Silver, my little five-year-old cat who ran away. The cat carrier fell apart on our arrival back home after visiting the vet to get her inoculations and she bolted, took off for the wooded area behind our house and was gone for exactly seven weeks. At the time, it seemed like seven years being lost in the desert.

The entire time she was missing, I alternated between hope and hopelessness, but I also had to learn to accept the possibility of life without her while vowing to never give up on finding her. I must have looked out the windows a thousand times, like a ghost.
Valuable life lessons were learned, and as I wrote my little messages to put in my "hope chest" (what others might call a prayer or "God" box) that read something like, "Hoping she returns safe and sound" and "Whatever happens is for the greatest good" I was also confident she knew how to take care of herself in the wild. Still, I was constantly consumed by anxiety, grief and fear.

I worried about coyotes and cars and owls and cruel people, but mostly I just missed her rolling on the floor at my feet or jumping up on my lap or seeing her little innocent face looking up at me. And then one evening, quite by happy accident, exactly seven weeks later, she ran past me and stopped when I called out to her. I brought her food and picked her up (she weighed no more than a kitten) and carried her back inside, where she seems quite content to remain.

Her brother, Copper, was such a comfort to me while she was gone, and I think he, too, was relieved when she came home. After all, they are twins (both six years old now), so he must have felt strange being all alone. I think he must have sensed my sorrow and we often took comfort in each other.

During our ordeal, I was supported by my husband, my family and some rock-solid friends. I also read two very helpful books. One was The Secrets of Lost Cats: One Woman, Twenty Posters and a New Understanding of Love by Dr. Nancy Davidson, given to me by my husband. The other, loaned to me by our wonderful village postmaster, was Lost Cat: A True Story of Love, Desperation and GPS Technology by Caroline Paul. Informative and amusing, I highly recommend them both.

Relatively speaking, things are pretty good in my neck of the woods these days. In a world so wracked by uncertainty and doubt, we are all just happy to be together again, bound by love and gratitude and the deep blue sea.