Anyone who has been to my house probably can tell that I love houseplants. I have had some of my plants since I lived in Boston, thirteen years ago.
My mother hated plants, or complained about them at least, and all that they needed (water, soil, sunshine...how high maintenance!). She particularly disliked the peace lily. It is always droopy, she would say. I couldn't disagree more. If it were not for my peace lilies and their communicating abilities, I might forget to water my plants altogether.
I've never believed in blaming the messenger and, while my mother was quick to toss out the messenger along with the message, I've found this particular messenger to be very helpful and has helped me keep my plants for as long as I have. And, further, I have thoroughly enjoyed having my plants for all of these years. I would have missed out on something had I thrown them out the minute they needed water.
This week I have spent a lot of time being angry with my epilepsy. "If it wasn't for my epilepsy..." fill in the blank. It is getting in the way of life. It stands between me and my fully actualized life. These have been my thoughts this week, since my most recent seizure last Saturday morning.
But here is the thing: I have had this feeling for a while now, if I was to really be honest with myself, that I have not been doing what I need to do. Nothing monumental here, no huge lifestyle changes, just feeling removed from that voice of wisdom that we all have (and probably all could stand to listen to more). Like when I look at my two year old who is melting down and I can realize that engaging with her on her tantrum topic is not the point, she is overwrought and tired. What she needs is a hug and rest. When offered those things, she usually forgets her tantrum anyway.
There are times when I am tired and overwrought, but I don't allow myself outs like I do my toddler. I have trouble rising out of the details and seeing the bigger picture in the moment.
For me there is a delicate balance between connecting with that wise self, getting guidance and visionary inspiration and the doing of life. The doing of life comes at you quickly, and ever more quickly once you add children to the mix. It takes a lot of energy to do the doing of life too. Energy and time. If I'm not careful, whole days, weeks or phases are eaten up with endless doing. Tasks and details and to do lists done, but am I still operating out of the wise place that I hope those tasks and to do lists originated from? Sometimes I don't know.
You could have an incredibly enlightened, wise and thoughtful origin, but in the time it takes to operationalize this and make it happen...turn it into a meaningful school project for your child...turn it into a new ritual at home...you have lost connection to the peaceful wisdom and gotten attached instead to another thing on your to do list.
I don't expect enlightenment at every turn as a parent, a graduate student, a spouse or a friend. But I do want peace. I have to provide fertile ground for the enlightenment and wisdom to grow. And for me, that fertile ground is peace. Lots and lots of peace.
Perhaps due to my brain chemistry, perhaps due to my dysfunctional childhood, perhaps due to just being a mom of two little kids, I crave quiet calm moments. I am realizing I need to cultivate more of these in my days and in my weeks, even if it means limiting activities and changing the way I currently do things.
I don't know if my epilepsy was telling me that I have too much on my plate, or that my three glasses of wine the night before was too much, but it seems to be telling me something...and that something it seems to be telling me is something that when I am truly honest with myself is something that I know I need.
I need to unplug. I need to find peace. I need to be present. I need to get rest. I need to let go of my to do list, even if it means letting people down from time to time. There are worse things, despite what my gut tells me.
So I wouldn't necessarily say that I am thankful for my epilepsy at this moment, but I am trying to hear what it is telling me, maybe if I listen I could be even better for it.
