Sense of Disease

by Traci Hodes. Traci will be facilitating an upcoming course titled “ Cultivating Trust and Faith in Ourselves Through Inquiry”.

I feel a sense of dis-ease… I’ve felt it for several weeks now… I can feel the desire to push it away, to know what it is, to explain it. 

This is my ego wanting a “hit”, wanting an easy fix, an easy out. 

The practice of contemplation tells me to be patient, to feel into my body, and to trust that I don’t have to have answers right in this minute. 

My teacher tells me that it can take years for some wounds to unwind and I find myself thinking: is that really true?  Do I have to be patient for that long? What if I can’t take it? It’s sort of like a scab on a healing wound: do I let it be and let it heal, or do I pick at it?  I know what is right and I know what is tempting. 

And, then, I breathe. 

And, then, I feel. 

And, then, I know that I can pause and allow myself to get to know this dis-ease. 

The inquiry is simply stated: “What is this dis-ease I feel?” Sometimes I ask it before I go to bed, before I sit for practice, and sometimes while I’m walking the dogs… I haven’t found the answer yet. Usually that’s okay and sometimes it’s not.  

If I have to explain what this dis-ease feels like. It’s still such a new awareness to me and, at times, it feels as if we’re two people sizing each other up, trying to figure out if the other means well or not, trying to figure out whether to trust the other or not. Sometimes, it feels like a cavern in my stomach. Other times, it feels like constriction in my chest with a quickening of my heart. Just moments ago, it felt like a question in my mind, and for a moment I thought I had it all figured out! I could feel the excitement of the thrill of the chase! Then I remembered, “Oh yes, that was just the Ego, wanting its easy fix. Settle down, you don’t have to know the answer to this one yet”. 

Sometimes this dis-ease feels like a puzzle piece with both of us trying to find out where it belongs. I feel as though it’s looking for its home and it’s looking to be witnessed. A part of me deeply wants to give it that, the part of me that knows patience will pay off. The part that knows trusting the process and allowing dis-ease the room it needs for trust to develop. That is the part of me that knows that I’m okay and there’s nothing wrong. 

I have to say, it’s quite a pain, though. Dis-ease doesn’t care that I’d like a full night’s sleep and that, when it wakes me at 3am, it’s harder for me to feel awake throughout my day. In that way, it feels very young, like a child who wants what she wants when she wants it. I have to laugh because I know I could fight it, but have you ever tried fighting yourself to get back to sleep? Personally, I always lose. It’s easier to simply be with dis-ease in the middle of the night, in the darkness under my comfy weighted blanket, and allow it to be known, allow it room to breathe, to be witnessed. When I do this the strangest thing seems to happen: dis-ease settles back, like she’s been seen, and she can rest. And, thankfully, I can too. 

Me and Dis-ease are doing this dance together, and some days I wonder how long it will be until the dance finishes or what it will look like when we get to the end of the song. That still, quiet place within me senses if I allow Dis-ease to take its time, it will be worth it.   

Deep knowing is on the other side.   

Healing is on the other side.  

Understanding is on the other side. 

This is the practice.   

I keep looking for the ribbon I can tie around the package making it look nice and neat and pretty, although I have to admit that I’ve never been very good at that. This is trust, this is enough, this is the reality of the moment.  

I am getting to know Dis-ease. She is slow to warm up, like my oldest daughter was when she was a baby. In still, quiet moments, I know this is the path, and I will continue to make my way, unfinished, still walking, still waiting, still listening.