Oh no! You feel a tickle at the back of your throat and your nose is starting to feel stuffy. You know what this means.
There’s no room in your life for a cold or flu. It’s not in your plan for the month. Even so, you are forced to take to bed.
The placard bearers
Then the ‘If Only’ Brigade comes marching into your room, each bearing a placard:
If only you hadn’t done xyz . . .
If only you were more resilient, like so and so . . .
If only you hadn’t pushed yourself so hard . . .
If only you were more enlightened . . .
then you wouldn’t have got sick.
The Worry Brigade might jump in as well, with:
How will you manage xyz. . .?
What about that appointment, the lunch date, the job that must be done . . . ?
How will you take care of yourself, you’ve got no-one to help . . . ?
What about the loss of income . . . ?
This is a catastrophe!
And how about the ‘Poor Me’ Brigade, with:
It always happens to you . . .
You’re the only one who . . .
This is misery!
Relax
Relax. You’ve done nothing wrong.
Getting sick is part of life.
Being vulnerable is part of life.
The cold or flu could be your body’s way of taking a rest. In winter, bats, bumblebees, bears and hedgehogs hibernate until conditions are more favourable. Snails do a temporary shut-up-shop by aestivating: climbing to a high place and sealing the wall of their shell with mucus. Humans get the flu.
Sickness removes you from the activity of your life and asks something new of you. It takes you by the scruff of the neck, shakes you out of Doing and drops you into Being.
A snail tale
You may have heard the story of American woman Elisabeth Tova Bailey. Elisabeth was a fit, active 34 year old, enjoying a holiday in Europe, when she contracted a rare and virulent virus that attacked her nervous system. The virus left her incapacitated and bed–ridden, unable even to sit up. After months in and out of hospital she was moved to a white-walled apartment, where the windows were too far away for her to see the outside world. Life felt so bleak it was hardly worth living.
Then a friend brought an inspired gift: a terracotta pot of soil and wild violets from Elisabeth’s favourite forest. Tucked under the violets was a snail that the friend had found gliding along the forest path.
Watching the snail during her sleepless nights brought comfort, interest and a sense of companionship for the immobilised woman. She and the snail shared the same pace and rhythm, and through close observation as only a very still person could manage, she discovered many secrets of the snail’s existence. She learned that even a snail, removed from its natural world and confined to a small space in a barren room, had a life of interest and beauty. Eventually she recovered enough to research and write her beautiful book ‘The Sound of a Wild Snail Eating.’
Three levels of rest
When sickness slows your life down to a snail’s pace and the berating Brigades stalk in and make you miserable, try seeing your illness as an opportunity for true rest on three levels:
- Rest your body. Surrender. Totally. Be compassionate and accept what is. If you have a little energy, pamper yourself with sweet fragrance, uplifting music, simple food and your favourite remedies.
- Rest your mind. Let go of news bulletins and the cares of the world. Find gentle companionship in easy reading and kind thoughts. My friend reads Jane Austen when she is sick. I like poetry. Elisabeth Tova Bailey is pretty good too.
- Rest your spirit. True rest comes from acceptance and self love. Breathe a deep sigh and know that this too will pass. Healing is happening. Be tender and gentle and allow renewal to take place.
I had planned to write about rest even before I got the flu. Being sick has enabled me to sleep and dream, to gather my theme at a snail’s pace, to nurture my body and write this newsletter by hand in small, slow pieces.
Whether you are well or unwell right now, you too can enfold yourself in compassion and give yourself to the deep rest that comes when you lovingly accept what you can’t change.
Each person deserves a day away in which no problems are confronted, no solutions searched for. Each of us needs to withdraw from the cares which will not withdraw from us.
—Maya Angelou
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Oh Juliet, how wonderful to read this and it’s so true! I found myself saying all those things then having to recognise the gift of the time to be. Be vulnerable, self caring, trusting my body to heal….
Hilary, I’m so glad this resonated with you and you know about this process too. Thank you.
Perfect timing, Juliet – as I struggle with frustration at getting my second cold of the year and not being able to work! Thank you!
Clare, so sorry to hear of your cold, but glad that the post has resonated. Wishing you gentleness and healing.
Your page spoke to me in the moment. I have my left arm in sling after shoulder operation. It hurts, I can’t dress myself, I am dependent on others to help, which I don’t like after years of living alone. My ankle still hurts after a previous operation. I can”t get out into my beloved garden to plant the new roses. It’s all a lesson in patience. The good bit is almost unlimited time to read. Just finished Mary Doria Russell’s book A Thread of Grace, about Jews in Italy during WW2. I have nothing to complain about, have I, by comparison. Or by comparison with the elderly people I read about in the paper, who can’t afford heating in the Christchurch winter. The prayer of St Francis very relevant.
So sorry to hear the news of the death of [our friend’s husband]. That time of our lives I guess. My daughter, who nursed on a geriatric ward, said that people think of old age as a golden time of rest and peace, whereas it can actually be one of the most stressful times – a time of giving up, letting go. Not just yet for me if I can help it! But pacing ourselves becomes more necessary.
Christine, that’s tough to be incapacitated and in pain as well. A lesson in patience indeed. I wish you healing and more good reading. Thank you for your response.
Juliet your beautiful words always seem to fit my current life experience and this is no exception, I feel that scratchy throat after being away at a conference and am grateful I can take some time and read a book and surrender to rest. Thank you again!
Connor, what synchronicity. Wishing you rest, healing, and enjoyable reading. Thank you so much for your comment.
Deeply profound sentiments Juliet, thank you. When the going gets tough, I focus on those new leaves and that exquisite flower and realise that much of life we can’t alter. The birds chatter just as cheerfully whether I’ve fed them or not. I give thanks that I can see and hear those things, and have faith that the sun will come up tomorrow.
Jenny, what a positive approach. Thank you, and I’m so thrilled that you and other newsletter readers are finding their way to the comments box. That’s such an affirmation and a support for me.
So lovely to read this Juliet. July is my birthday month, and I always seem a little depressed around this time for some reason. All is well though, and these things pass. Thank you for the tips of rest. Very good. I’m not the only one feeling a bit ‘needy’ at this time. Grateful for snail story and …..the chirping birds. Cheers. Cecily
Cecily, how good to hear from you. I think July is the hardest month for many, so all the more important to practise compassion and self love. First Light/Brigid is not far away. Thank you so much for responding.
Juliet, beautiful! It’s summer here in US, so I will flag your post for flu season, wonderful wisdom in gentleness & awareness. And I think the same principles apply to my weekend vacation 🙂 it can be so hard to unplug from work & caregiving, and it is such a gift to have a few days off.
Amy, thank you, and how nice that you can apply this to your vacation time off, even though you are not in the flu season.
Thank you Juliet for your lovely reminder that it is okay to do nothing!
Thank you Chris; it’s something we need to keep remembering.
Such a beautiful post, Juliet. And such a beautiful way of capturing the gift we offer ourselves with those “three levels of rest.” So wonderful when we can surrender and give our body, mind and spirit space and time to do what it naturally wants to do…find balance and heal.
Dana, thank you. I know this is what you practise too. It’s been a healing experience on all levels.
I love and resonate with your message here, as this spring I ended up with a flu and related illness that dragged on far longer than any I’d ever had. I learned the related lesson: Take time, and rest into recovery. Resting and taking the time your body (and mind!) require to heal is very important too! I love what you write here: Rest your Mind, Rest Your Body, Rest Your Spirit. Great lessons!
Jane, how wonderful that you resonate with this message, having learned it from the inside! Thank you for visiting and commenting.
Thank you Juliet for this lovely posting, and apologies for my belated response. Your newsletters are also such timely reminders to connect as appropriate for the season, and many give me just the boost I need at that time. This was one of those moments. I’m familiar with ill health and the berating brigades, so your re-framing of the need for such times is a really helpful reminder for me, thank you. When I am able to surrender to the experience, rather than fight it, I do find it can be transformative. But it’s a lesson I need to keep learning! I’m glad you are recovering well.
Julie, I’m so glad this struck the right moment for you. Thank you so much for your comment.
Thanks, Juliet, I feel relaxed just reading your newsletter! I haven’t had a cold or flu but you remind me about the importance of self-care. Resting the body, mind and spirit is such an important winter focus.
Margie, I’m so glad it was a relaxing read! It’s so important to attend to self care before the body forces us into it. Thank you.