July brought a turnaround from my early March lupus-crash, to which I credit Rx shifts, natural medicine, aggressive acupuncture, rest. Now, as I measure plans and activities against new limitations, my life is changed; but my gratitude is great for the reprieve.
And some things I don’t want to forget, like the white space of silence. In the midst of the crash, down time was imperative, not a choice—in fact, down time was the only kind of time. But then I started feeling incrementally better. As in my old life, I started using up my energy doing until I was nearing exhaustion. Only then did I resume down-timing. The difference between now and my former life is that I do heed the foreshadowing. Even before I reach exhaustion, I stop. I don’t ignore it or continue pushing through despite depletion.
But while this is progress, it isn’t enough. I want to choose down time even when I’m not tired; I want more silence, the negative space that makes everything around it sing.
The other day I was reminded of why this is so important…. {Read remainder of this article on Patheos HERE.}
I love this reflection so much. I long to be operating at full capacity, able to do All The Things, but keep being pulled back into forced slow downs. I feel frustration about this on a regular basis, as well as fear, but am also finding more capacity to soften into slowness. Whenever I do it's amazing what nudges and inspirations arise--and where that leads. This year especially I'm noticing how the more I embrace the slowing the more Spirit-led my life becomes.
I so appreciate how beautifully you describe your journey with doing, not doing, and the way illness changes your relationship with both. I especially love this:
"As I regain more physical ability and more energy, I’m tempted again to define myself by what I do, create, accomplish. In the worst of my crash, as I lay in bed taking in dancing shadows, I had to find ways to understand myself and my life that were not about doing but being. Being whole in a body that felt broken. At the time, I didn’t know if that brokenness would be temporary or my new normal. In the midst of the crash, certain things became more clear...."
We are so more than the body.
For me, the journey of illness and healing continues to reveal how I'm both MORE this body than I thought AND also LESS a body than I think. Both ways, it's humbling.
I don't have a chronic illness that requires forced down time, but you reminded me that we all need to consciously schedule white space (I like that you called it negative space as well) to balance the busy-ness of our lives. Without the quieter, contemplative moments it's easy to miss a lot of important things. We live in a society that encourages multitasking, but multitasking doesn't allow us time to savor individual moments. How nice that your white space enabled you to be the connection that got the help that your friend needed.