Given the almost constant low level of irritation I experience, usually prompted by physical discomfort, any effort to feel joyful is an uphill battle. It also takes a distant second to my default daily effort of “trying to heal.”
The other day I had one of those duh! moments, when the obvious jumps up and waves madly before yelling its message. I was running through the mental litany of everything I’m tired of, and this dialogue ensued:
I am tired of “working.” Especially working on healing.
The next thought was:
Why don’t I just BE?
This concept left me with my mouth open, marveling at its deceptive simplicity. I don’t need to work at spiritual / wellness stuff? I don’t need to second-guess routines, remedies, or protocols, or continue my endless search for the next cure?
I have all kinds of requirements that must be met before I can experience joy. At the top of the list: I must feel significantly at ease in my body. Discomfort is such an importunate and undesirable guest; when it persists without surcease, it’s hard to grandly declaim my happiness. That’s telling a whopper of a lie to myself, which I try to avoid.
I had another duh! moment shortly after. Realizing how unhealthily focused I’ve become on getting healed—a focus that only reinforces “I’m not healed”— allowed the question to pop up: what should I focus on?
A surprising answer, given it’s not often top of (my) mind: Ascension.
An unfamiliar ballad starts playing on the radio, insinuating itself past my mental chatter. I don’t recognize that. What is it? Compelled into motion by the mournful yet powerful music, I waft across the room, two-stepping in time with the Celtic-flavored tune.
Maybe I can’t exactly dance, but I can move. I plant both feet and stretch arms upward and outward, noticing how good it feels to bend my elbows. Noticing that I don’t need a choreographer in order to offer homage to this tune. I don’t need a physical therapist to tell me how to move most comfortably.
As I do when I stand in the sun for the tai chi Flowing Motion, I click in to where I am in the here and now, creating movement and a quiet bubble of contentment from the ingredients I have at hand.
That brief breath of dwelling in the present, gazing about as I swayed to the poignant melody, seeing the familiar furniture and decorative objects as if I’d never noticed them before, tasted like freedom.
Just for fun, I’m going to label that briefest of experiences “Ascension.” If I call it Ascension, it will remind me to enter into such experiences whenever it occurs to me. It will remind me to pray that I notice such opportunities many times a day. And it will remind me that despite how I feel much of the time, I am in this process of arising.
Maybe we needn’t keep trying so hard to heal, if we’re rising as rapidly in vibration as many claim. Letting all that “work” simply drift away has a strong appeal. Being within Ascension surely includes my body and self automatically recalibrating into the highest wellbeing achievable on what this planet will become.
The melody from the mysterious ballad stays with me as I move toward the next chore. I know that this equanimity is transient, that duality still rules, and doubtless I will experience the flipside soon. That needn’t spoil my present enjoyment of this small gem of a moment.
I nod to an imaginary audience, pretend that my slow walk across the kitchen is a grand jeté, and that roses await the conclusion of my magnificent performance.
The ballad was “My Luve is Like a Red, Red Rose,” music set to Robert Burns’s poem. https://tinyurl.com/437crwtc
Crystals for Ascension, according to the authors of The Book of Stones: Barite; Brookite; Calcite, Stellar Beam; Calcite, Merkabite; Heliodore; Herkimer Quartz “Diamond.” The Ascension stone: Natrolite.