Vday woes…

This valentines day is one for the books. For the past couple of days I have been running a fever, headache and cold, all classic symptoms of the flu. Except I thought I was over my quota! I had one just two weeks ago – that time it was laryngitis and I had to cancel class and it happened to be Abhi’s birthday. Sickness is pretty much my nemesis. It may be because I didn’t get sick very often growing up, so even at 30 plus, I don’t get it that it passes.

I tried sitting with it, but all I could feel was a haze enveloping me. What’s funny is that, I realized I had a fever only while I was practicing Joseph Goldstein’s 9 minute meditation on sunday evening, when I was feeling the heat and the cold in my body. I realized after getting up that I was never warm!

So yesterday, Abhi stayed home and made me hot soupy lentils for lunch, and in the evening he did the groceries and entered the door with half a dozen red roses. Normally I would be over the moon – I LOVE flowers. But I could just summon a Thank you, and wanted to crawl into bed again. I’m even scared of going to the Doc – what if they put me in the hospital? I hate hospitals, the only time I’m brave in hospitals is when it involves Anjali. When it comes to me, I’m just a plain sissy. Though at Abhi’s insistence, I’m seeing a Doc this afternoon – but not looking forward to it!

So, here we are on Valentines day, sick. But there is a silver lining. There always is. Anjali is doing great. and I got to sleep for hours cuddling with my hubby, taken care of in every possible way. I just lie in bed and call out for things and they appear miraculously. My feet get massaged at night when I’ve been cold. I’ve been held a lot. The red roses seem almost unnecessary in this light of care. Maybe, being sick is not such a bad thing after all.

first heartbreak and first break!

Yesterday I got my first reject in the mail: for a piece I wrote on mind fog. Its an essay I spent a great deal of time and love on, and that is very close to my heart. I sent it to a buddhist magazine that I like reading, and the Editor wrote a nice note that they couldn’t accept it.

Interestingly, when you don’t hear back, there is still hope. But when you do hear back and it is a reject, in that moment, the heart breaks just a little bit. I tried not to dwell on it, but I did reread the piece, and thought to myself, perhaps this doesn’t fit the magazine. Though I say I tried not to dwell, dwell I did, moping around the house with Anjali in tow, feeling sorry for myself.

And then I happened to read the chapter on doubt from the lovely book ‘writing down the bones’, which I had borrowed from the lovely Joni Cole at the writers center (Joni’s workshop had been the inspiration for my mind fog piece). The chapter hit home, and the tears came. Of course, we doubt everything when something doesn’t work out!

But here is the amazing thing: I just dropped off Anjali at daycare and her teacher congratulated me on my article getting published. YES! My first piece in print, in the local magazine Kid Stuff. Divine intervention? A little bit of luck? Great timing? Perhaps all of it. I came into the house and did a happy dance. If you get a chance to see this magazine in the local shops (it is free), be sure to read my piece. It looks beautiful and reads beautiful, even if it is me saying so…

With Love, S.

It is possible to start over…

The single most important reason I write this blog is probably to remind myself of the possibility of peace. It doesn’t matter how rough a day is, or how bad a situation, or how disconnected I feel from myself, peace is always possible.

Last night I was irritated with Abhi, mostly because I was exhausted and scared because Anjali has a cold and I was taken flash back to the last time she had cold and it became something else. I noticed, I practiced compassion though I couldn’t stop the hum in my head. I felt grateful to get a chance break of meeting a dear friend. And before I went to bed, I looked at the card next to my bedside table: show me a day when the world isn’t new. and I remembered it this morning when I woke up : this day is different. This moment is different. Anjali still has a cold, but I’m not trapped in my fear. I’m present right now when it is simply a cold.

I happened to come across the phrase from the Kur’an recently: ‘There is no reality but God, there is only God’. This phrase struck me in its beauty – what a beautiful intention to remind oneself of at least five times a day!

I don’t have a specific answer for what is God, but I know the God in my heart, and the vastness and kindness this God is capable of. I agree with Walt Whitman when he says:

‘I hear and behold God in every object, yet I understand God not in the least,
Nor do I understand who there can be more wonderful than myself.’

This connection with my self is what brings me back to this moment. This acknowledgment of everything I feel – the judging, the rewarding, the anguish and doubt, and the hope and joy, and gratitude for all the love in my life. And this unconditional love that I give my daughter, I learn to give myself. And I remember, over five times a day that it is possible to start now, over, again. This is why I write.

with Love, S.