“Try to stay at the eye of the storm” a wise friend once commented, when we were discussing those times when everyone and everything around you starts typhooning.
I’ve become rather good at that now. In fact, for the week or so leading up to this weekend, I was very aware that every friend who contacted me had a problem. People they’d trusted had let them down, finances had suddenly become a nightmare, relationships had fractured, illness or physical pain was afflicting them.
I listened to each of them with compassion and care. I echoed back their statements, to allow them to find answers or ways forward where I could, and I tried very hard not to offer solutions or to drift into monologues about similar situations of my own, because I’ve learned that neither of those is particularly helpful.
You see, the Janonlife belief system is that each of us creates our own reality – and that includes any difficulties and problems – in order to gain the most experience possible from this short and tricky lifetime we are currently playing out, and to bring as much light as possible from our expanded, multi-dimensional selves into the existence of the Humans we are Being at this particular point.
I take full responsibility for what happened next, because I actually remember the thought that triggered it.
“This eye-of-the-storm bit is all well and good,” I commented to what I call my God-Self (also variously known as Soul, Spirit, Higher-Self, Essence, God, Goddess or what you will). “Trouble is, this life has been going along smoothly for such a long time now. I think I could do with a slight tweak, just to throw me a wake-up call.”
Oh be careful what you ask for, my friends! By the end of the week, I was laid out by a physical meltdown. All energy evaporated. My skin became hypersensitive – to the point that even turning over in bed was agony. My digestive system seemed to have temporarily been replaced by a particularly bad-tempered nest of vipers. Strange swooshing noises swirled between my ears at every attempt to move about and waves dizziness overtook me even when I stayed still.
“OK. Right. Fine. Got it,” I told the G-S. “I take to my bed, drink water, stop eating and wait to see what comes in terms of experience from this lot. Got it. And could you ease up slightly on the stomach cramps please?”
So that’s how I spent the next few days. I’ve had enough similar episodes in my life to recognise that – just as the New Agey lot say – physical illness is, quite literally, dis-ease. This time, I’d even noticed beforehand that something inside me needed a hiatus – a cessation of everyday activities to give it the time and space to shift.
I didn’t force it. I felt way too ill to do so, in any case. I knew that something would come of this. It always does.
On Sunday night, the something arrived. Just as the physical symptoms were beginning to subside and I was ready for a relatively normal night’s sleep, huge tidal waves of anger swept through me.
Shaken but not altogether surprised, I grabbed a notepad and allowed a storm of fury against situations, individuals and events – recent and far in the past – to flow through the pen. Whoa! Can’t remember the last time I did anger. I was amazed how much I’d been bottling up.
Did I feel any better for expressing it?
I now had a list of people and events that I felt totally, utterly, mind-numbingly furious about. I sat back exhausted for a few minutes and asked the G-S to remind me what came next.
“Er, mirrors?” the G-S hinted.
Oh yes. Of course – I knew that. Each of them was mirroring something inside my self – showing me aspects of my Being Human self that I was ready to change.
I returned to the list and worked my way through each situation. None of these people was intentionally angering me. Each was mirroring behaviour or attitudes I wanted to alter in myself. Some took a bit of ferreting out. One remained stubbornly insoluble, so I decide to sleep on it.
On Monday morning I woke feeling extremely weak, but physically fine. All trace of anger and spite had evaporated along with the mysterious illness. The elusive answer arrived as I relaxed in a fragrant bubbly bath and I knew the dis-ease had done its work well.