Tag: Paralysis

111 The Grace of Acceptance

That is really difficult for me to accept. Coming from the Country of Perfect (Flag Page character analysis), I can see the “better way”. I can visualize what is easiest, healthiest, economically wise. It could be so easy. Tweak this. Move that. Do the other. And perfection will play out. I can see it for the worlds of my people.

This morning I woke up with the picture of Smith Wigglesworth in my mind, with him holding up the dead man, commanding him to come back to this existence.  No success with that one.  (And so much success in raising the dead in other circumstances.) In the acceptance, there is grace.

We are not always supposed to be the assistance, to bring the balance, to provide the healing.

That is really difficult for me to accept.  Coming from the Country of Perfect (Flag Page character analysis), I can see the “better way”.  I can visualize what is easiest, healthiest, economically wise.  It could be so easy.  Tweak this.  Move that.  Do the other.  And perfection will play out.  I can see it for the worlds of my people.

But it doesn’t work for me. My mind can picture what I want from myself, what is right, what I would like to do, be and accomplish.  But an inner lump wins.  (I started with the word “slug”, an inner slug, but I have watched some slugs cross the yard at a rapid pace!)

It is not inability.  It is not about time, because God knows there is tons of that right now.  It isn’t the illness or healing needs, or not so much anyway, because there are things that do get done.  

It is a form of that human paralysis, where I watch myself from outside and just can’t make the moves that “need” to be made.

The green leaves are in the refrigerator, but are not blended into smoothies.  The supplements are in the drawer, but get skipped, especially at night.  Water, why not more water?  Walking is easy, but it doesn’t happen, just doesn’t occur daily.  The writing, the art, the reading.  Why aren’t these things happening in a fluid, simple, healing order?

When I think of Smith Wigglesworth, when I think of watching my friends and knowing the moves that could change everything, and when I live my own conundrum, sometimes the answer is to just be there.  Like holding hands.  Like listening.  Like having great compassion for the struggle. For myself.  For the others.

In the peace of what is, in the acceptance, there is grace.  It is there, hiding in there.

63. Paralysis

I would stare at the body from the eyes. I heard the message. I felt the cold. Minutes would pass. And sleep would come. And I would wake up, still cold, hearing the message. Sometimes motion would happen. Sometimes the paralysis.

Ya, no.  I was never paralyzed.  

There was this weird condition that I witnessed, especially in the first few days after surgery.  The body could disconnect from the instructions of the mind.

I’d be trekking around the race car loop, breaking the sound barrier with my speed (not).  I intentionally took enough laps that sleep came next.  I’d sit down in the chair, wide awake.  Then it hit.  My plan was to sleep.  The blanket was one inch from my side.  My mind was gentle, “Bring the blanket over your lower body”.  Maybe less formal than that.  “Grab the blanket.”

And nothing.  I would stare at the body from the eyes.  I heard the message.  I felt the cold.  Minutes would pass.  And sleep would come.  And I would wake up, still cold, hearing the message.  Sometimes motion would happen.  Sometimes the paralysis.  

It wasn’t just the blanket.  “Eat the applesauce.”  “Drink some water.”  Stillness.  No motion.  I have never watched that happen before.  Not consciously.

But what if it is always there for all of us?  What if that state of inaction is in each day of motion?  Could it be at fault for so many of our issues?  We know what to do, know how to do it.   But implementation is paralyzed.  

Stop going to Starbucks.  Change the way you manage money.  Eat the broccoli.  We hear the directives, and some element of consciousness is paralyzed from the next action.  “Grab the blanket.”  But I cannot.