“I’m being invited into a constant awareness of my stomach.” Famous last words.
Last week, that wretched flu took me down and laid me out for a few days, ending the year with less yoga teaching than I’d anticipated and much more time spent in bed (and warm days at that).
As I eased back out into the world, though, gingerly (haha!) re-introducing bananas and toast and tea, my digestive system felt sore, as if to say, “hey, we’d had a nice break there, back to work already?”
I’d feel right as rain as I’d lie in bed, and getting bored, I’d make plans to finally finish those thank you notes from the holidays, but by the time I’d picked my way to the desk, my hands couldn’t hold up a pen for very long, let alone get my mind clear enough for composing.
All this havoc clarified things very sharply. The truly immediate needs became clear. I had a doctor’s appointment; must dress, and leave plenty of time for slow and deliberate driving (no sudden stops or pot holes, and no noticeable accelerating–my stomach said so). Back home and to bed, but try a bit more food first, an apple? And with every move, my stomach felt like that overworked muscle from your recent long run.
So it took a stomach virus, cleaning me out (too graphic?) of 2015, to make me realize and reflect: the key for 2016 is to move slowly and breathe deeply. Anything that might feel like an emergency isn’t; everything will be sorted in relatively short order, whether or not you’re involved; what’s the thing right, directly in front of you, right now? Pay attention to that thing, give it all your attention, muster your concentration around that one thing just for now (while it’s all I could manage for a few days, I realized, it’s really not that bad of a way to live one’s whole life–though I could stand to be rid of the queasiness!).
author is now back to normal, horse-like eating habits, no harm, no foul.