Yes, winter is a relative thing. And a matter of perspective. The moo.com website is predicting major shipping delays as the northeast braces for another snow storm. And, again, it’s been grey and wet and bone chillingly cold in Atlanta.
The head cold, which has stalked Bill relentlessly since Thanksgiving, has now become my case of bronchitis. This is not unfamiliar territory! A couple of things are different this time.
First, there’s the voice of Spring Forest Qigong wizard, Chunyi Lin whispering in my ear. “Bronchitis? Good! Good! It tells you more about what you need!”
Oddly, this could actually be possible. And the first answer seems to be, meditate more! This, however, feels counterintuitive, given the unusually large number of things that must get done in the next two weeks. On the off chance, though, that meditating might be more conducive to healing than worrying would be, I’m going for an extra hour a day.
Pickle juice is the next thing. Really! I’m learning cultured veggies. (Watch here for recipes!) What’s in the fridge now are cultured red onions. Reportedly excellent, in terms of strengthening the immune system. About a tablespoon of juice, straight up, several times a day. It’s actually delicious, which is good because I’m kind of a wimp and the cough syrup is pushing my limits!
I’m making progress. So much so that I slept! In fact, my bronchitis and I slept in! I’d spent several long nights coughing and was pretty tired. And past glad for the flannel sheets and quilts heaped on the bed. I did not dream of the grace that awaited me.
As I slept on, the sun did what it was created to do. It climbed in the sky beyond my window, imperceptibly, persistently. Then, all in a moment, it found a gap in the trees and burst in splendor through the glass behind me.
My first thought was that I must have died. It felt so good and warm and clean. My second thought was that I wanted to live forever, in just that moment, like a lizard basking on a log. My next thought was gratitude for the light than cannot be overcome by the darkness of our world.
Perhaps our ills, our pains and challenges, do indeed tell us more of what we need!