sleep, interrupted

i’ve been feeling ill the last three days. fever, chills, diarrhea. also, on my moon…this doesn’t help things. or maybe it does. double cleansing. triple cleansing if you count the diarrhea. (note: i do.)

what is illness?

surely, it is more than a pathogen invading, setting up house. homeostasis? i think it’s even more than the body trying to regain her optimal status quo. there’s also context to consider, right? i’m learning, there is always context to consider.

the last time i had a fever and felt ill, it was before our pilgrimage to Mt. Banahaw. had fitful sleep, fever, chills. and one night, i had the same dream over and over again. and i tossed and turned all night.

i remember feeling worried that i would not be well enough to go. i had missed this trip last year because i was having surgery to repair my Achilles tendon. (another sort of pilgrimage, for sure.) i so wanted to go and simultaneously decided that if Spirit decides this is my time to go, i’d be well enough to go.

my fever broke the night before we left. and it broke my heart wider and wider open. i was so scared. the analytical nurse in me thought, “what is this? what is happening to me?” as i logically ran down the pathophysiology of every major cardiopulmonary disorder that i could think of, including major signs and symptoms, risk factors, treatments, etc.

another part of me, the panicking part, was screaming, hysterical. “SCREAM! DO SOMETHING!!! YOU CAN’T JUST LIE THERE!! WE ARE GOING TO DIE!!! GET HELP! GO TO THE HOSPITAL!!! WE ARE GOING TO DIE!!!”

another part of me, the larger Me, was like, “stay present, dearest. wowee, this hurts, doesn’t it? there’s a reason for this pain. i’m here. i won’t leave you. i feel it, too. you are not alone.”

so, i stayed present. and i cried. masakit eh. it was like invisible hands were trying to widen a space in my chest, clear it out of what was no longer needed. fingers were probing and poking an already sore heart, touching the wounds that are already there, even making new ones. i didn’t get the sense that this was done out of malice. it was more purposeful. it was for me, for my healing. for my growth. i realize now, some months later, these hands were removing colonial vines that had wrapped my heart and choked my heartspace. thank you, my celestial Gardener.

i don’t know how long this lasted. maybe 10 minutes. but, who knows? i can’t even remember if Ged was with me that night. as fast as it came, it stopped. she left. she took my fever with her. i wiped my tears, exhaled. with trembling hands, i sipped some water. gave silent thanks to the Gardener. tears of relief wet the corners of my eyes. i let them be. i had survived it. and i felt a coolness now. and a stillness. and i slept.

the following morning, i packed for Mt. Banahaw, and feeling dizzy, weak, and unsure, i made my first pilgrimage there.