You can read about it, you can talk about it, you can even blog about it, but at some point, you have to do something about it.
What am I talking about?
Everything. In this case, my health.
Now, based on my normal output (for life in general, not just blogging) I know I've been sliding a bit (I had more hopes of conquering the world by now - at least the inner one), but as luck would have it, I ended up with this bacterial/viral thingy that's turned my six month experiment into more like a Sick Month Experiment.
I'd like to document every single method I've used - both traditional and natural (including psychological/spiritual) to heal myself but frankly, I don't know how to turn my keyboard into chinese letters so I can list the items from the Chinese store.
And frankly, I don't know how to explain this whole Deepak Chopra belief system(among many others) without listening to the sounds of my fingers typing on the keyboard while a voice inside my head screams: Stop! Get real sister!.
But what the hell, here goes anyways...
There is no pathogen that exists in this universe, which attaches itself to us, that does not have our permission to do so in the first place.
Say what???
In other words, I got sick, because on some level I either manifested it (ie; attracted it), or as Deepak would say, I agreed to it.
After all, we're in a co-creative universe.
I know what you're thinking because I'm thinking the same thing.
But it's interesting food for thought nevertheless.
The thing is... if you believe something to be true in one area of life, then in order for it to be a rule, it has to hold true in other areas as well.
Science dictates that a Law is not law if there exists an exception to the rule.
So... logic tells me, if I believe I am responsible for everything - which is what I've been propounding for these last few months (re: the quality of my life, the nature of my experiences, yadda yadda yadda) then that also hold true regarding my health.
Holy shit.
I'm at fault for being sick.
So that leaves me in a pickle. Because either:
1) I agreed to be sick for whatever reason and that's just stupid - nobody wants to be sick. (Well, some people do because they like the attention but I won't get into that right now. The extreme version of these people are called hypochondriacs).
2) Something I did, said, thought, or acted, resulted in my manifesting this particular illness. (Definitely a possibility)
or...
3) I've agreed (as part of this collectively manifested matrix we live in), that once in a while, as human beings we are going to get sick. Especially if we live in this godforsaken cold weather.
In other words, I get sick because I'm bound to - at least once in a while. It's a collectively accepted truth.
And what if I didn't accept it as truth? I mean REALLY rejected it. With every ounce of my being? With a knowing that exceeded the faith of an Avatar?
Does that mean I'd never get sick because I wasn't part of that faulty belief system?
Yep. Sheesh. That's a tough red pill to swallow. (Matrix reference).
In any case, the point is... even medicine has begun to accept that there is a huge link between thinking and illness.
People who laugh more, live longer, and are sick less often. As do most people who generally have a positive outlook on life.
Chinese medicine believe that different parts of our bodies are the seat of various emotions and when those emotions are out of balance, our internal organs get 'sick'.
(For a western take - paralleling the Chinese) - check out Louise Hay, Heal Your Body. Once you go through your list of ailments and their corresponding emotions, if you have the wherewithall to connect them to a particular time or incident in your life, you may find it to be eerily accurate.
For example, the Chinese say that your lungs holds grief, while your liver is the seat of anger.
Therefore, whatever emotions you do not work through or process properly get buried in their corresponding organs and become manifested in your body as illness.
Apparently, I process everything through my body.
And this area in particular is lung-related. Ie; grief.
But for what?
Working with this concept with an open mind is vitally important to me as I am a firm believer that as whole human beings we can't diagnose an ailment in isolation. Even if I did contract bronchitis (which I did), there's no reason why it should have lasted this long.
And it's popped up twice in the last two months. The second time, far worse.
So I've been looking at contributing factors that go beyond the physical...
Obviously something deeper is getting in the way.
The only thing I can even remotely come up with, is that in the last couple of months, I've actually fully accepted the fact that I am likely to remain single forever.
And suddenly, I'm fine with it. At least consciously.
I'm even finding it a preferrable alternative.
And it's not that I don't date. I do. I love men. (sigh).
I just have this belief - false though it may be - that there is no one out there right for me. And quite right doesn't cut it.
Could that be the cause of my grief?
I was really sad after my last dating spell back in October. Brief though it was, I swung from hopeful to disillusioned in one fell swoop and as a result, it somehow had a damaging impact on me, far more than I care to admit.
But it was not an isolated incident. It was simply the straw that broke the camel's back.
Oh, I'll get back on the camel. I always do. But suddenly, it's with a more flippant attitude - que sera sera n' all that jazz.
Perhaps that is the price my generation (who is trying to get it right a second or even third time around) is willing to pay - we won't settle.
But then again, anything really worth having is also worth waiting for.
Or is it grief because I've given up and I don't want to try anymore?
If I never engage, I can't get hurt or disillusioned, or disappointed.
One thing's for sure. I'm overanalyzing.
Time for more aspirin...
