Last week I wrote out some of my weekly
goals wishes. I try to do this after I’ve already done some morning pages so that I am in the flow of writing and being in my intuition. The wishes tend to flow more easily. It’s a practice I blatantly stole from Havi, and here is an example of my favorite template, although she’s changed it many times over the years.
Out of nowhere, my pen wrote:
I’m not kidding. That’s what I wrote.
Actually, here’s the rest:
I was glad to catch myself in the middle of wishing for a silver bullet.
This is how I become desperate: thinking there’s some magic pill or solution that’s going to save me and make all my wishes come true; I just have to find the right one.
My teacher used to call this INSERT NAME HERE, where humans chase re-entry into Eden after being kicked out for their humanity. We think if we’re perfect, or if we find the perfect diet, have the perfect body, find the perfect relationship, we’ll be allowed to come home to a life of ease and paradise.
I want to blame all the health problems I’ve had over the years, all the dental trouble, the lack of energy, the extra weight, on something else, something definite and fixable.
Something I can cut out and kill.
Something that is Not Me.
And that’s the nice thing about having desires and naming them: I can come into relationship with them and figure out what I’m really craving, what I’m truly reaching for.
In this case, I do want some ease. I’m feeling like I need to fight against my true nature a lot.
I want to bless myself and my choices. After all, my actions are always authentic, even if I’m taking no action. It’s ok to not give a shit.
I’m in the midst of creating the vocations I want, and I’m needing to create a paradigm that’s not comprised of busyness = importance. It’s a hard one to untangle.
I also do think I have parasites, and I’m really glad to have a doctor that believes me. I think there are a lot of physical symptoms that will be helped by getting treatment for this issue and healing my gut, and it’s also important that I not give all my power and agency to this parasite treatment. My body is still (thankfully) mine to care for and heal.
The point is, I don’t need to get overly attached to this diagnosis. I don’t need it to mean more than it does or be a symbolic substitute for stuff I’d rather not own.
My work is still mine. My energy levels are still mine. The foods I choose are still my choices. I don’t need to give my doctor power over all that, and I must not come out of relationship with myself.